Chapter 1
The Boy In The Woods and the Boy In the Cupboard
The Boy crawled carefully out of the hut in which his family lived in. The thatched building was fairly easy to sneak out of, judging by the small hole in the wall out back. The Boy stood up slowly, and after checking the coast was clear, dusted himself off quickly, and ran off into the Great Forest.
The Great Forest was just that, a great forest. It stretched for miles around the countryside, until the whole island was covered in it, save for a few select ruins and beaches. Luckily, the Village was close to one of these ruins, and therefore were at a relatively thing part of the Forest. The Boy had planned to visit the ruins with his friends, and explore the area. Of course, there was the matter of curiosity as well; there were a myriad of rumors surrounding the place, like ghosts and other tales of horror and magic.
The Boy had since discovered that none of the village children would risk going outside of the village aside of himself. So it was before, so it would be today.
The Boy stood up. He walked over and grabbed his walking stick, and proceeded to make his way towards the ruins.
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Sir Nicholas De Mimsy Porpington was not having a good day. He hadn't had one in fact, since his Five Hundred and Fourth Deathday in 1996, when he was accepted into the Headless Hunt after centuries of applications. But now, a whole millennia later, he was still miserable; partly because there were no more ghosts to converse with in the castle anymore, and partly because of the total lack of magic in the air. True, the castle had more magic in the air than the surrounding region, but it was next to nothing when compared to the years Hogwarts was an operational school.
Sir Nicholas had hoped for someone to come to the ruins, but when they did, the petty humans would generally escape in horror at the apparition. Oh, he hoped for the day he would be able to finally have a civil conversation with another being, because frankly, talking to trees was not an indication of sanity, even in ghosts.
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The Boy had made it to his destination. The ruins stood before him, towering above the canopy,dwarfing even the highest trees. As he entered the crumbling structure, he couldn't help but wonder if the rumors of ghosts were true or not.
A spectral form drifted out of the wall behind him.
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Sir Nicholas was ecstatic. Finally, for the first time in over two-hundred years, a human had come. Someone he could talk to, and maybe even befriend. Of course, the chances of that happening were close to nothing, as the cowardly mortals all ran away at his, 'Nearly Headless' act. He thought it was quite amusing, actually.
But back to the present. Sir Nicholas glided through the many walls in the ancient castle, towards the Boy. Going through floors and cupboards, walls and doors, he came to a stop in the former Great Hall of Hogwarts. Taking a glance, cautious as not to be found, he could see the Boy by the Headmaster's seat. Apparently, the child was admiring the now lush forest inside of the once-magnificent hall.
Deciding he would look at the youth at a later time, Sir Nicholas glided past the Boy's body, and disappeared into the other wall, leaving a slightly frightened and bugged out Boy to gather his wits about himself.
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The Boy started towards one of the passageways going up, towards the higher canopies. Cautiously walking over the mossy stones and bits of rubble strewn across the floors, he arrived at the spiral staircase, and looked up. He could see the various trees and branches covering the open ceiling, and soft, golden rays of sunlight entered the building from here.
Tearing his eyes away from the mystifying vision, the Boy started his way up the staircase, warily eyeing the roots and moss sprouting on the stairs. He trudged up the ancient stairs, and could not help but notice the numerous empty and decaying frames hanging on the walls. They felt empty, like they had once been filled with life, or something like it, but were now drained completely.
The Boy made his way to the top floor, and walking down the dark, mossy corridor, came to the roots of a great tree. More than thirty hand-lengths wide, and at least five times as high, the tree gave off a sense of majesty and prestige. As he looked at the tree, a small opening opened up at the base of it, and a light could be seen flowing out of it. Curious, the Boy bent down to look at it, and crawled in.
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Albus Dumbledore had always thought that death was the next greatest adventure. But now, since he was safely dead, and had been so for many years, he could say that death wasn't thrilling or exciting at all. All it was was dreadfully boring; everything was white, people forgot about you after a while, and there weren't any lemon drops to suck on either.
But, Harry had come in visiting about two hundred years ago, and given him a task back in the mortal plane. To safeguard a certain Book and to make sure it fell into the right hands. Right now, Albus could feel the potential rolling off of this boy in waves. And in this moment, he knew that he would pass The Book to this youngster so reminiscent of the Immortal.
Albus watched as the Boy walked tentatively towards the shaft of light in the center of the room, gazing at the book. Mesmerized, he took the book from its resting place on the desk, and opened it.
Albus chuckled lightly; the kid was in for one long, hard, and complex history lesson.
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-Enter mindless babble about Harry's home life here-
(sorry if this breaks the story up too much, but I'm much to lazy to write all of this down in a history lesson format, much less a narrative. Speaking of which, all of the things in the Book, ergo. Harry's timeline, will be told narrative style with some first person POv's mixed in.)
And so it was that the savior of the Wizarding world found himself placed at the Dursley's once more, 'for his own protection' as Dumbledore put it. Harry had spent several weeks of the first month of summer thinking, (but working at the same time) and had drawn some interesting conclusions about himself, his abilities, and magic in general.
Harry had, in fact, lost his Godfather, Sirius Black at the Department of Mysteries incident at the end of his last school year, and was in somewhat of a depression. Of course, this only lasted for several days, as he was never extremely close to the man. The loss of the only father figure in his life might have had something to do with his grieving, and the majority of the time was spent crying over the loss of a hope of a warm welcome and safe haven. No, the death of the man served a much higher purpose.
Sirius Black, to Harry Potter, was a lesson. A lesson to never let his brazen side through, to let his naturally intelligent and cunning attitude control him. After all, the only reason he wasn't sorted into Slytherin at the Sorting Ceremony was for the conscious wish to get into Gryffindor. Therefore, his mindset must have been a distinctly Slytherin one before his Hogwarts years. Also, considering his mother's bookish intelligence and his father's brilliance for adaptation (how else would the Marauders survived the fruititions of their own pranks), Harry would have had to have been an extraordinarily adept student of magic. But he was not. He was just your average Joe power and potential wise, but surely his heritage spoke for higher traits than his own?
He was a Gryffindor, and the answer lies therein. Gryffindors were brash, prejudiced, and foolishly noble. That was everything his nature was not, yet he was shaped to become by one man, and one man only. Albus Dumbledore. The man obviously meant the best for the people and the 'greater good', but his manipulations had in reality, forced people to bend to his will, and had caused him to walk over them.
But not Harry. Not anymore.
Tomorrow, everything would change.
Tomorrow, Harry would turn sixteen.
Tomorrow, Harry Potter would disappear.
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The Boy was honestly intrigued. Who exactly was this 'Harry' person? What was there to learn about magic? The wars, battles, enemies... a myriad of questions danced in his mind.
Excited, he took the book from its shaft of life, and tucked it into his shirt. He made his way out of the canopies, and walked down from the corridor, down the countless staircases, and stepped into the bright sunlight. The Boy squinted at the light for a few moments, then his eyes adjusted successfully.
He appeared outside, and scampered off into the forest. The Boy ran back to his village quickly, and continued to read the next chapter/lesson in The Book.