It's here, it's ready, and I really am starting to wonder why it took me so long to get this chapter out. Like, how long has it been now? 4 months?
In all honesty, though, I have gone through so many rewrites of this story that I could probably write an entire book's worth of content just from the rewritten first chapters alone.
Anyway, without any further delay, let's begin this story, shall we?
Talking: "Hi!"
Spells: "Hi!"
Other Languages: "Hi!"
Singing: ("Hi!")
"Look, there's no denying that what you've accomplished, at least on a technical level, is remarkable. It is a cutting-edge piece of hardware. It's just... certain design aspects here seem odd at best... We were hoping you would be able to shed some light on them?"
A dark-haired man shuffled in his seat, looking up at his interrogator, puzzled. "Is there anything to explain? It can sing and dance. It has the ability to tell jokes and entertain your audience. It even includes a built-in security system to keep your employees and guests safe."
"To be fair, Mr. Afton... these were not the design choices we were debating."
Afton gazed at the interrogator, his orange eyes flashing with venom, although he said nothing.
"Let's start with the obvious... the machine's capacity to replicate voices. The capability to hack into electronic devices in close proximity. The ability to analyze a target for weak points." The interviewer glanced up from his sheet of paper, his inquisitive gaze fixed on the silent man in front of him. "If I didn't know any better, William, I'd think this was some kind of weapon... not an animatronic designed to entertain children."
Afton exhaled softly, a cruel smirk crossing his face.
"Tell me Henry… do you know why I called this… machine, what I did?" The interviewer, Henry, raised a questioning eyebrow at this. " Life is a game, played by the wicked… Out of the control of the pawns. Love is a game played by the fool… Brought around by chaos and pain. In life, we all get played by the wicked… That does not mean I will as well. That's what he is for— to create a new game… one, where I'm in control. L.O.L.B.I.T will be my greatest invention yet…"
Harry Potter: Laughing Matters…
A large, grey family vehicle was rushing down a freeway at high speeds on a blustery, gloomy day in Surrey, England, obviously in a haste to reach its destination. The car in question, owned by Mr. Dursley, swerved erratically across the road, cutting through lanes. The owner sat in the driver's seat; his face flushed with frustration. Simply put, the man was a ticking time bomb. It came as little surprise given his consistently high blood pressure and obviously overweight stature.
Despite the terrible weather, which was a common occurrence in England, the Dursleys were on their way to a newly opened and unusually popular restaurant in town. With its sophisticated animatronics and unexpectedly high-quality food, the place had quickly established a reputation despite being just a few weeks old. The main drawback, however, was its primary concentration on children's entertainment... or so Vernon thought.
Suddenly, an obnoxious, persistent cry began to emanate from the back seat of their car. Dudley, Vernon Dursley's fat-limbed, pudgy whale of a son, began crying loudly.
"Mummy! Why is it taking so long to get there? We're going to be late for my party!" A small whale complained, flailing its arms while having a temper tantrum.
Dudley, who was only six years old, was the size of a miniature walrus. He had short dark hair, small, pig-like blue eyes, and a whale-like face... just like his father.
Petunia Dursley whirled around in the front seat, her horse-like beady eyes beaming at her child. Her hair had red roots and was bleached blonde.
"Don't worry, Dudders; we'll be there soon." Petunia informed her son, trying to calm him down.
Surprisingly, when the car drove over a speed bump on the way to the restaurant, a gasp of pain could be heard from the trunk. Vernon scowled; his mood had deteriorated since the beginning of the drive. He jammed his foot on the brakes, causing another sharp intake of breath.
"If I hear another noise from you, I'll make sure you vanish and are never seen again! Do you understand!?" Dursley remarked, only to be answered by a small yelp from the boot. Vernon then placed his foot down again and sped off down the road. They drove for a few more minutes before coming to a halt at an old-looking carpark just outside of a massive, red and white structure that seemed new but was in disrepair. The paint was flaking off the walls, and the old, outdated lights would occasionally flicker on and off. In other words, it appeared to be a typical English pub. But it was the flashing sign with the words "Circus Baby's Pizza World!" lit up in bright pink and yellow neon lights that drew their attention the most.
Dudley and Petunia exited the vehicle and headed towards the building, while Vernon walked around to the back of the car and opened the boot to show a small, sickly child. Vernon grasped the boy's arm in his enormous, hefty hands and dragged him out of the boot, slamming it shut behind him.
The boy in question, none other than a young Harry James Potter, was a short child, especially for his age of 5. He had uncontrollable raven black hair that seemed to alter shape depending on how he felt at the moment. His eyes were a brilliant emerald green that shinned with such intensity that they might glow in the dark. His clothes, if you could call them that, were many sizes too big for him, looking more like a blanket than a pair of child's clothing. They didn't appear very decent either, being shredded and ruined in several places, as if they were composed of rags and scrap fabric.
Harry, who was remaining motionless in order not to irritate his overweight uncle, leapt back in panic as Vernon turned to him, not particularly thrilled.
"Now you listen here, boy, and listen good!" Vernon stated with a sneer on his face. "We had to bring you with us because we couldn't find a babysitter... which is why you'll stay away from us, out of sight, until we return. Is that clear?" The frail boy nodded in fear as the overgrown man snarled.
Harry breathed a sigh of relief as Vernon marched away, his enormous arms swinging by his sides. The young child wasn't sure what he had done to make his family... no, relatives, despise him so much. Maybe it was because he was dropped on their doorstep at the age of one? Perhaps it was because of the bizarre things that always seemed to happen around him? He didn't like to think about it, having decided years ago that they would never love him.
Harry started his trek towards the building with another quick huff, hoping to find some type of amusement to keep himself entertained for the next few hours.
He had no idea a mysterious figure was lurking in the shadows, fiery eyes flashing with a touch of menace. The figure, a tall dark-haired man, slowly climbed from his vehicle, a purple and black 1967 Ford Mustang Fastback, and trailed the boy around the side of the building... all the time, a cruel, shark-like sneer lining his face.
As far as Harry was concerned, the restaurant's interior looked amazing! Blue and white streamers, balloons, and birthday banners lined the walls of the main room. The tables were covered in cheering children, most of whom were gathered around the birthday boy, Dudley. A colourful wooden stage sat at the front of the room, with several clown-themed animatronic robots dancing in front of the children.
The whole thing looked amazing to Harry. Perhaps one of the greatest birthday celebrations ever... too bad he wasn't invited. He was left to stand outside and observe from a distance instead.
Streams of tears rolled down the messy-haired boy's face in a slow dance of sorrow. Harry gazed longingly at the celebration in front of him, hoping that one day, it would be for him... even though he knew that day would never arrive. After all, who would go to such lengths for a freak like him?
Harry was so preoccupied with his self-loathing that he didn't notice the sound of heavy footsteps approaching him from behind. He didn't notice the faint glitter of light striking the surface of a metallic object slowly elevated over his head. He didn't notice the vicious grin of a psychopath creeping up on his newest prey.
He did, however, become aware of a sudden hot, acute shooting pain emanating from his lower back.
Harry screamed in anguish and collapsed to the floor, blood dripping from his now punctured spine. The child's puzzled, hurt, and terror-filled look met the sadistic, anger-filled inferno-like eyes of the man before him. He stood there, blood-soaked knife in hand, a smirk on his lips... Harry was terrified.
Suddenly, the man reached down and picked up the boy in his arms, remaining silent. He started moving, striding forward like a man on a mission, effortlessly swinging open the door to the back of the restaurant. For the longest time, this would be the last anyone saw of Harry Potter.
Nobody knew the horrors that were about to be unleashed...
September 1st is a day that everyone in the British Wizarding World looked forward to. The day was significant because it marked the arrival of a slew of new first-year students at magical institutions around the world. It was no different at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
As a group of frightened first years made their way down the length of the massive Great Hall, several gazed up in awe at the magical sky above them. The masses below were bathed in a soft, relaxing light from the stars. One girl with bushy dark brown hair commented about the sky, saying it was charmed... apparently, it was written about in Hogwarts: A History.
When they eventually reached the front of the room, all eyes drawn to a mouldy-looking hat resting on a rickety wooden stool situated at the front of the hall. Many others were perplexed, shocked, and, in the instance of one red-headed boy, irritated by the sight. The child began muttering quietly... Something about "wanting to kill Fred and George."
The hat began to shift abruptly, the bottom of its cloth splitting open and producing a mouth-shaped hole. Then it started singing:
(Oh you may not think me pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
if you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folks use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!)
Many of the students clapped at the end of the song, while others sat there silently, use to the hats singing. After that, an older-looking woman walked up to the side of the wobbly stool and stood alongside it, gripping a piece of parchment in her hand.
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," Professor McGonagall said. "Abbott, Hannah!"
A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, sat down, and put on the hat, which dropped right down over her eyes. After a little delay, the hat exclaimed, "HUFFLEPUFF!"
When Hannah approached the Hufflepuff table, the table clapped and applauded.
This continued for the next half hour, with many of the students being sorted into the four houses of Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Everything was going swimmingly until one name was called... a name that caused several students to gasp in surprise.
"Potter, Harry!"
"Potter, did she say?"
"The Harry Potter?"
Many people whispered. The media had promised that Harry Potter would be attending Hogwarts this year. It was one thing to hear a rumour and quite another to witness it personally. To many people's shock, no one stepped up to the stool, causing many to glance about in bewilderment.
"Harry Potter!?" McGonagall inquired once more, receiving a slew of puzzled and concerned expressions in response. Where was Harry Potter? Concern grew in her stomach since no one stepped forward; her blue eyes scanned the room for any evidence of a boy who resembled his father. Was this some sort of joke? Harry Potter's father, James Potter, was known for these... perhaps his son was pulling one on everyone.
She re-read the list and mentally recalculated the names again before attempting to count the wave of black-robed kids who remained standing, awaiting sorting.
The Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, rose up in his seat, his own eyes flaming with alarm as the child did not step forward. He was completely unprepared for this... Had the boy's aunt and uncle failed to deliver him to the station in time? Had they incorrectly assumed that no one would come looking for him? He'd have to investigate this further; without a doubt, Harry Potter would be at Hogwarts before the end of the night.
"Keep going, Minerva; I'm sure Mr. Potter simply missed the train." He stated loudly enough for the children to hear, his lips twitching as he observed they were all calming down. It would be unreasonable for all the students to be worried on the first day of school after all.
Hearing this, McGonagall breathed a sigh of relief, concealing her concern as she went down the list of names.
"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! To all the incoming new students, welcome! It's always good to see new smiling faces. To our older students, welcome back. A few words before we eat: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" As each student was seated at their tables, Dumbledore gleefully declared the end of the sorting. He sits back down, smiling as he watches the children eat.
"Do you believe he merely missed the train, Albus?" Minerva McGonagall inquired of the elderly headmaster, causing his head to snap towards her.
"I'm certain of it, Minerva..." Albus responded. "I'd know if something had happened to the boy; trust me."
"Very well." Minerva responded, having little choice but to trust the headmaster and close friend... after all, he had never let her down before. Although Minerva couldn't shake the feeling of dread that washed over her... as if it was warning her of something horrible that was about to happen... or had already happened.
She wasn't the only one concerned about the boy... not that Severus would ever disclose this information to anyone.
Snape had always had a connection with the boy... Harry was, after all, Lily's son.
He found it weird that the boy missed the first train to school... even if he was James Potter's son, he had to have inherited some of Lily's common sense. No, something unusual was happening, and Snape was not enthusiastic about it.
Only time would tell how correct he actually was...
July 31st, 1991…
Petunia Dursley nee Evans was preparing breakfast for her perfectly average family on a perfectly ordinary morning on July 31st, 1991. The abrupt ringing of the doorbell, however, quickly interrupted her. She had an instant dislike for whoever was on the other side of the door; after all, what reasonable person would call at this time in the morning?
She was transfixed with a quick flash of horror and terror as her eyes registered the image before her. A small child, looking no older than nine, stood before her, his dark void-like eyes burning with distaste; white pupils shining with an ungodly glow. His white, orange and purple, messy hair drifted smoothly in the wind, almost as if moved by an invisible power. His pointed, demon-like grin, on the other hand, was terrifying. For all intents and purposes, the boy did not appear... human.
Petunia began to speak, shaking her head and clearing her throat. "So, boy, what do you want?" She inquired, irritation and uncertainty evident in her tone.
The boy, on the other hand, did not respond and merely chuckled. Tilting his head to the side, his fringe brushed away from his brow, exposing the faint outline of what appeared to be a lightning bolt scar.
Petunia gasped and jumped back in astonishment. This was unthinkable! The boy was thought to be dead!
"Hello, Aunt Petunia." Harry greeted, the smirk never leaving his face. "It's been a long time… мἷṩṩἔḋ мἔ?"
Finally, with the first chapter done, I can get onto the more interesting stuff. The problem I have had with this story is how it begins… and the tangent that I went off on because of the release of Security Breach before. I intend to fix both in this rewrite.
I should probably point out the inspiration from the Harry's Strings (Rewrite) at the end… I literally had no other way to end this first chapter and I thought that one ended off well. So, I decided to base my one-off on it… it's not an exact copy and I will never exactly copy someone else's work… without permission of course.
Anyway, with that all out of the way, I can finally get into the more interesting parts of the story. There will be no count downs to the chapter anymore, as I am generally running out of ideas, so I will give some indication instead for when the next chapter could release. For instance, this next chapter could come out today, tomorrow or possible towards the end of the week… if I have ideas, I tend to work on them on the same day, so I don't forget them.
That's all I have for today and I will see you in the next chapter! And of course…
Remember, Lolbit is watching… ᾋłᾧᾄẏṩ.