Chapter: Harry.
Harry James Potter was an odd child.
A freak in the eyes of his Aunt, Uncle and Cousin.
A delinquent in the eyes of his neighbours, peers and teachers.
A hero to the wizarding world.
An orphan.
Unexplainable things always happened around him, incidents he would be punished for.
But Harry thought it was his dreams that truly made him odd.
He dreamed of colours, bright red and honey brown crowding an emerald green. The colours always danced together in harmony when he dreamed. The three shades constantly chasing after each other, swirling with freedom and affectionate warmth. Harry could never understand why the colours always brought him joy. Why he'd wake with a deep ache of yearning in his chest and burning twinge from his scar.
Then there were the nights he dreamed and would wake with agonising screams of pure grief. Those were the worst. On those nights his uncle would beat him into silence, giving him real reason to cry. Yet, it never stopped him from doing the same thing the next time. When he was eight, he thought he saw true fear, concern and terror for him in the eyes of his aunt. But she was the same as always in the morning and he decided he imagined the look.
When he was nine, Dudley had found the courage to ask him why he would wake screaming and crying out.
"What are you dreaming about that makes you sound so horrible…" Dudley asks looking uncomfortable.
Dudley stopped bothering him after he'd turned six, when his night terrors caused the house to shake. It was the first time his Uncle and Aunt had truly looked frightened of him. Harry played with the frayed ends of his sleeves and mumbled his reply.
"Something painful. It's hard to explain. I dream of colours, but on those nights all I ever see is green. A bright green that hurts."
He doesn't know his aunt is listening until she drops the bowl in her hands. She's pale white, staring at him with horror. He panics, thinking he's going to be punished again. She doesn't strike him, instead she backs away looking horrified and disappears back into her room. He doesn't see her for the rest of the day, but ensures the house is spotless just in case. Dudley quietly disappears back into his own room, and they pretend nothing had happened.
When Uncle Vernon comes home, he hears them arguing and the sound of his Aunts wailing sobs. Harry shuts his eyes tightly and does his best to focus on the trio of colours that always brought him comfort. When he finally sleeps and dreams, the bright red and honey brown consume him. Almost as if they are protecting him from the painful green and he feels at peace.
Two days later, his Aunt sits him down on her precious white sofa. She holds a box full of old looking things and her eyes are red while her skin is pale white. She passes him a photo and he stares at the two people frozen in time.
The woman has hair so red; it reminds him of fire. She's smiling at the camera, dressed in white with her green eyes brightly gleaming. The man holding her is dressed in black, wearing something that looks like a robe. He wears glasses and has raven dark hair with warm brown eyes. Harry feels his heart pound, feeling as if he knows these people, but unable to recognise them.
He looks to his aunt, confused, and finds her watching him intently with shame and guilt.
"Who- Who are they?"
"Those are your parents," she croaks.
He suddenly can't breathe.
Harry Potter is nine when his Aunt tells him the truth of his mother and father.
When he next dreams two different shades of red and brown have joined his usual trio of colours. They dance together, swarming him with warmth and keeping the painful green far away.
On his eleventh birthday, he receives a letter inviting him to Hogwarts.
Dudley is the one to hand him a pen so he could reply, while his Aunt and Uncle pointedly ignore the letter's existence.
The next day a woman stands at his doorstep, dressed in odd clothing with a pointed hat on her head. She smiles when he opens the door for her, and he returns the expression hesitantly.
"Good morning Mr. Potter. I am Professor McGonagall of Hogwarts and will be your transfiguration teacher. I am here to help you purchase the necessary stationary required for your education at Hogwarts. Will your guardian be joining us?"
Harry shakes his head and quietly explains.
"Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon aren't comfortable around magic. I'll be fine on my own, my cousin should be home when were done to open the door."
Minerva purses her lips but nevertheless gives a nod and prompts him to follow her.
This is how Harry Potter, the infamous boy who lived, returns to the wizarding world.
Change grins, satisfied with his work, and reaches for the other two fate threads.