My upbringing is what some would probably call unnatural, perhaps even perverse. I mean how many people do you know had to live in a small closet of their only remaining relatives house for a decade? How about having their parents, friends, acquaintances, and strangers' die by a man who has sold his soul to the devil? Faced suicidal trials to save the world? No? I wouldn't think so.

Rubeus Hagrid is the man who re-introduced me back to a world of where people can fly on broom sticks, owls are used for the delivery system, people can disappear and reappear in a matter of seconds, creatures of your imagination could be found, potions can be found, broken bones and ailments can be cured with the right spells and potions, and of course, magic is everywhere.

Do you find me insane, mentally unstable, or even disturbed? Why wouldn't you? This is a world where you can only dream of and read in novels. For my kind and me this is the reality. It is the here and now. It also ends with death, like it does for you.

It was only a week before he would return to 12 Grimmauld Place with the Weasleys and he has only been with the Dursleys' for a day since he came back from Hogwarts.

A figure silently watched him from afar in the shadows as the young boy, no man, with raven hair and the greenest eyes paced around his small room thinking. About what?

Harry stopped pacing around his room of six years with the Dursleys' and sat down.

"I don't think I'll be able to find those Horcruxes in time, Hedwig," Harry said to his snowy white owl. "But that's not going to stop me from becoming a step closer to Voldemort's end.

Hedwig gave him a small screech. Harry couldn't tell whether she was trying to encourage him with that or telling him not to be a dunce about it.

'Horcrux?' a voice drifted into the room.

"Who's there?" Harry asked whipping around the small room. Hedwig started fluttering in her cage and was screeching.

Where had that voice come from? His wand was in his hands in a matter of seconds. His eyes scanned every shadow and crevice in the room. He even checked under his bed and in the closet. Nothing was out of place from the speck of dust swirling in the air to the sweater lying discarded on the floor in between the rug and broken quill.

Slowly, Harry put down his wand and shook his head.

"I'm not going crazy. I'm not going crazy. I'm not hearing things either for that matter. Just my mind playing tricks on me…Right Hedwig?"

She stopped screeching, but kept trying to get out of her cage.

"BOY! TELL THAT BLOODY BIRD OF YOURS TO SHUT ITS TRAP!" Uncle Vernon yelled from downstairs.

"Okay, Uncle Vernon," Harry said to him when he opened his door. He closed the door and looked at his owl. "You are okay, right?"

Hedwig tilted her head towards him.

"That's what I thought," Harry said. "But what spooked you? It wasn't that voice was it? Because it…wasn't real…right?"

Hedwig expanded her lovely wings at him and hooted a lot more calmly at him.

Harry started to feel that there was more to that voice than he thought. Now that he thought about it, the voice seemed to ask him what a horcrux was rather than say it. Harry doubted it was Voldemort and it couldn't of had been a spy from either the Order or the Death Eaters. What if it was someone else? Someone or something that meant to harm him?

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