The first chapter of the first book. Read, review, and feel free to point out any errors/inconsistencies.
Please note that minor edits have been made to the prologue (previous chapter). If you read it prior to June 5th, 2022, the contents are slightly different.
The next chapter will be published the coming Saturday.
Harry Potter: A Flaw in Fate
The Serpentine Stone
I. Diagon Alley
"- got yer wand, what else we ought to buy?" said Hagrid.
"Books, I think." answered Harry, hastily taking a lick from the ice cream Hagrid had bought him, "But there might be something I've forgotten."
Harry set his ice cream down on the table before him, taking a moment to observe the glorious world that surrounded him.
"One gryphon's claw for a quarter of a thousand galleons?" muttered a rather old man as he stormed out of one of the many shops, "Barking mad, the whole lot of them . . ."
To the side of the shop were a number of children, all of whom appeared to be Harry's age. Each and every one of them had their noses pressed against the glass, staring at what appeared to be a broomstick with wide eyes.
"Look at that!" Harry heard one of them say, "The new Nimbus Two Thousand - fastest ever, my brother told me!"
Even as the sun prepared to make way for the night, Diagon Alley was filled with life.
It was the late afternoon of July thirty-first, 1991 - his eleventh birthday, coincidentally. This one was easily his favourite. Harry couldn't recall ever being allowed to go somewhere so nice, especially not on a day as special as his birthday.
It was certainly a change of pace - one that Harry was quite grateful for, even if he would have to return to Privet Drive in a few short hours.
It'll only be for a month. After that, I'm free.
"Off to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Harry muttered to himself. A soft smile grew upon his features.
It was, without a doubt, the best birthday present ever.
"Got yer stuff?" asked Hagrid a quarter of an hour later.
Harry nodded, motioning towards the trunk that sat upon the floor beside him. He had already packed most of his new belongings into the trunk, having found no other way to easily transport them. The only exceptions were Hedwig and his wand. The former was resting peacefully within her cage, and the latter was tucked neatly into the pocket of Harry's oversized jeans.
Harry's hand subconsciously rubbed against the pocket within which remained his wand. The wand was quite fascinating, in his opinion - an opinion that seemed to be shared by the man who had given it to him, Mr. Ollivander.
Even if it is the twin wand of Lady Voldemort.
"Hagrid?" began Harry as the two made their way down towards Flourish and Blotts, the resident bookstore of Diagon Alley, "What was she like? Vol - sorry, You-Know-Who?"
Hagrid flinched slightly.
"No one knows, I reckon." the half-giant answered truthfully, "But I can't imagine she was one 'o the good ones."
"I figured." Harry replied quietly, ignoring the concerned glance Hagrid sent his way.
Flourish and Blotts was a rather large shop just opposite Madam Malkin's. Even from the outside, Harry could tell that the place was filled to the brim with books of all sorts. It reminded Harry of a library to some extent, albeit one where the books might be the ones to quiet you down rather than the librarians.
"Right." began Hagrid, pulling out a thin piece of parchment from his large coat and handing it to Harry, "Yer book list. An' don' go pickin up all the books yeh see, alright? Best not ter mess with magic yeh don' yet understand."
Harry took the list from Hagrid's outstretched hand, reading over it as he made his way into the shop.
'COURSE BOOKS
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble'
Just as Harry expected, the shop was flooded with books - and people, despite the time of day. Most of them, Harry noticed, were children around his age. They were all accompanied by their respective mothers and fathers, all of whom were frantically running after their children as they explored the magical shop. A few were even accompanied by brothers and sisters, both older and younger.
Harry frowned slightly, turning away to look for the books in question. He was almost upset by how quickly he found them; he had wanted an excuse to look around the bookstore longer. Unfortunately for him, the shopkeeper had rather conveniently kept all the first year textbooks in the same area.
"Just a bit longer?" Harry pleaded a few minutes later, "Just a quick look around, that's it. I'll be out in five."
"Oh, alright." said Hagrid with a sigh, "We still ought ter get some proper food, mind yeh. That ice cream won' last fer long."
Harry nodded before retreating back into the shop. He had always found books to be interesting, though perhaps not by choice; books were the only objects within the house that Dudley would not hoard, after all. These books, however, piqued his curiosity far more than those that dwelled within number four, Privet Drive.
The pictures within the Dursley's books did not move, nor did they depict things as beautiful and bizarre as those within the magical world did. The books were not particularly interesting, nor were they in such pristine condition as those that sat on the countless shelves of Flourish and Blotts.
But more than all of that, the books within number four, Privet Drive, were not magical.
Those books could not tell him how to turn one thing into another. Those books could not show him how to cure lethal diseases as though they were but a common cold. Those books could not teach him how to change the world around him with a mere flick of his wand.
These books, however - these books could.
Harry made his way towards the back of the shop, allowing himself to glimpse the titles of the many books he found. They were all far more fascinating than those by the front, and were, in turn, far more peculiar.
"'Obscure Magicks'." Harry read aloud as he slowly continued further down the aisle, "Runes of Ancient Egypt'. 'Warding, Shields, and other Defensive Magic' -"
"Something catch your eye?"
Harry jumped in alarm, turning to find a familiar looking old man - the shop owner. He had a kind smile, his hair white and his eyes a light blue. Within his arms was an old cardboard box, labeled 'Slughorn'.
"Not really." answered Harry, "I was just looking around."
The man's smile grew even larger.
"It's nice to see children so curious, you know?" asked the man, walking towards the front of the shop with Harry now accompanying him, "It's why I work here, after all."
Harry nodded slowly, his eyes eventually falling upon the box within the man's arms.
"'Slughorn'?" inquired Harry curiously.
"An old professor at Hogwarts." explained the man, "Gave this box to me nearly a decade ago, supposed to be all the extra textbooks and supplies he found lying around in his office. He was retiring."
Harry watched with curiosity as the elderly man set the box down, opening it gently. The cardboard box was filled with a number of textbooks, almost all of which seemed to be related to Potions in one way or another. Near the bottom sat a few aged quills, a bottle of ink, and what appeared to be an old notebook.
"As I expected." said the man with a nod of his head, "Books."
The shop owner hastily took the objects out of the box, setting them down on the floor beside him.
"Shall we take a look?" asked the man with a kind smile.
Harry nodded, gently plucking one of the textbooks up from the floor.
"'Advanced Potion-Making'." Harry read aloud, flipping through the first few pages. The book was almost completely covered by notes of the previous owner, but Harry didn't mind. His eyes widened as he read through the potion recipes present within the textbook.
There are truth potions? And ones that make you lucky?
The man beside him chuckled, gently setting down a few of the textbooks.
"Tell you what," said the man, "You take a look at these. You're more than free to keep them, if you'd like."
"I can?" questioned Harry, his jaw hanging loosely open, "But couldn't you sell them?"
"Nope." said the man, picking up a book labeled 'A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration'. The cover was extremely worn out, as were those on all of the remaining books, "Don't have the proper license. We can't sell second-hand books, especially not ones made nearly a century ago. The ministry won't allow it."
"Th-thanks." stuttered Harry, taking the book from the man and placing it atop the defaced copy of 'Advanced Potion-Making'. Smiling happily, Harry looked through the books with far more fervor than he had moments before.
'Confronting the Faceless'. 'The Standard Book of Spells Year 6'. 'Advanced Rune Translation'. Wait, what's this?
Harry carefully picked up the notebook he had seen lying at the bottom of the box. It was just as worn out as the books, its pages yellowing slightly and its cover wrinkled. Harry curiously opened it, taking a look inside.
The notebook was filled with notes, written in handwriting far neater than anything Harry could have managed. What most of it pertained to, Harry wasn't really sure - but the small portions he could work out intrigued him quite a bit.
Harry closed the notebook, carefully adding it to the stack of books he had already piled up before returning his attention to the remaining books.
"Now don't go trying everything you see in there, alright?" the shop owner warned him a few minutes later, "Not until you're sure you're ready, understood?"
Harry nodded, thanking the man once more.
"Not a problem." said the man kindly, "Like I said, it's always nice to meet a curious student. Run along now - there's much more to Diagon Alley than a bookshop!"
Harry smiled back, making his way out of the shop.
-(xXx)-
It had taken quite some time for Harry to convince Hagrid that he wouldn't try any of the spells within the advanced textbooks, but, somehow, he managed it in the end. It was for that reason that Harry had happily made his way back to number four, Privet Drive, his trunk in his left arm and Hedwig's cage in the right.
That happiness, however, was quickly fading away.
The euphoria Harry had felt upon discovering magic had not vanished - far from it, in fact; it had only grown. Harry had spent the majority of his free time pouring over his textbooks, trying to learn as much as he could about magic.
The fact remained, however, that Harry was not allowed to use magic. Had it not been for Hedwig, his trunk, and the countless textbooks that resided within it, Harry might have written it off as nothing but a pleasant dream.
Still, there was much to be gained from merely reading the textbooks - enough to keep Harry entertained for the better part of each day, something which the young boy found solace in. It was a good thing he did, Harry quickly realised. Had he not, he may have not known how to enter Platform Nine and Three Quarters (something he had read in 'Hogwarts: A History'). Harry winced as he imagined himself desperately trying to find a way onto the platform. It was not a pleasant sight.
I'd probably end up missing the train.
Harry sighed, setting down his battered copy of 'Confronting the Faceless' and getting up from his bed - one that, despite being gifted to him by the Dursleys a mere month ago, he was not particularly fond of. It was rather uncomfortable, and there was a slight tear in the mattress, too.
Beats the cupboard, mind you.
Harry slowly made his way down to the kitchen, making sure to keep quiet all the while. It had been unusually nice, staying with the Dursleys for the last week and a half. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, it seemed, had both agreed to ignore Harry for the remainder of his time with them. Harry was more than fine with that; it made it easier for him to read through the books he had been gifted.
Harry paused at the foot of the stairs, trying and failing to catch his Uncle's eye. The plump man sat within an armchair by the television, watching as a besuited man drawled on about the weather.
Uncle Vernon was a large, beefy man who was the director at Grunnings, a company that made and sold drills. He had a rather large mustache, and often spent most of his time out of work in front of the tele or with his wife, Harry's Aunt Petunia. He was a rather unpleasant man, in Harry's opinion. Harry rarely spent much time in the man's presence; he would almost always insist that Harry run along to do a chore he had long since completed - not that it mattered to Uncle Vernon.
"Er - Uncle Vernon?"
"Hmm?" replied the man, not taking his beady eyes off the television.
"I was wondering if you could take me to King's Cross in a few weeks." said Harry, "You know, so I can get to school."
Uncle Vernon didn't respond.
"Would it be fine if you gave me a lift? I'll have to be there on September First."
Uncle Vernon grunted in response before grabbing the remote to increase the volume.
"Er - thanks."
Harry slowly made his way back up the stairs, thanking anyone who might be listening for the fair fortune he had been gifted.
It'll be because of Dudley. They'll have to drive up to London to get that tail removed.
Harry chuckled quietly, returning to his room and falling upon his bed. He hastily shoved a few of the books off the bed and onto the floor, pausing as his eyes landed upon the final one.
It was the old notebook he had found within Flourish and Blotts. Harry quickly turned off the lights within his room, grabbed a torch he had hidden beneath the loose floorboard, and crawled under the sheets as he began to read.
The notebook was unlike any of the other magical books Harry possessed, and, in his opinion, far more interesting. It was, as far as he could tell, the notes of a student who had previously attended Hogwarts - at least at first glance.
Upon delving deeper, Harry had found the notebook to be far more than that. Incantations of all sorts were scrawled upon each of the pages, all of them accompanied by a brief description of whatever it was that they did. Several pages of in-depth explanations on magical arts Harry didn't even know existed could be found, as could a number of pages devoted to the owner's thoughts on the aforementioned arts.
It'll take me years to understand it all.
That was alright with Harry. Despite the majority of its contents being far above his current level, the notes within the books were still very interesting. It was more than enough to preserve his interest.
Harry gently opened the notebook to its second page and began to read.
'The Levitation Charm is, according to most, one of the simplest charms to both teach and learn. A simple incantation ("Wingardium Leviosa!"), along with a flourish of the wand, and levitation of the desired object is easily obtained.
This method, while sufficient for smaller objects, will do next to nothing against objects of a larger size or weight.
Visualization, I am beginning to realise, is a very important aspect of magic, particularly for those branches of magic that require the use of the wand. For example, one might find the Levitation Charm is much easier to accomplish if they were to simply visualize their desired object levitating.
The incantation and the wand movement are simply universal ways of inflicting one's will upon whatever they desire. Much like words in a language, incantations are mentally linked to a certain meaning or action. Visualization, however, is much more in-depth and detailed than the aforementioned duo. It is, in turn, far more precise with what it can accomplish.'
Harry curiously turned to his bedside table, pulling his wand out from the topmost drawer before pausing in annoyance.
I can't use magic outside of school, can I?
Harry set his wand upon the table once more, slowly turning back to the notebook.
It would have been interesting to see whether the notebook's owner was right in their assessment - as Harry thought they would be - but it was far from a good idea. The Ministry could track underage magic, Harry had learnt so upon reading 'Hogwarts: A History'.
Harry sulked as he thought back to the passage in question.
'The Ministry of Magic, however, is more than capable of tracking the fair majority of magic. Anything with a wand, to be specific.'
It was something Harry rather disliked, but there was nothing he could do about it. Harry returned to the notebook, pursuing through its contents once more.
Wait a moment.
Harry eagerly flipped through the notebook, his eyes scanning the top of each passing page. The most brilliant thought had occurred to him, a thought which Harry desperately hoped was not formed in vain.
"Come on, there's got to be something - you're kidding!"
Harry groaned as he set the book down. The page he had been looking for was indeed present, although the notebook's owner had not bothered to write anything upon it.
They must've been good enough at it that there wasn't a point in writing anything.
The page titled 'Wandless Magic' stared tauntingly up at Harry, though he paid it no mind.
It was clear to Harry that he wouldn't be able to learn much about the art in question from the notebook's contents. What the notebook's contents had told him, however, was that wandless magic, at the very least, existed. It was, at the very least, possible.
Unless the page is blank because it isn't possible.
Harry lethargically placed the notebook and the torch upon his bedside table before snatching the former up once more. Harry curiously opened it to the first page, taking the torch to provide him with a bit of light.
Scrawled upon the top left corner of the inside cover sat the name 'Emily'.
-(xXx)-
"Come on, get up already!"
Harry's determination slowly faded away as the quill remained steadily in place. The boy groaned once more, falling back onto his bed with an irritated sigh.
It was August twenty-eighth, and, as such, Harry's departure from the Dursley's was rapidly approaching. Harry was looking forward to it, though his lack of success in his current endeavour had him a bit preoccupied at the moment.
Why won't it move?
Harry stared at the quill (which he had removed from his trunk several hours prior), silently wondering why he couldn't levitate it so much as an inch. He had tried everything he could think of: he had visualized the effects, he had whispered the incantation (and yelled it, though that had not done much either), and had even waved his hand in a pattern similar to the appropriate wand motion.
Yet the quill still remained unmoving upon the floor.
Harry rolled over, plucking Emily's Notebook (as he had now begun to call it) from the pile of books that covered the floor beside Harry's bed. He idly flipped past several pages before finally finding the passage he desired.
'Whilst young, most magics will be out of one's reach, regardless of how powerful they may or may not be. Even magic needs time to grow and mature; it will not be capable of astonishing feats simply because one wishes it so. There are, however, a number of different methods that can make spellcasting easier for young children. Many of these methods, one might note, are methods commonly employed even by adults.
Wand motion and incantation are both well-known examples of such methods. They are not at all a necessity for successful spellcasting, though they do make spellcasting significantly easier.
Visualization is another, although it is not nearly as well-known as the aforementioned pair. Its ability to simplify spellcasting is on par with the pair, as far as I know. It is not something I have yet looked into, although I intend to rectify that.
The last method capable of being used to simply spellcasting is emotion. This, however, is even less known than visualization. Whilst weak emotions barely ease the spellcasting, intense ones will simplify the process far more than any of the other aforementioned methods.'
"I've tried all of those." muttered Harry, slightly confused, "I don't understand, what am I missing?"
Harry turned the page and continued to read.
'The most important of all, however, is that one must be sufficiently determined. A witch or wizard must properly impart their will upon their magic, lest they wish for the spell to fail. A lack of true, proper determination will always cause the spell to fail, regardless of anything and everything else.'
Harry straightened up, dropping the notebook onto his bedside table and hastily turning back to the quill.
But I was determined at the start, wasn't I?
The vague image of himself shouting at an unmoving quill flashed before the eye of his mind. Harry cringed.
He had most certainly not been paying the fullest attention during his many attempts. Personally, he thought it was quite understandable - several hours worth of attempts had made it rather difficult for him to focus on just about anything, let alone the quill that lay before him.
Harry closed his eyes, extending his arm out carefully towards the quill. A feathery white quill floated within his mind like leaves in the breeze.
Up. Get up, now.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry whispered, slashing his right arm through the air.
The quill barely moved a centimeter off the ground before falling back, twitching slightly.
Harry smiled.
-(xXx)-
"Ruddy motorcyclists!" roared Uncle Vernon as he yanked the steering wheel to the left, just barely switching lanes in time.
Harry looked up from his book, titled 'Magical Families of the Modern Era'. It was the morning of September first, about two hours before the Hogwarts Express was set to depart. He and Dudley were seated in the back of the car, the latter sitting with his back pressed against the window in an attempt to evade the former. Even a month after meeting Hagrid, Dudley was still deathly afraid of anyone capable of using magic.
If I had a pig's tail, I probably would be, too.
Harry shook his head, returning his attention to the book in his hands. It was a rather interesting tome, one that Hagrid had permitted him to purchase, regardless of it not being on the list of books needed for school. It held a large sum of knowledge within it, though Harry did not particularly care about the fame and wealth of the Blacks, nor the tragedies that had struck the Gaunts.
Harry instead re-read the section on the Potter family for the fourth time, gently allowing the words to wash over him. It was rather comforting, in Harry's opinion.
I can learn more about them at Hogwarts. That'll be nice.
Harry silently closed the book, carefully switching it for his copy of 'Hogwarts: A History', which had previously sat upon his lap. He stared blankly at the words before him, thinking back to the events of the past few days.
Harry had not made much progress with wandless magic since his first success, having only been able to replicate the feat a few times more. It only worked, Harry noted, when he truly wanted something to happen. Anything less, and he would accomplish all but nothing.
I can ask about it when I get to Hogwarts. Maybe the professors will know something more about it.
According to the book that sat serenely within the palms of his hands, there was a fair chance of that. The Hogwarts Professors were said to be amongst the best in the wizarding world - if anyone knew, it would likely be them.
"Right." said Uncle Vernon, hastily parking his car on the side of the road, "We're here, now get a move on."
Harry quickly opened the car door, following after his uncle (who had already found a trolley). Harry allowed his uncle to load the trunk for him before the pair set off for the platform, accompanied by Aunt Petunia and Dudley.
Why's he being so nice?
"Here you are." said Uncle Vernon nastily several minutes later, "Platform nine to the left, platform ten to the right. I suppose your platform ought to be somewhere in the middle."
And there's my answer.
Harry took the trolley from Uncle Vernon, quickly placing Hedwig's cage more comfortably upon his trunk.
"Have a lovely term," said Uncle Vernon with a smug smile. Harry watched the Dursleys make their way back to the car, laughing all the while. Once Vernon's company car had zoomed out of sight, Harry turned his attention to the wall on his left.
Please tell me that 'Hogwarts: A History' isn't outdated.
The unpleasant image of the Dursleys laughing as Harry ran headlong into the barrier suddenly swam into view.
Harry took in a deep breath, closed his eyes, and ran headlong into the barrier dividing platforms nine and ten.