CHAPTER 1:

AN ABSTRACT OF SEVEN YEARS(1)

The wind howled as the massive craft hovered in the stormy sky, its lethal energies laying waste to the ancient village of Madain Sari. There was no irony in the fact that the massive orb underneath it, resembling vaguely some eldritch eye, bathed the village in an apocalyptic light that resembled blood. Only a grim aptness, a perverse appropriate nature, giving the landscape the features of Hell.

On the outskirts of the village, a man, his head (adorned with a single horn in the middle) bleeding from a grievous wound inflicted by debris, was making the finishing touches to a magic circle. In the middle of it was a woman screaming in the painful throes of childbirth. Said woman also had a horn in the middle of her forehead.

The man didn't have much time. Somehow, the craft hovering above them had blocked those trying to flee the village on foot, though he knew that at least two had managed to escape via boat. But on the storm-swept ocean, he doubted that Jane or her daughter Sarah would survive(2).

This, however, was an act of sheer desperation. He needed to ensure the survival of his child and his wife. The circle would send them somewhere safe, at least he hoped.

He knew only a few summoners would survive this destruction. The Carols were travelling around the continent, and they would come back to behold the village in ruin. And not everyone would be killed by this unnatural maelstrom. But he knew he would die, and unless he got his act together, so would his wife and child.

The circle was now complete. "Goodbye," the man whispered, tears running from his eyes, mingling with the blood running from his head, before he summoned up every reserve of magic he could, and poured it into the circle.

Nothing happened. In desperation, he began pouring more and more. In a brilliant flare of light, the man seemed to become radiant, his now-ragged clothes becoming scintillating robes, his horn becoming longer, his eyes glowing. It was the power of Trance, a surge of emotion lending further power to him. One last, terminal act of desperation.

In an actinic strobe of light, the woman disappeared. The man breathed a sigh of relief, even as it was the last thing he ever did. A massive wall near him, which had been swaying in the maelstrom like a tree in a gale, collapsed onto him, mashing his innards into mince, and sending a gout of blood jetting out of his mouth. His last thoughts before he was consumed by the darkness was that at least his wife and child were safe.

Then, the light left his emerald eyes…

In his desperation, the man, whose name would be lost to the ruins of Madain Sari, had made a critical error. Pushing that much energy into the magic circle had only served to breach the walls between dimensions, weakened by the attacks of the Invincible, the craft laying waste to Madain Sari.

So, instead of transporting to a safe place elsewhere on Gaia, his wife was sent to another world. And most definitely not to safety. She was transported right into the middle of a civil war between mages, on a world where magic, rather than being a part of everyday life, was hidden and concealed. In fact, she ended up sprawled on the table in the middle of a meeting of one of the factions involved in said civil war, much to their understandable surprise and shock.

His wife perished in childbirth, despite the best efforts of those who found her. Once they had realised she hadn't come from their enemies, they had tried their best, but to no avail. Her child, however, survived, his mother giving his life to bring his own into being.

It was both fortunate and unfortunate that the child resembled that of two of those present. Their own newborn child had only recently perished, apparently of an illness, though dark whispers spread rumours of a poison or a curse. The oldest of those present declared that the child would have his horn removed, so that he would pass without comment amongst others.

And thus, the unnamed child would be given the name of Harry Potter, thus setting him on a course that he had no control over.

He lived happily and obliviously with his adoptive family, who came to view him as their son. Admittedly, they were concerned when images of strange beings appeared around him when stressed or frightened. Beings that soothed him, who talked to him, and to them. Beings with names like Valefor, Yojimbo, Anima, and the Magus Sisters. But they loved the boy as if he was their very own. They were willing to die for their child.

As things turned out, unfortunately, they did.

Harry Potter was ignorant of both parts of his heritage. He had been kept that way by his relatives. This could have been a good thing, given that one reason he was left with the Dursleys was to shield him from his fame at becoming the Boy Who Lived, but the Dursleys also went out of their way to make his life miserable. They could have shown him love and affection. They could have shown him apathy and indifference. Even those would have been more tolerable, compared to the odium that the Dursleys showed Harry Potter.

The horse-faced, giraffe-necked Petunia Dursley didn't have issues with magic as much as an entire subscription. Her sister, the late and (by the Dursleys) most certainly unlamented Lily Evans, had gotten magic. Petunia hadn't. She thus got a major chip on her shoulder, with psychological complexes that were actually more simples. Her husband, the walrus-like Vernon Dursley, was obsessed with normality (ironically, his idea of normality actually meant affluence, though he was full of effluence), and viewed Harry as a convenient punching bag, as did his porcine son, Dudley. All three viewed Harry as a servant, an encumbrance, and a ready-made scapegoat for when things went wrong.

The boy grew up small and scrawny for his age, with emerald eyes and messy dark hair that was eminently untameable. He had two scars on his forehead. The first was more noticeable: an ugly, inflamed thing that looked vaguely like a thunderbolt. The second, which was far less noticeable unless you scrutinised his face, was in the middle, roughly circular, fading, and had something of a raised area of the skull underneath, just barely.

He had imaginary friends with him, friends who were reluctant to reveal themselves to the Dursleys, lest they be exploited, or else lead to the death of Harry. They could annihilate the Dursleys with a command from their master, but they knew it would only serve to bring unwanted attention to them. So, instead, Harry was comforted by his imaginary friends, although Anima did give the Dursleys frequent nightmares, where they were subjected to her Pain and Oblivion attacks. They regaled him with tales of Gaia, and of Madain Sari, and the Eidolon Wall. They told him where he came from, and what he was truly capable of. He could scarcely believe it, with the wonder all but beaten out of him by the Dursleys, but he listened. They were the only ones who cared. They taught him magic as he lay in the cupboard under the stairs the Dursleys deigned to grant him as a bedroom. He certainly had a lot of practise with healing magic after the Dursleys' ministrations.

It would be so easy to keep talking about how horrible the Dursleys were, and how miserable they made one Harry Potter, but to do so would also be tedious at best, and psychologically damaging at worst. So we will move onto the day that Harry Potter's life changed forever, and, debatably, for the better. He would come across life-threatening situations, face monsters and people who wanted to exploit him for their own ends, but he would also make new friends, behold wonders, and get a better life.

That being said, this had nothing to do with Hogwarts. After all, this day happened when Harry was seven years old.

It happened on a rare school trip, one that had taken their class to the Wookey Hole Caves(3). The cave system was famous for being used in film and television, but even then, had a mystical reputation. Petunia, in hindsight, didn't know how Harry had managed to get his permission slip signed, she usually refused the boy. Perhaps one of the teachers took pity on him, and allowed him to come anyway. That was unusual, as the teachers usually treated Harry with distrust, given the poison the Dursleys dripped into their ears.

Harry had wandered the caves with a sense of wonder, even as teachers admonished him (a touch too harshly, their perceptions of the boy coloured by the Dursleys' machinations), enjoying himself. Here, there was magic, he was sure of it, despite his relatives' frequent denials.

He wandered off from the main attractions, unaware that his obese cousin had followed him, the notions of a vicious plan taking form within Dudley Dursley's piggy little mind. Harry soon came across a hole with a rusty railing around it. The sign claimed that, thousands of years ago, it was reputed to be a place where spirits could be summoned for counsel, assistance, and even to do battle with. These were but the faintest of legends, but they still stated that the Wookey Hole was perhaps a gate to another realm. The hole itself was said to be all but bottomless, and any attempt to spelunk into it had ended with the persons attempting to do so disappearing…or being frightened out of their wits.

Harry, fascinated in a dark kind of way, peered into that abyss, half-expecting to find something staring back. Here, there was wonder. Here, there was fantasy.

Suddenly, he was grabbed from behind, and the familiar, hated voice of his cousin hissed in his ear. "Say goodbye, freak!" And he was shoved over the railing, part of it collapsing. With a brief shriek of fear, Harry Potter tumbled into that abyss…

The authorities heard from Dudley that the railing broke when Harry leaned up against it too much, and there was no evidence to suggest otherwise, merely suspicion. Dudley bragged about it quietly to his father, who was elated…not knowing that his wife had heard it. She shuddered. They were laughing. Laughing as Dudley recounted how he had pushed Harry into the hole, how Harry screamed, and how Dudley had run to the authorities, all sorrowful and crying crocodile tears, for his cousin. The authorities could do little: the hole was extraordinarily deep, and nobody had ever reached the bottom safely. Harry Potter was dead, and lost forever at the bottom of a pit so deep, it may as well have been bottomless.

That was what got her. Not that Harry had been murdered by her son, but that her son was capable of murder. And that her husband had gone along with it.

Petunia was many things, many bad things. She would wish someone was dead, like her sister. There were times that she had wished Harry was dead, or had never been born. But she had never thought of murdering her nephew. There were lines too vile for her to cross. The fact that her son and her husband joked and laughed about such a thing shook her to her very core. Would they kill her one day? Would Vernon Dursley one day kill her? Or worse, her own son, despite everything she had done?

Petunia Dursley didn't cry. She stared at the wall opposite her, from the couch in her well-appointed living room. All paid for by the money they got for being guardian of the boy by the government. Money they had effectively stolen.

An unfamiliar sensation filled her heart and soul. Not quite remorse, but certainly fear and guilt. Fear of judgement, in any case. A judgement that may come all too soon.

But enough about these vile parodies of humanity. Let's get back to the fate of one Harry Potter, who, contrary to what those in the world he was expelled from believed, didn't die.

Instead, he ended up, sprawled, bruised and hurt, but alive, in the middle of a vast, circular space. Groaning in pain, he got to his feet. Surrounding him on all sides was murals of strange and wonderful creatures.

His Eidolons appeared, surrounding him, gaping at the wall. "I don't believe it," murmured Anima, currently in her more human guise as a woman in her early thirties.

"Are we…home?" Mindy, one of the Magus Sisters who appeared as a young girl, asked.

"This appears to be the Eidolon Wall," Yojimbo remarked, a tall man with his arms usually crossed. "And it feels like Madain Sari…"

Anima had returned to Harry, embracing the boy as he began to sob, while the other Eidolons looked on. The poor boy had just nearly been murdered by that brute of a cousin of his, and if they were still in the same world, all of the Eidolons present would have gone to the Dursleys and wiped them out without compunction. Even Yojimbo, the calmest and most stoic amongst them, was wondering how to make them die slowly and painfully of multiple slashes from his swords.

Their moment was ruined when a girl rushed into the area, accompanied by a number of strange creatures. Said creatures had white fur, purple bat-like wings on their backs, and what looked like a red pom-pom on an antenna on their heads. They looked to be the epitome of cuteness.

The girl accompanying them was about five years old, with blue hair adorned with a yellow bow. From her forehead, a horn protruded. She was dressed in a magenta and pink outfit with yellow coveralls and ornamental wings adorning the back. Her expression was torn between curiosity and outrage. "Hey! Who are you guys, and what are you doing here?!" she demanded.

"Eiko," said one of the flying creatures, "I think most of them are Eidolons, kupo."

"Wait, what? Seriously?" The girl strode right up to them, and peered at them. "You look like normal people to me…but I know Eidolons can look like normal people."

"Of course we can," Valefor (a red-haired young woman in appearance) said, patiently, kneeling down to come to eye level with the girl. "Are we in Madain Sari?"

"Of course!"

"Good. We were hoping as such. I am Valefor. That boy is our summoner, Harry Potter. The one hugging him is Anima. These lovely ladies are the Magus Sisters, and that man with the dog is Yojimbo. And you are?"

"Eiko Carol!" the girl said proudly. "And these guys are Mocha, Moco, Chimomo, Momatose, Morrison, and Mog."

Seeing Harry's blank look, Anima said, gently, "They're Moogles, Harry. A race very in tune with magic."

"Oh." Harry, rather timidly, stepped forward, and offered the girl his hand. "It's…nice to meet you, Eiko."

She grabbed it and shook it enthusiastically. "Nice to meet you too, Harry! You're a summoner? But where's your horn?"

"It got removed when he was a newborn," Anima said. "Enough of it remains that we can communicate, and even manifest physically."

"WHAAAT?! But my Eidolons can't do that!" Eiko yelped, leaping into the air in a petulant tantrum and some surprise. Then, a bit abashed at yelling, she put her hands behind her, and swayed from side to side sheepishly. "Sorry."

"It's all right," Harry said, trying to avoid cringeing. Partly at the volume, and partly because good things never came from yelling. In fact, yelling tended to be a prelude to either being forced into the cupboard, or else getting hit. Usually by Vernon Dursley's meaty hands.

Eiko peered into his face, before saying, "Are you okay, Harry?"

"I…uh…" The shock of everything, like his near-death experience, learning that the world his imaginary friends told him about was real, and the girl who was by turns loud and kind, was all too much. Harry's eyes fluttered upwards, and then he sagged to the ground.

"Hey!" Eiko yelped, rushing forward, her eyes wide with concern. She checked the boy, before saying to the Moogles, "Hey, guys, can you help me get him indoors?"

"We can do that ourselves," Cindy, the eldest and most rotund of the Magus Sisters said, picking Harry off the ground.

"Huh. Eidolons that remain solid, even after the summoner's out cold," one of the Moogles remarked. "Okay, this way, kupo!"

The strange procession left the Eidolon Wall of Madain Sari, marking with its passing another passing: that of a life of neglect. Now, Harry Potter had gained a new life: one with family, and friends, even if it was a little unconventional.

It wouldn't remain free of strife, and darkness impinged on the world. But Harry was ignorant of that. And in a way, this day felt in years to come like he had finally come home.

Which, indeed, he had.

CHAPTER 1 ANNOTATIONS:

Not that promising a beginning compared to Harry Potter and the Cetra Heritage, with a lot of little scenes and timeskips. But stick around, it definitely gets better. Hopefully it has already with the meeting with Eiko.

Now, in case you're wondering how the Eidolons are able to exist outside of summoning in battle, remember in the game that Ramuh at least appears in such a manner.

The concept of Harry being pushed into a deep hole in the Wookey Hole Caves and into another world actually came from an earlier fanfic idea I had that didn't quite go anywhere. It was originally a crossover with Final Fantasy VI, and then Final Fantasy IV. As I realised it seemed to be little more than a rehashing of the books, I abandoned it in favour of Harry Potter and the Cetra Heritage. That being said, I revisited a couple of the central conceits here, including the Dursley men being pleased with themselves, while Petunia is horrified.

1. An abstract can mean a summary, particularly in academic papers. Hence the chapter title.

2. Sarah being the birth name of Princess Garnet, aka Dagger, though this is an Easter egg in the game.

3. The Wookey Hole Caves, for those of you not in the know, are a famous cave system in the UK, in Somerset. They were used for two Doctor Who stories (Revenge of the Cybermen and The End of Time), at least one Blake's 7 episode (I think Project Avalon), and so on. However, while there are no crevasses or holes that lead to other worlds, or any summoning areas AFAIK, the caves are steeped in superstition regardless.