Childhood

*Surrey, England*September 1985*

'Do I have to mum?' A five-year-old boy with emerald-green eyes, a messy mop of raven-black hair, pale skin with a slightly small build and clothes that looked like they had seen better days walked into a school with a small scowl.

'Yes sweety, I can't teach you everything' a voice replied from inside his head as the boy looked around.

This boy was Harry Potter, and he wasn't a normal five-year-old, for Harry Potter had endured what normal children couldn't even imagine.

Harry Potter was a wizard, but not any kind, a prophesized wizard.

A few months before his birth a prophesy had been made, making either him or one other as a saviour for a world that had left him to himself a year after his birth, a few hours after his parents had been murdered by the wizard the prophesy had said he would have to beat.

Something had happened though, thanks to his mother and a ritual she had discovered he had been protected from almost everything.

For some reason he had a scar in the form of a lightning bolt on his forehead, he didn't mind though, it looked awesome.

The ritual his mother had done had somehow gone wrong, and instead of her going to the afterlife, her soul had been anchored to his body, allowing her to live inside his mind.

Lily Potter lived inside he son, in a really literal sense.

Ever since that Halloween four years ago Harry had lived in the home of the Dursleys, living like a leper in quarantine and working like a slave for two years now.

This had made him indifferent to most things; he was apathetic to all that happened around him, he was afraid of only one thing: losing his mother.

Having been brought up in poverty, with only his magic and mother with him, watching as tendrils of uncontrolled magic intercepted every hit that came his way, watching as a boy who threw tantrums got more things that most boys their age, feeling the strain on his body as he worked on the garden under the sun.

It had only been the constant presence of his mother's soul that kept him from snapping and using his magic to retaliate.

But he was sane; he had to act like it.

It simply wouldn't do going to a loony bin before he re-entered the wizarding world, too many things to do before that.

'And why can't you? You said you completed your muggle education' Harry didn't want to spend half of his day dealing with spoilt kids his age, who didn't even know how to read

'They do know how to read, it's taught in kinder garden, and I never got a teaching degree' Lily scolded her son.

'They are kids'

'So are you'

Harry sighed, 'I'm not going to win this, am I?'

Lily smiled, 'don't worry sweety, I may teach you something if you behave, and it's only for five years'

Harry groaned, five years spent with kids that wanted everything for themselves.

Great, just great.

*One year later*#4 Private Drive*

Sitting in the darkness of his cupboard, neatly organized to allow all the freedom of movement possible, Harry assessed the rune cluster he had painted on the staircase floor.

If his mother was to be believed, and she was as she had never done anything to him, the runes, once charged would give his cupboard more space, something he needed terribly as his head was already banging on the roof already.

Harry pushed his magic into the cluster, watching as it lit up and as the stairs started to stretch.

Before the cluster blew up in his face.

Harry scowled, 'MUM!'

Lily chuckled awkwardly, 'heh, I suppose crayon isn't good'

The boy's brow twitched, 'you should have known' some wax had gotten in his eyes, not counting the mess his face most likely was right now.

'I told you to use tendrils as a precaution,' Lily argued.

Harry wiped his face, 'because you thought the runes were wrong, and you checked your memories many times' it wasn't that he was angry with his mother, just, a bit annoyed at the result.

He wanted a bit more headroom.

'Awww, come here you big cry-baby' cooed Lily.

Harry sighed, 'I am not a cry-baby'

'But you'll always be MY baby'

Harry sighed again and lay down, "whatever mum" he muttered, exhausted by the happenings of the evening.

*Mindscape*

Harry walked through the familiar streets that made up his mindscape, a lively village called Godric's Hollow.

Back when his mother was alive, her body at least, she had lived in this village for two years with his father, back when the wizarding world was at war.

When her soul had entered his body and settled on his mind, she had put all the time he was awake into building his mindscape from memory.

The construction had been finished when he was four-and-a half, half-a-year ago.

The sleeping moments of his life until she had managed to contact him during his third year of life were spent with him sleeping on her, something she couldn't seem to forget.

Her merciless teasing about him being her little baby said as much.

The raven-haired boy looked around, smiling as the wolves, stags and dogs pranced around and bobbed their heads at him.

It was calming, in a sense.

His mother had explained him that the animals were defences she had created to protect his mind, based on some figures of her past.

He hadn't meant to make her cry when he asked.

The subject was never brought up again.

He found his mother lying down on the dirt in front of a house, with a stag nuzzling her while she hugged it.

Harry stayed silent and only lay down between the two, his head finding a pillow on his mother's belly.

*One month later*

Having redone the runic cluster on the roof of his tiny little cupboard, this time with chalk that was stolen from school and loaded with magic for a week so it could work, Harry pushed his magic into the cluster from behind his cot.

His last attempt had showed him that as smart and quick-witted his mother was, she had proven to him what she had said time and time again and he refused to acknowledge.

Never put all your trust in someone.

He still did, only with a bit less fanaticism.

Slowly but surely the roof got higher, or the floor lower?

It didn't matter, he had more room now, and as the walls had also separated a bit he could now lay down with comfortable legroom, and it was still growing.

Now all he had to do was get enough money and buy a hammock.

Oh yes, night would be more comfortable now.

It didn't beat sleeping with his mother holding him, but it would have to do.

*August 1987*

A now seven-year-old Harry Potter lay on the backyard of his relative's house, basking on the sun, something that should be nothing but healthy for the liberty deprived youth.

A few weeks ago, after Harry had let it slip that the school was performing a health check, and that they would probably be going to the home of unhealthy students to see the reason they were, well, unhealthy.

Ever since, as to avoid investigation, they had given him more food, let him out of the cupboard during weekends, as long as he stayed outside the house, and ignored him altogether.

This had the good side-effect of giving him more freedom around Surrey.

The park past Magnolia Crescent was rather pretty during autumn, even more during summer.

But no matter the place, nothing beat lying down on the floor and letting the day fly past.

Maybe he would do this the next day, but on the park.

There was this big tree that gave a really nice shade.

*Park*the next day*

Harry sighed in contentment as he watched the clouds drift by the sky.

His mother had been pushing him to learn even more runes, and he was already starting with the third runic language: Gypsy

It was hard, especially so because his mother was also teaching him French, why? He didn't know, but who was he to question Lily Potter?

'It will help you in the future' Lily's voice cut through his lazy thoughts.

Harry sighed, 'I know, you've told and told me, but I don't see how'

Lily sighed, getting ready to explain the same thing, AGAIN, 'Runes are important for all kinds of enchantments and wards, something you have already applied to your room, and France is the closest place to England in the Mainland, you said it yourself sweety, you want to travel.'

'But English is spoken everywhere' Harry whined.

'It is also resented in some parts of the world'

Harry frowned, 'that's the Yanks' fault'

'And the Empire didn't help much'

'That was a century ago.'

'Harry' the boy shut up, recognizing the dangerous undertone, 'sweety, just don't do as I say, you'll thank me when you have a nice girlfriend to charm'

Harry blushed and scowled, 'MUM, I'm seven'

Lily smiled, even as he was, her son was so easy to tease, 'Oh, I can imagine already, six years from now, you'll notice a pretty witch, and you will come to me, begging for advice on how to woo her, and I, being the good mum I am will give you advice, even though you'll leave me to go with someone else' Harry could almost feel the mock-sadness, 'but then she'll break your heart and you'll come back, crawling and asking for forgiveness for ignoring me'

'Mum, you know you're the most important thing in my life'

'And I still don't understand why you don't try to make friends'

'Kids my age are brats'

'And so are you from time to time'

'I try to keep it down'

'And you just had a moment'

Harry sighed and sat up, 'fine, just because I don't want this to happen, AGAIN'

'I love you too, sweety' and the connection went silent

As much as he loved her, his mother really was too much from time to time.

Harry stood up and looked around the playground, noticing that in the time he had been speaking with his mother some kids had entered the park.

Most had ignored him altogether, except for one girl, who walked up to him with a curious frown on her face.

"Hullo, why are you alone?" the girl asked.

She had a dark, almost black, red hair, dark green eyes and most of her face was covered in freckles, though Harry did admit, silently and carefully as he didn't want his mother to hear, she was kind of cute.

Noticing that he had not answered yet, Harry cleared his throat and said, "It is nice to lay down here, there is too much noise there"

The girl's frown turned even more confused, "but there are no games here" she said.

"I know, that's the reason it's quiet enough for me to lay down" Harry replied.

"But you're alone" the girl grinned, and Harry found himself dreading her next words, "I'll keep you company, and you'll be my friend from now on"

Harry sighed, "There is no way you can leave me alone, is there?"

The girl shook her head, "no, you'll be my friend from now on, and I won't take a no for an answer" without waiting for his answer and started dragging him to the swings.

Harry groaned, but recalled that he had said he would at least try to make friends; it wouldn't hurt much, right?

"What's your name anyway?" the girl asked him, "mine is Lisa, Lisa Turpin"

"Harry" he answered Lisa, "Harry Potter"

That was the start of a troublesome friendship.

Ah, to live the life of a child.

I still miss those lovely days I wouldn't have homework on weekends.

Now, those whe have read the books, because she doesn't appear on the movies, will recognize the name of the girl, to those who don't, she is one of the Ravenclaws in Harry's year.

Since not much is know about her, there you go.

Now, some of may think wrongly about Harry's magic, or think in a way I don't.

When I planned the story, I meant for the 'magic tendrils and shell' to be something like Gaara's sand from Naruto, on a lower level that only reacts to purely physical things and breakable by higher-tier or over-powered low-tier magic, like a reducto or bombarda or an over-powered knockback jinx.

Also, caligraphy is something difficult to children, I should know, I'm 15 and my handwriting is only few ways away from a doctor's, but I had a friend, I say 'had' because I haven't seen el cabron for years, but he had a handwriting better than my dad's, who has the neatest handwritting I've seen, and he had the amazing talent of copying what he saw with a really limited mistake margin.

That is why Harry could do the runes.

The bit with the crayon and the chalk...I read a story a long time ago, it had Harry finding a book that described how to make magical chalk, how to make dopplegangers, but the story was never continued.

I rembered that in most rituals pictured by pop-culture, the circles are done with chalk, salt or are carved into the floor, so I decided to fall into a possible cliché because it actually sounds believable.

Not much more to say, other than I'll go bacj to normal schedule of updating every story once a week once the next monday comes.

See you next week then.

Goodbye