DISCLAIMER: I don't own shit. This is pure, unadulterated fanfiction.

AN: Welcome to my inaugural fic! I couldn't think of a better homage to the series than dropping it on Halloween and am pleased I can finally start to share this with you all. I'm not one for ANs that could either be fics unto themselves or a full on discussion board, so don't expect too much up here. As the description said, this is a heavy AU and an epic, so prepare to throw away those preconceived notions, cause we're about to embark on a looong journey. Anyway, enjoy!

Prologue - No More Normality

Harry Potter was not normal, and that was a problem.

Looking at him you wouldn't be able to tell it, his messy black hair, however unruly, was fairly common among young boys. His eyes, a striking green and in need of thick, round glasses to work properly, were rare but not so strange. Even his most distinctive feature, a jagged lightning bolt of a scar on his forehead, was just an odd remnant from the accident that killed his parents. Such tragedies are far too common in the harsh world, and not too unusual.

No, what made Harry Potter different was the fact that he was a wizard, and decidedly not normal.

For most people this wouldn't be problematic, perhaps it would even be a boon, but for Harry it was a curse, dooming him to the scorn of his family. After the death of his parents, a car crash he was told, he had been sent to live with his only remaining relatives, the Dursleys. For them, normality was the highest of standards, an expectation that they held to everyone and everything. After all, the Dursleys were the epitome of normalcy, at least in their own eyes.

The Dursleys lived at No. 4 Privet Dr., a dreadfully plain house in a dreadfully plain neighborhood. The rows upon rows of identical houses were distinguished only by small numbers on the front and the most minuscule of differences in decor. No. 4 was the most plain and basic of all.

Inside was where they lived, there was Harry, Cousin Dudley, Aunt Petunia, and Uncle Vernon.

Harry hated them all.

Uncle Vernon was a moderately successful businessman for a drill company called Grunnings, and had very little friends to speak of. He was about as wide as he was tall and had a mustache that he was very proud of. He frequently spent his time complaining, watching the television, and making sure that Harry wasted as little of his time and money as possible.

Aunt Petunia was a housewife, tall and slender, who had the incurable disease of caring too much about what others thought of her. When she wasn't eavesdropping on the neighbors to fuel her gossip addiction, she enjoyed ordering Harry to do the cooking, ordering Harry to do the cleaning, and ordering Harry to do the gardening.

Finally, there was Dudley. Spoiled and pampered beyond belief, he was the same age as Harry and acted half of it. He was doing an admirable job of surpassing his father's size and an even finer job of being an utter ass.

All in all, Harry hated his life, and it was because of them.

It hadn't always been like that of course, when he was first placed with them at the tender age of 2 things started off well. He had a few memories of them treating him like a second son, not as nice as they treated Dudley of course but he had been cared for. Aunt Petunia had told him of his parents, even if it was in the vaguest of details, about how her sister, Lily, had run off with 'that Potter boy' and gotten married, only to die in a car crash. Uncle Vernon never said a word about either of them. Since Petunia's family, the Evans, were long gone it was a small and lonely life for them, outside of the occasional visits from Vernon's sister. She was awful too.

For some time things were normal, the Dursleys were well-off, Harry got good marks and stayed out of trouble once he started school, and him and Dudley got along, youthful spats aside. Odd things happened from time to time, like the rapid disappearance of scrapes and bruises accumulated from childish play, or picking up skills uncannily quickly, but he was only a child and didn't notice. That ignorance saved him from asking questions, dangerous questions. Questions about why he was different.

Magic, of course, was the answer. When Harry turned 7, things changed. Something deep within him reared its head, something magical.

While daydreaming in class, bored from the lesson already, Miss Campbell had called on him after noticing he wasn't paying attention. Caught unawares and wholly embarrassed, he was scolded in front of the entire class despite knowing the answer to her question. Panic, anger, shame, they all welled up within him…and the teacher's hair turned blue. The class went into a frenzy, laughs and jeering all around, and Harry sat there, knowing that he did that. Somehow. The next few days were some of the worst of his life.

The school had thought he devised some elaborate prank, punishing him accordingly, but his guardians knew the truth. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had sat him down, rage and disappointment clear on their faces, and told him that he had failed them. He was a freak. They had thought they stamped it out of him, but Harry was magical, taking after his parents. A witch, and a wizard. The Potters. The parents he never knew, with abilities he couldn't understand. Things were different after that.

Uncle Vernon held magic in such distaste he could hardly stand to look at Harry, or think of him as a person. Gone was his place in the family, neglect and scorn replacing love and care. Aunt Petunia treated him like a nightmare, either screaming or sobbing whenever he did anything remotely close to being odd. His modest room was exchanged for the cupboard under the stairs, big enough to be livable, and small enough to feel trapped. Gone were his friends, Dudley had taken his parents' word and turned against him, the impressionable youth stealing his friends away and furthering his descent into a simple schoolyard bully. Tormented and ostracized, Harry had no home either with the Dursleys, or among his peers. His cupboard became the only safe haven for him.

Chores were dumped upon him as if he was a beast of burden, working and cleaning and cooking from the moment he got home until the moment they banished him from their presence for the night. His first attempts at revolt, at regaining what he once had, were punished swiftly and with glee from Aunt Petunia, who was determined that his freakishness could be cured if only he tried hard enough. Any magical incidents were dealt with by Uncle Vernon, Petunia being unable to cope with it all, who seemed consumed by disappointment and revulsion at the idea of a wizard in the family.

Everyone at school had seemed to forget the incident, at least the specifics, or chalked it up to mania and youthful imagination. Miss Campbell hadn't even remembered it when he went to apologize, but she still held the feeling of distrust towards him. Harry didn't bother with that afterwards.

Little did he know, his magic, uncontrolled and unknowable, was just beginning.

A vicious cycle soon formed. Something would happen, either the relatively harmless incidents such as ending up on the school's roof after being chased by his old friends, his new tormentors, or somehow cleaning all of Petunia's dishes in the blink of an eye. These were manageable, and Harry was often able to hide them from his guardians.

Then, there were the bad ones. The ones he couldn't hide. Like, when tackled and pummeled by the bullies that plagued him, he'd scream and send the others crying home sporting burns and bruises. The times when his classmates and teachers would accuse him of cheating and their face would break out in massive warts. Those saw him locked in his cupboard for days.

The worst of it all was that his magic paid no mind to the consequences Harry faced as a result of it. He could never feel or know when things would happen, and all his attempts to control or stifle it failed. Until one day, it clicked.

June 23rd 1991, London, England

Today is a good day, Harry Potter thought to himself. It was Dudley's 11th birthday, and they were celebrating it in a completely normal way, a trip to the zoo. Normally such an honor would be denied him, but his usual sitter, Mrs. Figg, had been unavailable. No one else would watch the freak. So instead of spending the day with the old lady and her cats, he was getting to see the animals, and enjoy being outside without being forced to do yardwork.

He trailed behind his relatives, and Dudley's friend Piers Polkiss who had been more formally invited, trying his best to not provoke them. Watching other families walk past, kids laughing and parents holding their hands, made Harry long for what he could've had, what he should've had. He tried to enjoy it anyways. He kept his eyes low, trying to not bother anyone and remain unseen, and watched his family enter one of the restaurants that the park had. His uncle turned backwards, and gave him a glare, a shooing gesture accompanying it. Harry sighed, I know that look. I guess it was too much to hope that I get some food here. His Uncle enjoyed making Harry go hungry, no sense 'wasting his money' he said.

He wandered off, knowing he'd have to catch up with them later or risk being left there to find his way home, alone. It wouldn't be the first time. He followed a group of others, blending in as to not draw attention as a potentially lost child. He had learned pretty quickly to not draw attention to himself, there were less problems that way. They eventually settled at the lion exhibit, where Harry relaxed his arms on the rail and looked down at the creatures. They lazed about, grooming each other and occasionally prowling over to a watering hole for a drink. Harry felt a sad sort of kinship with them. They looked rather bored, and the habitat surely wasn't large enough for them. Like me, in my cupboard. Except they're not alone.

His mind began to wander, as it often did, and his thoughts drifted to his parents and his magic, as it even more frequently did. I wonder if we're the only ones. If the Potters are just freaks and everyone else is normal. There were no photos of the Potters in the Dursley residence, and Harry knew nothing about them, except for his mother's name. Uncle Vernon often said other, ruder thins about them, but Harry didn't believe him. He also hadn't met anyone else who could do magic, despite his best attempts to pay attention to anything that might seem out of the ordinary. I wonder what they were like, if they loved me, Harry thought as shadowy images of his parents formed in his mind. He didn't remember anything from his time before the Dursleys, not even his parents got lost in himself, the lions providing a stimulating background for his eyes while his mind worked. People came and went and he paid no attention, until a few zoo attendants began congregating in his peripherals. The group he had been hiding with was gone, and he was alone at the exhibit.

He pushed off the railing and started walking away from them. The last thing I need is Vernon getting called over the speakers. I better find them, he day had gotten away from him while he idled, and Harry had heard his uncle say they would be staying until closing time, 'getting their money's worth' he called it.

Harry checked each of the exhibits briefly until he caught up with them as they were entering the Reptile House. Harry steeled himself, just need to get through this last stretch, today hasn't been so bad. His stomach groaned, reminding him of reality. Dudley and Piers were pressed up against the glass, and Vernon and Petunia both gave him a sidelong glance as he approached. They moved on to the next feature, leaving the boys behind. Dudley and Piers sidled up beside him, acting as if they were the best of friends while their arms roughly jostled him.

"Oh there you are! We were afraid you had fallen into one of the enclosures and gotten eaten!" Dudley said, laughing and sneering at Harry.

"No no no, we thought the zoo had kidnapped him. They don't have a freak exhibit yet after all!" Piers continued.

I shouldn't do anything, it'll just make it worse, Harry thought, clenching his teeth.

"So, what do you think of the snake cousin? Its just lounging around on the rocks, bloody thing is as useless as you are!"

Don't, you're better than them. Don't. Harry prayed that nothing happened.

Dudley, irritated that nothing was getting to him, gave another barb accompanied by a shove, "Think we should ask Mum and Dad to let the zoo adopt you? I'm sure you'd fit in more here."

Harry cracked, "Sure thing Dudley, but only if you join me. The snakes need some exercise and it'd be quite the workout to wrap their way around you." The retort sprang from his mouth before he even thought about it, instant regret following.

Dudley reddened, "Piss off freak. Just wait until we get home, Piers and I are gonna go Harry-Hunting." He gave a nod to the other boy, and they shouldered Harry, digging their elbows into his ribs, before they walked off.

Of course there'll be more when we get back. Another day of running and getting tackled and beat. Harry turned to the snake, rubbing his sides and deciding to wait one exhibit behind them. The sign identified it as a boa constrictor, and it was lazily sunning itself under the heat lamps.

"Sorry about them, they're rude to everyone. I don't think you're useless." Harry said. Empathizing with animals was easy, they were often treated like he was. "It's not nice having to put up with people like that all day I bet, I can barely do it myself."

The snake's eyelids shuttered and its head rose up. It coiled itself, bringing its head up to Harry's, staring at him. Harry's eyes widened, something felt different. Something felt magical.

"Can you, I mean, can you understand me?" he asked, feeling a tad foolish. He looked over one shoulder to make sure the Dursleys were out of earshot, but still close enough to be followed. He looked back to the snake, interest piqued.

"Yess, of course. You are a Speaker, it iss an honor to meet you," the snake said, its tongue rapidly flicking in and out.

"A Speaker? Like I can speak snake?"

"Yess, it iss called the Noble Tongue. I have never met someone like you before."

The snake sounded excited to Harry, who was unsure of what to think. He could talk to snakes! He knew it wouldn't come up often, but it was uniqueness like this that separated him from the Dursleys. That made him different. He gave a soft smile, "Well I guess we have a lot in common then, I've never met somebody like me either. Do you have a name?"

The snake moved its tail rapidly, as if gesturing to the question, "No, the feederss call me something but I do not understand them."

"Well, at least you get fed well, I'm sure that's nice," Harry said, thinking of his own aching stomach.

"Yess, it is not so bad. But I yearn for the hunt. To stalk and trap the prey that I choose."

Harry was about to respond when Dudley chose to make a reappearance, Piers running behind him. Dudley knocked Harry to the ground, and pressed himself right up against the glass as the boa now began to hiss wildly and uncoil itself, showing its true size.

"Mummy, Daddy, look! The snake is doing something now! Piers, check this out!" Dudley shouted. Piers was next to him, grinning and completely oblivious to the pain and shame Harry was feeling.

Another bloody moment ruined. Because of my stupid 'family', Harry raged hated referring to them as such, despite its truth. He was seething, his memory of the day ruined and tarnished by his cousin once again taking something from him. He turned to the snake, who was posturing angrily, and there, in that moment, he felt something within him begin to go away. A feeling of warmth and comfort that he hadn't noticed before, fading back into himself as if it were the tide ebbing after the flow. A feeling of power.

That's it! I'm feeling my magic, Harry thought didn't know what to do, but he tried to fill himself with the feeling, imagining it welling up within him. Just once I'd like Dudley to be in my position. The calmness he had built up throughout the day had vanished, and the magic within him surged.

Dudley abruptly fell forward into the enclosure, while Piers spun his arms and fell backwards. The glass had disappeared. A loud hiss escaped the snake's mouth and it slithered towards Dudley, who scrambled backwards until he fell into the water feature of the tank. Turning away, the constrictor slunk out onto the floor, turning to Harry.

"Thankss for the help Speaker."

Harry broke into laughter as the snake moved away, swinging its head and scaring off the other visitors as it made its escape. He looked at Dudley, who was now panicking and banging on the glass, now present again. Chaos was all around him, his aunt and uncle were dashing over to scream at their son, now trapped. Zoo attendants soon appeared, scratching their heads and apologizing to the Dursleys, while others went chasing down the snake. Uncle Vernon turned to Harry, grabbing him by the collar and hauling him up to reprimand. Harry looked him in the eye as spittle and insults landed on him, holding the power at bay even as he now felt it swell to react. Nothing happened, and Harry smiled even as he was dragged away. Maybe this day isn't as ruined as I thought.

Later that day, back home at 4 Privet Drive, Harry was curled up in his room, his cupboard under the stairs. Over 3 years of the dusty closet harboring him had made him used to it.

There was a shelf, filled with Dudley's old clothes that he was given, and a cot, lumpy and cold. He had pilfered a nice blanket away from Petunia, and it hid under the mattress until he was sure they were sleeping. He knew they'd take it away from him if they looked in and saw it. A lone light bulb, exposed and dangling from the ceiling, gave him light, and he often used it to read books he borrowed from the library. They were hidden under a loose floorboard, Uncle Vernon didn't like the freak bettering himself over Dudley so they too were a precious thing.

Harry lay on his back, thinking of the zoo. Of that feeling. It was the first time he had felt the magic within him. The first time he had controlled it. He smiled to himself, it all started with the snake. I can't believe I didn't notice it before, how could I miss that feeling, that rush.

Vernon had confined him to the cupboard for two weeks, only to be let out for the bathroom and to pick up his meager rations. A long stretch, a new record. Sighing, he turned to his side and looked at the blank wall. He scratched a rough dash in the corner by his head with a rusty nail pulled from the floorboard. "One down, thirteen to go," he whispered.

Dust fell down on him as his uncle stomped on the stairs above, "Turn that damned light out, boy! Or it'll be three weeks next!"

Harry turned off the light and sat back, thoughts too cluttered and mind too busy to sleep. His eyes appeared to glow in the darkness as he felt his magic within him. He had no parents, no friends, and was headed nowhere. He was well and truly alone. Alone, with his magic. I'll figure this out, Harry thought. I'll find a way to be a real wizard, like my parents. Be someone with power instead of one without. Then nobody can take things from me. Not rooms, not friends, not anything. I'll be better than the Dursleys, I'll be better than anyone who treats me like this.

Five Years Later

Harry Potter was excited, it was the final day of term and he'd finally get to go home. Well, back to No. 4 Privet Drive and the Dursley's. He was currently sitting in the back of the class, doodling in his notebook and thinking about his magic.

He had come a long way in two years, his magic now responded to him instantly, although he still couldn't control what exactly it did, with a few exceptions. He could talk to snakes at will, although he didn't like to do that unless he was positive he was alone. Uncle Vernon had caught him in the yard with a snake he had befriended, about a year ago, and forced Harry to watch inside as he beheaded it with a shovel. Harry didn't want to risk another friend being taken away from him. He had also noticed how his magic responded to his mind, allowing him to focus and multitask far more effectively than what he had thought possible. It was a calming presence, feeling his mind buzz with the feeling. Especially with all the strife he endured.

He glanced up at the clock, almost there, he thought. There was no point in actually paying attention, he had outpaced the curriculum ages ago. Not that St. Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys was a hallmark of education by any stretch of the imagination. The boarding school was more of a detention facility, but until you aged out as an adult they tried to give you somewhat of an education while rehabilitating the "troublesome qualities" that saw their students placed there. Personally, Harry had taken to learning on his own, it was much easier to steal books from the library during the summer or skip class and listen in on the upper class's lessons. His magic helped with that.

He had been enrolled the summer after 'the zoo incident' when things had escalated at home. Dudley had sought revenge and gotten his buddies to gang up against Harry, the chase had lead them throughout the neighborhood until Harry was pinned down in the park by Dudley, while the others laughed. Dudley, due to his weight or his ignorance, both very large, had pressed a little too hard and broken Harry's arm. Harry had reacted without thought, reaching for the magic he had newly discovered, and it burst forth. Dudley's gang had been blinded and their faces got burned, while Dudley was thrown backwards with his entire front scorched.

Harry's arm had been healed by the end of the week, while he was still in his cupboard, whereas Dudley had been taken to London where he stayed in the hospital for a month. Harry had been enrolled at St. Brutus's by the end of the week for "setting off a pipe bomb against upstanding young lads," Uncle Vernon claimed. To the community at large, it was nothing unexpected, they all knew 'that Potter boy' was nothing but trouble, it had only been a matter of time. Harry hated the place, even more than the Dursley's.

The only bright side was that he had outgrown the cupboard, and the Dursleys had begrudgingly given him Dudley's second bedroom for when he was home for the summer, although he was expected to stay out of their business and remain in his room or out of sight. Their hatred was now tinged with fear, and preferred him to interact with them as little as necessary.

A wad of paper hit Harry in the head and broke him out of his thoughts, he turned to face the thrower, who smirked at him and mouthed 'See you after class, Potter'. He sighed and ignored the boy. There were bullies here too, violent ones. Some days he tried to fight back, others he just ran, either way his magic would get him in trouble if he used it. They had to rescue him from atop the roof once, and that hadn't been a pleasant day. He almost preferred to get beat up, at least that was only physical pain.

He bent his head down and tuned out the class, relishing his magic as it took hold of his mind and silenced all around him. True peace was hard to find for Harry, but sometimes he felt like he achieved it. He filled his page with questions about his magic, experiments that he could try, doodles about all things he thought magical and interesting. There was nothing else in his life that he valued, nothing else that captivated him.

Today, he was going slower than usual, and felt sleep trying to take him. He hadn't gotten much rest the previous night, certainly not any of quality. He had the nightmare again. It was always the same one, and he never remembered many details clearly, even after focusing his mind. Just a bright green flash and a harsh, cackling laugh. Then he'd wake up, covered in sweat with his scar on fire and splitting his head. Sometimes he'd be crying. He tried to brush it off as he felt his eyelids closing, It's probably just my imagination. Everyone has nightmares, and I certainly have a life deserving of them.

He woke to the shouting of the teacher.

"Mr. Potter!"

He groggily looked up, the classroom was abandoned and the instructor was staring at him harshly, tapping her foot and crossing her arms.

"The counselor needs to see you before you're released for summer break, I suggest you hurry and not waste anymore of our time here."

He didn't respond verbally, he had learned to speak as little as possible unless it was required. Fewer problems that way, and he could figure anything out if he thought about it enough. He nodded and left, grabbing his things. Most of what he used here was property of the institution, a standard bag, clothes, etc. They didn't want anyone receiving 'special treatment' after all. He had managed to sneak the notebook in after the first year though.

The counselors office was nearby, just up some stairs and down a hallway but Harry walked slowly, no eager for yet another hour or so of being told how much a failure he was, how much a freak. The sessions were never productive, usually just scolding him for causing trouble with the others. The dull, draining lights combined with the plain walls did their job of removing all motivation from anyone inside the buildings, and he paused outside the doorway, wondering briefly if he could get away with just heading home for the summer. Probably not, and knowing Vernon he'd just find somewhere worse to send me if I get kicked out here. He walked into the office and the secretary turned to acknowledge him, a blank look on her face. Kept safe behind a glass enclosure she pressed a button underneath her desk, causing a loud buzzing sound, and motioned to the door on the wall opposite. "The doctor's been waiting for you Mr. Potter, hurry on in."

That's odd, Harry thought, She's usually more rude to me.

Harry shook his head and went through the door, taking a seat on the obviously faux-leather chair that he was so often tormented in. The doctor's office was quite large, rows of bookshelves lined the room and the back wall was dominated by a window that looked out over the grounds where they were allowed out for an hour each day. More often than not Harry had spied the man standing there watching them, judging them. Doctor Fowler was currently facing the window, or so Harry thought, there was a new chair behind the desk and its large back obscured his view of the man. A rather large and ornate chair that seemed far too comfy and plush for the man's tastes.

Harry coughed, "You wanted to see me Dr. Fowler?"

"Hm, yes he did, but I'm afraid I wanted to see you more, Mr. Potter."

The chair spun around and Harry stilled in shock, the man before him looked straight out of a picture book. He had rich purple robes, with golden stars adorning them and his matching hat, and a bushy white beard that extended below his belt. Half-moon spectacles rested on a crooked nose and twinkling blue eyes assessed him. The man extended a hand from across the desk, "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, it is an honor to formally meet you Mr. Potter."

Harry cautiously eyed the man, before shaking his hand. Is this some sort of test to see if I've cracked or something? "You're a doctor? Who are you?"

The man laughed and shook his head, "No no, not a doctor, although I certainly wish I was sometimes! No Harry, I am the Headmaster of the new school you will be attending."

"New school? Am I being kicked out?" A small amount of panic set into Harry, "Who are you really? Why are you dressed like that?"

The headmaster leaned back into the chair, "You're not being kicked out, but I think you would much rather attend my institution rather than this one once you've had time to think it over. Here, perhaps this will answer some questions of yours and I will endeavor to satisfy the rest." He reached into his robes and withdrew a thick letter handing it over to Harry. "Your official acceptance letter."

Harry took it, warily, and read the back.

Harry James Potter

The Ancient and Noble House of Potter

Not understanding the bottom line he flipped it over, there was a wax seal that held it shut, emblazoned with a dragon curling about a crest and the words 'Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.'

He looked up at the man, Witchcraft and Wizardry? Is this it? Am I finally not alone? A lifetime of disappointment tamed his thoughts from running wild, and he kept himself from feeling overwhelmed. There was little doubt in him, his magic had opened his mind to the impossible years ago. "That's what I can do then? There's more of me, of people like me?"

Dumbledore smiled, "I'm pleased to see you taking this well, some who are new to our world are rather… insistent that this is a mistake. Yes, what you can do is magic, and yes, there are more of us. A whole world in fact, and that is why I'm here. To reacquaint you with the wizarding world and prepare you for reentering it."

"Reenter it? I've never met anyone like me, or anything magical other than myself." Harry said sourly, he had tried over the years, but to no avail.

"I am well aware of your lack of knowledge when it concerns your own history, which is why I decided to make this visit personally, alas, this shall not be an easy, or even comfortable, tale to tell. Might you stand for a moment?"

Harry stood and Dumbledore withdrew a long wooden stick from within his sleeve, with a quick motion, the rather ugly chair he had been sitting on was quickly replaced with one that matched the headmaster's, albeit slightly smaller.

"Much better! Now, I'm sure you have a great many questions and I shall do my best to impart upon you a great many more answers, but why don't we start with me filling in the gaps for you and proceeding form there? Sound agreeable?"

Harry took a seat and nodded, content to let the other man do the talking for now.

"You are aware, of course, that you are not like the people around you? I'm assuming in the past 2, oh maybe 3, years you've been able to feel something inside of you, your magic?"

Harry nodded, "Ever since I was about 11."

The man's eyebrows rose and his face briefly flashed with something Harry didn't quite catch, "11 you say? Hm. Was there a specific trigger for your ability to feel it?"

Harry tensed, unsure if he would get in trouble for saying what happened. There was a pause and he felt something, before he shrugged it off and calmed his mind. The professor was staring at him intently now.

"Um, my family, they don't like magic sir. Not at all." Harry squirmed in his seat a little, the air seemed heavy, "So whenever something happened, they'd get mad and punish me, and that usually lead to more things happening. Anyways, we were at the zoo, and my cousin was being rude to this snake who was just trying to nap, well, he was also frustrated that he couldn't hunt anything, but anyway—"

"Pardon me, the snake was the frustrated one?" Dumbledore interjected, leaning forward now and his voice now with an edge to it.

Harry nodded, "Er, yeah. I was talking to it, you know, with my magic."

Dumbledore nodded slowly, going back to his previous position as he closed his eyes in thought, "Apologies, continue."

"Right, so while I was talking to it I noticed my magic, how it felt and what it was, and that was a turning point I guess. So, after my cousin uh, came back and started things with me, I made the glass disappear. I just kept holding onto that feeling for the next few weeks while I was, um, grounded, and ever since its helped me."

The professor didn't say anything, he just nodded mutely again. Harry was beginning to feel excited at finally being able to talk about it with someone though, and just a little nervous that he wasn't making a good impression on the first other wizard he met. His previous inhibitions towards people were vanishing at the thought of another magic user. "I can do more than that, if I need to for your school I mean, if there's like an entrance exam or something. I can make things happen when I get emotional, although I can't really control it, and I can use it on myself to calm down or think better when I get annoyed or stressed."

Dumbledore opened his eyes and a faint smile grew on his face, "I see. What do you do when you need to calm down or think better, as you put it?"

"I just focus on my magic and send it to my head, like sticking my head underwater except its my magic, " Harry shrugged, "Things slow down, I get more calm, I can tell what's going on, I think clearer. It helps at a place like this, and at home…" Harry trailed off, unsure of how much about his home life he should say.

"And what is your home life like Harry?" The professor asked, with some emotion in his tone.

"Um…"

"I can assure you that nothing you say here will be relayed to others and that I am asking only in your best interests."

Harry shrugged, and fidgeted in his chair. "It's not the best, but it's gotten better. It was good until my magic showed up, then it was really awful for awhile, and now its just…fine I guess. I'm here most of the year, although this place sucks too but they've been leaving me alone as long as I do the same. I don't spend much time in the house. I can usually get out and go into the town or the neighborhood for most of the day."

"I see. I think after we are done here I shall have a talk with your guardians."

Harry froze, "I don't think that would be smart, that'll only make it worse. Really, I don't need that, please. You don't get it, they're—"

Dumbledore waved him off, "I am familiar with this situation, and with your relatives, I will do what I can to remedy it. Your lack of response to our letters was enough to let me intervene, thankfully it seems. Now, back to more interesting matters. There has been an entire world absent from your life and the lives of everyone you've known. A world that you were born into, and shall soon be rejoining. A world of magic. Existing in tandem with the mundane one, our worlds are connected in some ways, but ultimately there is a great divide."

"Like an actual divide?" Harry asked. That's why I never met anyone else. I've been separated.

Dumbledore chuckled, "It is not quite so simple as that, and many would argue both sides of it. Yes, there are certainly portions of the world inaccessible to muggles, but we share most of the world. Back to what I was saying, we have hidden this way on and off for centuries, due primarily to our bloody past with not just our own ranks but also with muggles. In this act of protection and concealment, differences have formed entirely independent of the structures and societies you know now. You might never leave Britain, but the magical side is as different a country as you can imagine. Different foods, different cultures, and yet never entirely foreign."

It made sense to Harry, magical things for magical people. If only I knew this, I wouldn't have felt so alone. "It doesn't sound so different to me sir, I mean, strange in a way, but it makes sense. Like visiting another country."

Dumbledore nodded, "I'm glad you see it that way, for it is vital to grasp that facet despite the shared world and image we have with the mundane. For truly we have many similarities, even if we are set apart." The headmaster gestured towards the letter that still sat in Harry's hand, "We had been sending you acceptance letters, standard for all students enrolled at Hogwarts, but your aunt had been intercepting them. She displayed great effort in her misguided attempts to hide the truth of who you are, I'm afraid she did more harm than good in her efforts to protect you."

I've already been accepted? Harry thought before the anger towards his aunt rose overrode the curiosity."Protect me? Is that what's she's been doing? She knew about this? That I wasn't alone?"

The headmaster sighed with regret. "Yes, Petunia knew, ever since Lily got her own acceptance letter. Petunia's views towards magic are born of jealousy and spite, in her eyes keeping you from it was akin to making sure you never turned out like her sister. The sister she idolized, lost, and eventually despised due to their differences. I know it has not been easy for you. I know that nothing will ever be able to restore the life you've lived up to this point, I only hope you can find solace with the remainder."

"What else has Petunia been protecting me from? How do you know all this?"

Dumbledore's face fell, the wrinkled lines aging him far more past even his already ancient visage, "I visited your aunt long ago when you were first adopted, your situation at the time was rather…complicated and required oversight. As for what else there is, I was hoping to not start with a sad note, but there is no way about it, and you deserve the truth. There is a rather significant part of your family's history that was kept from you, and in this I'm not sure I can blame her. It involves your parents, and your legacy."

Harry felt his gut sink as the anger abated, worry creeping up instead.

"Your parents, James and Lily Potter, did not die as you thought, no mere car crash could ever take them. They were murdered."

"Murdered? What? Why? By who?" Harry asked, the words coming out slowly as anxiety gripped him. James. My father's name was James. Petunia had never called him a name even remotely nearing civility.

Dumbledore took off his glasses, wiping misty eyes before continuing. "A fact I must impress upon you Harry, is that for all our differences, for all that makes us magic and arcane, we are still human. We face similar problems as you've seen here, such as classism, bigotry…and war."

Harry stayed mute, his mind working overtime to keep his body from reacting. Even in the history classes he had bothered to sit through before bunking off those issues dominated the lessons. It was no surprise the magical world would parallel that.

"In the '70s there was a Dark Lord, a practitioner of the most vile magics, who rose to power under the cause of pureblood supremacy." At Harry's questioning look he elaborated, "Pureblood is a term used to refer to a person with all-magic heritage, while halfblood would be those with less. They're not problematic terms in and of themselves, but for some people it leads their thoughts to discrimination. To thinking that having muggle blood makes you weak, and that only those with full wizarding blood deserve to be in our world. An abhorrent ideology, it remains a stain upon our society even today. When this Dark Lord came to power he led a crusade here in Britain, among our own people. He hunted all those who defied him and those he thought impure, and even began terrorizing the muggles with his forces. At the height of his power, he was nigh unstoppable, and had even begun to make plans for the continent. Your parents were staunchly opposed to him and did much to counter his efforts, joining myself and others who stood against him. Then, on Samhain night, almost 13 years ago, he tracked them down in hiding. They died protecting you."

Samhain? Does he mean Halloween? He didn't much care about that, he was numb. He felt as if he had left his body and was watching this play out from someone else's perspective. Murdered…I think…I think I would've rather been with them, wherever that is. "Why not me? Why didn't he kill me too?" Harry asked, voice shaking.

A great look of sadness engulfed the headmaster's face. "He tried Harry. That scar upon your head is no ordinary cut. That night he cast a most evil spell, of that we can be certain, and struck you there. A spell that kills without cause and has never failed to do so in all of our illustrious recorded history. Yet that night, he tried to kill you with it and failed. You stopped the unstoppable. He vanished and has not been seen since. I'm afraid, truly, that far too many people saw this as a victory and your name has become synonymous with his downfall. You are a hero, a celebrity unlike any other, The-Boy-Who-Lived."

Harry stood up, ignoring the pity in the man's tone as his emotions ran haywire. "I'm famous? A hero? Because I lived and my parents died to some murderer? Because I lost my family!"

"Yes, I'm afraid so." Dumbledore couldn't bring himself to look Harry in the eye, his voice filled with regret. "Too many were happy to be rid of the fear that had consumed their lives to realize the lives it cost to end it. Too many were thrilled with the exceptional circumstance to look at the infant whose life it dearly dampened. It is a heavy burden, a true tragedy."

Harry fumed, "Did Petunia know that too? What else about my life don't I know?"

"Your aunt knew the truth of their deaths, but not of your status among us."

Rage and fear gripped Harry, he began pacing and running his hand through his hair as all he knew was washed away. My scar isn't a symbol of me being different than the Dursleys, it's proof that I am actually alone. That nobody sees me, only it and what is stands for. He couldn't look at the professor either. He tried not to scream at the injustice of it all. Petunia tried to protect me from this? From the truth? From knowing that I had a family that loved me, that died for me, and that I wasn't a freak? They were cruel for their own purposes, I could never turn out like them.

Harry couldn't handle his emotions, he tried focusing on his happy thoughts, his magic, like he always did when overwhelmed. The smallest amount of peace washed over him, before it was gone. The echoes of his nightmare rang in his mind, the blinding green light and a cackling laugh. It's not a nightmare. A chill ran down his spine. His chest tightened. It's a memory. "This Dark Lord, what was his name?"

"He called himself Lord Voldemort."

Voldemort. His scar twitched, a small amount of pain lancing through it at his inner turmoil, "You said he vanished, hasn't been seen since. Does that mean he's alive?"

"I believe so, although most others will swear otherwise."

"Why would they do that if he's still out there?"

Dumbledore looked defeated, "His body disappeared, the house was all but demolished, and we are certain nobody there when he attacked left the premises alive, other than you. I, however, know that as deep into the Dark Arts a man such as him was, death would not come so easy. Rather, I think he is weak, broken even, perhaps no longer human, and biding his time until he can return."

Harry returned to the chair. Voldemort. He's still alive, out there. The cackling laugh rebounded in his head. My parent's murderer. A flash of green light. Voldemort, the man who tried to kill me and condemned me to this hell. He tried to settle himself once again, his voice coming out cold and monotonous, "You said he was unstoppable. Does that mean he was the strongest? The best?"

Dumbledore turned back to Harry, "In his youth, he was a prodigy, but he made choices that led him down the wrong paths. It is said that he feared me, and I am rather skilled myself if you'll forgive my lack of modesty in the matter, but even I'll admit he was something else, something greater. Terrible, but great. Do not busy your mind with thoughts of Voldemort Harry, it is still merely my belief that he survives at this time, and one that I am constantly developing. I advise you not to speak of it."

Harry did no such thing, his mind latching on to the name and identity of the man who killed his family. Who stole his life away from him. Without him, I would've been happy. With my family. I'd have friends and never would've known the Dursleys. I'd never have suffered what I have here. Harry scowled. And he's still alive. The magic within him stirred, responding to his emotions and warming his body as he clamped down on the thought and steeled his resolve. If he made me famous for my parents dying then I'll become famous for what I do living. His mind settled, conviction embedding itself, fueled by the depravations in his life thus far. A prodigy? I'll be better, I'll be greater. I'll honor my parent's sacrifice and end him.

Dumbledore continued, oblivious to the machinations going on within Harry, "Now, back to the magical world. It is a topic I could discuss for days on end, and hopefully you and I will get to do that one day, but, in brief, you will have a lot of catching up and adapting to do. Many of us do not venture out into the muggle side of things, fear and prejudice are strong deterrents after all, but those that do usually don't draw attention to themselves. It is no surprise you have not met anyone, as most muggleborns have no way of knowing what they are until they enter our world. The differences might be shocking at first, but you will grow to accept them."

"Why do we hide? Why did we separate? If we didn't hide then I wouldn't have been called a—" Harry caught himself, calming his voice as he turned his attention back to the man, his voice still cold. "I, uh, things would've been better for me."

Dumbledore shook his head, "I know your plight Harry. Far too many muggleborns, or muggle-raised in your case, go through the same things. It is an issue some of us try to fix, but there is no clean solution and we are blocked by the people who hold to their discrimination. Just take yourself for example. We have laws in place protecting muggleborns from being…exploited shall we say, in their infancy and youth by those who hold to pureblood ideology. Before that was enacted the things done to children in your situation, and muggleborns too…" The headmaster blanched, his voice cracking as he spoke.

Harry frowned, "I'm not a child."

Dumbledore sighed, "I understand how you must feel, forgive me, but when one reaches 146 years the word tends to slip out amoung people your age."

Harry ogled the man, "146! How long do we live?"

"Oh, usually no more than 200, although there are a few exceptions, such as my friend Nicolas. Back to why we hide, it is for our own protection. History is the best teacher, and it has taught us time and time again that magic and the mundane simply do not mix. There have been 6 great declines in magical population due to our differences, excluding the bloody conflicts from when we were untied, and we simply can't afford cohabitation. It is better for everyone that it stays that way."

There was a comfortable silence before the headmaster spoke again. "Given your lack of education in the matter, I think it would be wise for me to tackle some general information about witches and wizards, as it might shed insight onto our differences." He nodded to himself, "Have you ever received an injury one day and noticed it gone the next? Or can you recall a time where you got sick? Perhaps there is some skill which you picked up almost immediately?"

"I don't recall ever being sick…and yea, I have noticed that happen, with the broken arm and some other things. That's my magic?" Harry said.

Dumbledore nodded, "Precisely, it is in you and throughout you and provides protection for a lot of what our worlds have to offer. As such, many things muggles place high concern on, such as broken bones or even a severed limb, are just minor annoyances to us. However, do not take this to mean you are better or impervious by any means, we have our own issues that plague us. Spells and curses that are devilishly hard to undo, diseases we have no magical cure for, beasts even I would rather stay away from." Dumbledore continued.

Harry nodded, taking the information in. It made sense, he should've been far more hurt whenever Dudley and the other beat him up given their size and strength. "So, when does this school start? You said I'm already accepted but I doubt my relatives will pay for it, how's this going to work?"

The headmaster relaxed, his features softening once again with a warm smile, "There is no need to worry Harry, once you turn 16, that is to say when you are about to start your formal magical schooling, you will be allowed access to your family's inheritance. Well, at least enough of it to get by."

"Family inheritance, sir?"

"Indeed Harry, the Potters are quite old and they didn't leave you with nothing. Sadly, or perhaps fortunately, your relatives were unable to access it, even for your own care, since they are muggles." He reached a hand deep into one of the pockets within his robe, his arm disappearing up to the elbow as he spoke, "As you are muggle-raised, I shall be taking the time to personally escort you around our world for the rest of the day so that you may get your bearings. Ah, here it is." The man withdrew a small key, golden and ornate, before handing it to Harry.

There's a crest on it. "What does it open?"

Dumbledore rose from his seat, and motioned Harry to do the same, as he answered. "And that brings us to the next matter of the day."

Moving with a grace Harry wouldn't have attributed to the old man, the headmaster withdrew his wand and did several motions Harry couldn't follow in an elaborate spin. The chairs turned back to the dull ones of the office and Harry was brought towards the professor by an invisible force as a guiding hand grasped firmly onto his shoulder. He only had time to look up to the madly grinning headmaster before there was a soft pop, and they vanished. The world twisted.

AN: A bit shorter than what I'm aiming for (only ~9.2k instead of 10k) but these first chapters are just a warm up. After all, we all know that Harry's story only really begins when he gets to Hogwarts, so the rest of the prologue will drop soon enough and then we'll go from there!