Prologue


I hope you didn't choose this story because you think you know the tale of Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived. If you did, then I am sorry to disappoint you; this is not that tale.

The Harry Potter series published by J.K Rowling takes the essence of true events. In fact, the first four books are perfectly accurate. She could not, however, tell the true story. The world was not ready for it. Perhaps it is still not ready for it. In her cannon, Harry Potter is about a boy's struggles to become a man as he breaks the chains of soul that bound him to an evil forged by the darkest hearts of humanity. Good triumphed over evil, war came, lives were lost, and at last peace was achieved. A boy had fantastical adventures that morphed into violence. In Rowling's version of events, Harry Potter married into his ideal family, became an auror, had children with the woman he loved in school. This is not the true story. Rowling did her best, but she was not allowed to share what became of the magical society that is so beloved to this day. So allow me to rewrite these lies, first by explaining why you were lied to.

First and foremost, J.K. Rowling is a squib. Don't ask her about it, she won't tell you the truth (unless you are a witch or wizard). She lived amongst other magical folk until the events of the Triwizard Tournament's Final Task. As you can well imagine, she took Headmaster Dumbledore's warnings of Voldemort's resurrection to heart and quickly fled to the Muggle world she knew. When she began writing the books you know, she was as faithful as she could be. Squibs can hold few jobs that do not require magic, but she taught Muggle Studies at Hogwarts. She was there when Harry Potter was there, and a possessed Quirrel. Supposedly she kept clips of the school newspaper and magazines, which our poor hero did not know often stalked him to fluff the content of their names. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire was released, and it was safe to go back. She returned, and learned of what actually happened after the resurrection of the Dark Lord. Rowling could not publish what she found. Not because of the Statute of Secrecy—her books were already considered works of fiction by muggle and magical readers alike. But because she knew that, in 2005, the world was not ready to know. I believe that now is the time to share what she did not print.

This story doesn't begin with the events of Halloween, 1981, nor with Harry Potter's birth. It doesn't begin with a prophecy overheard by a spy, or Tom Riddle's Reign of Terror, or even the atrocities of Grindelwald. In fact, this entire story I am about to share with you doesn't just concern the lives of all the 'characters' you read about in a squib's book. It concerns all of humanity, and as such, this story begins in the first cradles of civilization, thousands of years ago, when our ancestors understood how to read the heavens.

Magical folk long ago accepted that our fates are written in the stars. How our ancestors unraveled the secrets of the universe is unknown, and we all mourn the days as priests and priestesses who looked upon the night sky and knew—if our fates can be read in celestial bodies long ago set into motion by the forces of gravity and energy, then each person has purpose. Technically speaking, then our story begins with the birth of the universe, and its expanse, slow and purposeful, creating life. From tiny microbes to autotrophs to homo sapiens to, at last, Ancient Egypt, where a class of priests hailing from the distant lands of Sumer settled near the famous Nile River. They created a new order, and their purpose was to translate their masterpiece: The One Prophecy. They were not the first nor only people to record this peculiar prophecy. Across the world, in every culture, there are grains of this One Prophecy, as it is called. It usually appears as origin stories of creation, of people, of humanity. The Ancient Egyptians had their own version, but the priests of this new order ignored it. They knew when they transcribed the whispers of the heavens that they had the most complete, most accurate recording that ever—and would ever—exist. The order also recognized that this was no explanation for the ways of the world, not the words of gods to their people in order to educate them on how they came to be. They understood that it was a prophecy of events yet to come true.

The priests guarded this secret diligently, determined to be the ones to guide it into fruition no matter the time, the risks, or the prices that they would pay. When the ways of Ancient Egypt declined and the priesthood dwindled to a single priest and his family, they remained faithful to their duty. Through the burning of Alexandria, through the Crusades, and the Plague, and the Inquisition; they survived, escaped, took refuge, did whatever it took in order to guard the One Prophecy. Through King George's reign, and the industrial revolution, through the World War I and II, they continued to protect the family book. It was a tome carefully rewritten throughout the ages, hidden and cared for. This family stood guard not only to protect the words of the prophecy, but also to look for the first signs.

Unfortunately, even they began to succumb to time. Pride came to the main line of descendants, and they kept their secret so tightly that few beyond the walls of their home ever had the chance to know it. Then suddenly an heir came, unlike any of the others; he would be the last. The last heir cast away his duty, and left the aging members of his family. One by one, they died, their legacy ending with them, and the One Prophecy was left forgotten in the bowels of their home.

The last heir could never fully forget what he'd been raised to know, however. When the signs started to appear, he couldn't ignore them. He wanted to deny it, to claim that he had never believed his family's purpose. Yet he already understood that prophecy was in his blood, and he knew (he had always known it, even when he wanted to deny it) that the One Prophecy was upon them.

"When the Prophecy rings throughout the world,

Like the ring of metal smote upon the forge,

Then the gods shall walk among us."