Sorry people. No idea what that was but its fixed now. Thanks MammonDaughter:)
The next morning, Harry was awake long before Tory came into the room and the wait was killing him. Knowing that he would be punished if he left his room without Tory's permission, he remained in bed but his mind was already in the magical place with the magnificent books. He remembered every detail of it and imagined himself wandering among the darkened shelves to select a new book.
Finally, Tory entered the room grumbling about eggs and socks and was almost bowled over by Harry leaping from the bed charging towards him babbling about some book or other. The house elf rolled his eyes exasperatedly and ordered the child to cease pestering him and get his clothes on.
Not wanting to anger his caretaker any further, Harry immediately complied, pulling on a pair of muggle blue jeans and a long sleeve green sweater. Satisfied that his charge was dressed, Tory thrust a dark woolen cloak at him explaining that it would be getting colder and Harry would soon be immensely grateful for the added warmth.
After Harry had scarfed down a banana, Tory deemed his young charge sufficiently taken care of and apparated back to the kitchens muttering curses at everything that lived and breathed for the lot life had thrown him.
As Harry made his way, practically running, to the Place, he realized that the elf had been right as the stone floors and walls seemed to magnify the winter chill tenfold and he grasped his cloak tighter about himself. Finally, he arrived at the massive wooden doors and, without hesitation, pushed one open a crack and slipped inside, carefully closing it behind himself. As Harry turned around, his breathing again hitched and his heart leapt as he stared at the magnificence before him. He stood for a moment taking it in before walking slowly towards the nearest shelf. Harry moved along the shelf, running his fingers gently along the spines. Finally, a book caught his eye: "Wandless Magic For Beginners." Eager to begin, Harry pulled the book from its neighbors gazing at the silvery letters decorating the rich green leather as he walked the book over to a corner and sat down.
After having read about the theory behind magic the previous afternoon, Harry found the book relatively easy to understand and when the first practice spell was given, he decided to try it out. Lumos, the page read and Harry outstretched his hand and repeated it silently in his head, preparing to say it out loud. To his astonishment however, a soft, blue light appeared at his fingertips. Confused and delighted, Harry thought the spell again, this time with more force. The light grew brighter till Harry was sure that, if someone were to walk past the Library door, they couldn't help but notice it. At this thought, the light quickly diminished till it was barely visible. Without thinking, Harry murmured a soft finite incantatem and the light disappeared. It wasn't till he turned the page that he realized that he had just said a spell without having read about it. Puzzled, he read on, trying out different spells (both silently and verbally) by that afternoon, the child had finished the book and had over a hundred spells under his belt (the photographic memory really helped with remembering them all).
As he was replacing that book, a silvery glimmer near the top shelf caught his eye. A quickly thought accio and the book soared softly into his hand. The lettering on the cover though, was not like any of the lettering he had seen in the other books. The flowing twists and curves, however foreign, seemed to call out to him with a voice of their own, a soft, melodic voice he was sure he had heard at some point in his life. Perhaps every unborn child, lying still in the darkness, can hear the gentle voice of magic as it flows through their veins, a soft, steady trickle sounding like no instrument of human invention. Regardless, when young Harry gazed down at the text before him, as with the English letters before, he found that he was able to make sense of what it said and, with this newfound joy, he carried his treasure to his corner.
He read well into the evening and at bedtime, found himself having to place the beautiful book back where he had found it and run upstairs to beat Tory to his room. He made it there just in the nick of time and leapt in bed before the house elf got the chance to reprimand him. Tory came into the room and, on finding his charge already in bed, apparated wordlessly back to whatever important task the care of Harry had interrupted him from.
"Whatever Tory had been doing had clearly preoccupied his mind completely as he forgot to wake Harry up the nextmorning. Waking up was not a problem for the child as he was usually awake at the crack of dawn anyway but breakfast...that was a problem. By 7:30, Harry's grumbling stomach told him that Tory was clearly not coming and that he would have to fend for himself as far as food was concerned. The three-year-old sat in his twisted sheets and called out "Towy, I want some bwead pwease." What the child had initially intended to say, and what actually came out of his mouth were two completely different things. Someone passing by the door would not have heard the stuttering voice of a toddler but rather a silvery foreign tongue, sung more than spoken, the voice of an angel.
Downstairs in the kitchens, if Tory happened to have noticed that one of the rolls he had set out for James' and Aaron's breakfast spread vanish, he didn't think anything of it, but Harry definitely noticed when a warm, fresh-baked roll appeared floating in the air in front of him. Delighted, He tried again, this time requesting a glass of orange juice. It appeared as the bread had, not even spilling a drop. The child quickly ate the breakfast he had acquired by rather unconventional means before his caretaker had the chance to remember him and return to find the boy undermining his authority. When Harry finished his breakfast, he vanished the glass with a thought and wrapped himself up in his cloak to return to the foreign book.