Before I get onto the next sample chapter of Shadow Games and Philosopher's Stones, I'd like to make a few announcements. Having managed to get some more writing of my non-fanfic stories done, I can safely say that I may very well be doing a decent update around Christmas. I will begin posting a list on my profile of stories that will be updated, though the only story (as of writing this: things will change closer to Christmas) with a completed chapter is my Fate/Zero/Thor crossover Light the Blue Touch Paper and Run Like Hell. Yes, I took the name from my Harry Potter/Fate/Stay Night crossover posted here. Give it a whirl if you want to see Loki teaming up with Medea to piss people off in the Fourth Grail War, as the first four chapters have been posted. That being said, the Christmas update won't be extremely huge unless I get lucky: I still want to work on my non-fanfic stories, and motivation and inspiration is lacking a little. I also finally took the plunge on reading Homestuck. Blame my playing Undertale, which I want to do at least one fanfic for (aside from Dum Spiro Spero, a oneshot crossover with FEAR that I did for Halloween, plug, plug): I know that Toby Fox did a version of Megalovania for Homestuck, and I had heard quite a bit about the series before Undertale was released...

That being said, I hadn't completed the first (numbered rather than prologue) chapter of Shadow Games and Philosopher's Stones when I posted the prologue. Having gotten a good response, I went back, found that the chapter was pretty much nearly finished, so I went and did so. It may never become a full fic, but I hope you enjoy what's there. The emphasis in this chapter is more on Petunia and Harry than it is on Shadow/Yami, and is pretty much going through the stations of canon here.

SHADOW GAMES AND PHILOSOPHER'S STONES

CHAPTER 1:

DEPARTURE

Petunia Evans knew that this day would come for a long time. She remembered when Lily got her letter, and the pangs of envy and jealousy that she had felt towards her younger sister. She had always felt that way, as Lily was more pretty and more intelligent and more popular and more…moreness. It was only now, ten years after Lily's death, that Petunia was able to make her peace with that, if only because she had to be the mother Lily could never be.

Not that Harry called her mother. He called her Aunt Petunia, but it was so filled with love, she found herself not caring. She found herself wondering whether she would have gotten such love out of Dudley. Even now, she wasn't so sure, and she had brought him into the world. But Vernon had taken him away from her, because she had dared to defy him, thanks to Solomon.

In a perverse way, she had won something that Lily hadn't had for as long as Petunia: Harry's love. True, Harry did love his mother, even though she was dead for a decade, but she wasn't around to see it. And Petunia didn't want to crow about that, anyway. The death of Lily now held a bitter taste in her mouth, where once it had tasted as sweet as honey, an irony not lost on her.

And now, she was seeing her son off to Hogwarts. Maybe things might get better. The poor boy had few friends his age: Dudley had scared just about anyone who wanted to be Harry's friend away, and after Dudley and his father had been found, insane and giggling while cavorting in piles of leaves and trash, the rumours spread by Dudley took on a life of their own. Kids took to avoiding Harry, believing that he had something to do with it.

And according to Solomon, they were right.

Petunia had never liked the Millennium Puzzle, and to learn that there was a dormant spirit within, capable of possessing Harry…she was frightened, even horrified. However, the spirit, Shadow, did once speak to her, taking over Harry's body. She was still highly disturbed, and her wariness never went away. But…she could at least accept that this entity was protective of Harry, and of his family.

His family. He had accepted her as his family, and in a good way. She had feared it wouldn't be the case, especially after, not long before Dudley's attempted extortion, she had revealed to him the truth about his parents. Her lies had been ones of omission: she had told him that they had been murdered by a terrorist targeting them, who ended up killed himself. But after he accidentally turned his teacher's wig blue, and then ended up on the roof of the school when Dudley and his gang pursued him…well, she had to tell him the truth.

Lily, and her husband, that obnoxious James Potter, were capable of magic, as was Harry. Unfortunately, they had also defied a rather powerful and evil wizard, the Dark Lord Voldemort, who was, effectively, the magical equivalent of a terrorist, murdering those who defied him, as well as non-magical folk (she hated that term 'Muggle', so patronising) and wizards born of non-magical folk…like Lily was. Voldemort had somehow tracked them down and murdered them, but Harry somehow managed to avoid being killed. Instead, the Killing Curse, Avada Kedavra, rebounded, leaving Voldemort dead, and Harry scarred.

Petunia remembered how perversely elated she had felt when she learned that Lily was dead. That elation was marred, because the explanation was in a letter, written by Professor Dumbledore, attached to an infant Harry, left at her door. She was told that she had to look after him, for her sister, supposedly, had erected some sort of magic, fuelled by her sacrifice, that only a relative could maintain, even if they weren't magical.

Petunia, as a form of revenge against her oh-so-better sister, had plotted to make the boy into a servant, and to use what monies promised by Dumbledore and that they could get from the government to enhance their lifestyle. But there was that dinner that Vernon nearly prevented her from going to, where she met Solomon Muto for the first time in years.

The two had met before briefly, before Petunia courted Vernon Dursley, at one of Lily's gatherings. Solomon had been invited by Dumbledore to talk to Petunia, who was on the verge of going to university. Solomon turned out to be a Squib, a person born to magical parents, but incapable of using magic, though they could use magic items, see magical creatures, and even mix potions. Solomon was apparently an archaeologist of some repute, despite being in his thirties. Petunia had found him interesting and charming, but she couldn't help but shake the feeling that the old goat Dumbledore had deliberately pushed Solomon into her path, as an apology to not admitting her to Hogwarts.

And then, when they met again…something started that culminated in this day. And despite the acrimonious circumstances under which she left Vernon Dursley, where he discarded Harry with her while taking her own flesh and blood away from her…she felt that this was a better life. Solomon had understood her bitterness at never being able to go to Hogwarts. "But just because you yourself have no magic, doesn't mean you should discard it from your life completely," he had said.

She had remarked, sarcastically, that he was getting to be like his Biblical namesake.

And now, she was standing on Platform 9 ¾ at King's Cross, watching as Harry waved to her from a window on the train, the Millennium Puzzle hanging from around his neck. It was a bittersweet moment. Solomon had been right: it was a mistake to get rid of magic from one's life. But she also knew that he'd be in danger. Harry Potter was famous, after all. And there were those who might want revenge on him for the part he played, albeit inadvertently, in the downfall of their master.

She only hoped that Dumbledore would keep him safe, as much as she and Solomon had tried to over the years. And failing that, there was always Shadow…

"You seem nervous, Harry."

Shadow's deep voice used to scare Harry. Now, it was a comfort, a balm for him. "Well, of course I am. New school, and for magic too. And I'm famous for doing something I didn't actually do."

Shadow nodded sagely. Hagrid, the gigantic Keeper of the Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts, had taken him and his aunt to Diagon Alley on his birthday. Although Harry knew a little of his celebrity, it was another thing entirely to have all those people either gaping at him, or pawing at him. It made him uncomfortable, to say the least.

Even so, Diagon Alley was wonderful. Uncle Solomon had regaled him with tales of its wonders, and the reality didn't disappoint. Unfortunately, for his first trip, he had to be restricted to getting school stuff, or else he would have spent all day in the games shop, or in Flourish and Blotts, the bookshop.

And then, there was what he found out about his wand. After a lot of trying, Ollivander finally gave him one that worked, but everyone present was disturbed to learn that the wand was the twin of none other than Voldemort's wand. Harry found that bit of information disturbing, to say the very least. It was his wand's brother that inflicted that jagged scar into his forehead.

Harry had sat down after waving his aunt goodbye, and was currently in an empty carriage. Soon, the Hogwarts Express was on its way.

He wasn't quite alone. There was Shadow, of course, and then there was that beautiful snowy white owl that Hagrid had bought for him. Harry had named her Hedwig, after someone he had read about in A History of Magic. But he was alone with them, for a time, until the door opened, and a red-haired boy with a smudge of dirt on his nose poked his face in. "Excuse me, can I sit in here? Just about everywhere else is full."

Harry shrugged. "Sure." He'd seen the boy, along with a family of redheads, on the platform. Twin brothers, older than this one, had promised to send their youngest child, a girl, a toilet seat from Hogwarts. Pranksters and troublemakers, presumably. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Ron Weasley. What about you?"

He seemed friendly enough, but Harry dreaded the attention he was going to be given very shortly. "My name is…please don't stare, but my name is Harry Potter. You're staring," Harry added after a brief pause.

"Oh, wow," Ron breathed. "And do you have the…?" He indicated his forehead.

Sighing, Harry brushed aside his hair to reveal the infamous scar.

"Wicked," Ron breathed.

"Well, the guy who gave it to me was," Harry remarked, a little too acidly.

Ron, shamefaced, leaned back. "Sorry. I heard you had to go and live with Muggles."

"My aunt's a Muggle, but my uncle…well, my current one, he's what you call a Squib. Solomon Muto."

"Oh yeah, the archaeologist!" Ron said, brightening. "Bill's met him a few times. My oldest brother: he's a cursebreaker for Gringott's, the bank. They hire him out to some of the archaeology digs. Bill thinks highly of him." He noticed the Millennium Puzzle. "Is that some souvenir your father got from Egypt?"

"Yeah, the Millennium Puzzle. Uncle Solomon is an expert at games, he runs a games shop in Surrey. He gave it to me. Supposedly, I was the only person to ever complete the Millennium Puzzle."

"Is that gold?"

"I think so."

Ron looked rather downcast. "Your uncle must be rich to give you something like that."

"Not really. What's the matter?" Harry then noticed that Ron was wearing rather worn-looking clothing. Hand-me-downs, he realised. "Doesn't your family have much?"

"We're a big family, and Dad…well, I reckon he should go to a higher-paying position."

"And what is his position now?"

"Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. Sometimes, some wizard tries to prank a Muggle, or harm them, by enchanting some object or other. Dad's Muggle-mad, but I don't think he understands half the stuff he looks at."

"Well, that's important, isn't it? I mean, Muggles may get hurt if things go badly."

"I guess, but it's apparently a bit of a joke, and underfunded. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand…and Percy, he's a prefect now, I've got his old rat." With that, Ron pulled out a rather fat, sleeping rat. "Meet Scabbers. Useless at just about everything but sleeping."

"Harry," Shadow said. "I sense something…unusual about that rat. Be careful."

Trying to mask his unease, given Shadow's warning, Harry asked, intending to change the topic, "What House do you intend to go into?"

"Oh, Gryffindor all the way," Ron said proudly. His face fell shortly after that. "Fred and George, my twin brothers, say that whatever we do to get into the Houses, it hurts. I hope it's not Slytherin."

Harry nodded. After Hagrid and Solomon had told him about the Houses, he did his research on them. The four Houses of Hogwarts were founded by, and named for, the Founders of Hogwarts. Godric Gryffindor, a warrior as well as a wizard, favoured the brave and the bold. Rowena Ravenclaw, a scholar, favoured those who also valued learning and scholarly pursuit. Helga Hufflepuff favoured those who enjoyed hard work and showed loyalty. And Salazar Slytherin favoured those who used cunning and had great ambitions.

Unfortunately, Slytherin favoured those wizards and witches who were pureblooded or half-blooded. This was, admittedly, for good reasons at the time: magic-users were feared, and often hunted down in pogroms, and Muggleborn students did carry a risk of exposing secrets. But the other Founders also believed that Muggleborn magic-users would be seduced by magic's potential. A schism developed, and Slytherin had something of a bad reputation ever since. It didn't help that Voldemort, not to mention the majority of his supporters, came from Slytherin.

"Don't worry," Harry said with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "If you do get sorted into Slytherin, you'll make it better just by being there."

Ron scowled at that. Clearly, he'd sooner die than do that. "What about you?"

"Well, my parents were in Gryffindor. But the other Houses are fine enough. If I was put into Slytherin, I'd try my best to change it for the better. I mean, what's wrong with ambition and cunning?"

Ron shrugged. Clearly he wasn't interested in a philosophical discussion. And anything else said on the matter was interrupted when the door opened, and two other kids stood at the door. One of them was a girl with bushy brown hair, rather rabbit-like teeth, and an imperious look to her face. The other was a rather chubby boy who looked like he had been crying.

"Excuse me?" she asked. "Have either of you seen a toad?"

Ron and Harry looked at each other, before they shook their heads. "Sorry," Harry offered. "But…isn't there a summoning spell?"

"But that's a fourth year spell," Ron murmured.

The girl's eyes widened. "A prefect will know! Thanks! Come on, Neville!"

As they left, Ron muttered, "If I had a toad, I'd lose it as soon as I could. Then again, I have Scabbers, so I can't talk."

A few minutes later, the other two kids were back. The boy, Neville, was clutching at his toad like his life depended on it and exclaiming thanks. The girl looked at Harry, and said, "Thanks for your help. I didn't get your name earlier. I'm Hermione Granger, and this is Neville Longbottom."

"This is Ron Weasley. And I am…please don't stare, but I'm Harry Potter." He sighed, exasperated. "You're both staring."

"You're Harry Potter?" Hermione asked. "I've heard so much about you…"

At first, Harry was worried that the girl was a fangirl. Then, he realised, given the way she was talking about things, that she wasn't quite that bad. Just a know-it-all. "Breathe, please," he said, interrupting her flow of words. As she did so, he said, "You know all those books, Hermione? Only four people were present that night, the one when Voldemort attacked."

Ron and Neville's eyes were as wide as saucers. "Y-you said You Know Who's name."

"The taboo curse isn't there anymore," Harry said.

"Taboo?" Hermione asked.

"You know the saying 'speak of the devil and he shall appear'? Sort of like that, only the Death Eaters would appear. That's part of the reason why people are afraid to say Voldemort's name. The rest is, of course, was that he was a powerful evil wizard. Anyway, as I said, four people were there. Two definitely died, one…well, he either died or is impotent, and the other, well…" He indicated himself. "I was a baby, probably soiling my nappies."

This provoked a wave of giggles, and Hermione and Neville sat down with them. But any attempt at getting to discuss each other further was interrupted when the door to the compartment opened, and a blonde-haired boy entered, flanked by a pair of other boys whose lifelong vocation seemed to be minions, and who seemed like gorillas, only less intelligent. Harry groaned inwardly. He had met the boy briefly while getting his uniform, and he wasn't pleasant. He'd been told later by Solomon that the boy was Draco Malfoy, the son of one of the top nobles in Magical Britain, Lucius Malfoy. Lucius was said to be a Death Eater, but had claimed to be under the Imperius Curse, though more than a few people thought it BS.

"They say Harry Potter is in this compartment," Draco asked haughtily.

"They say many things," Harry said facetiously. "Rumour mills aren't the best source of information. But it's right in this case." He waved his hands, and said, in a pseudo-cheerful tone, "Hi. I'm Harry Potter. And I know who you are now. You're Draco Malfoy, right?"

The boy smiled thinly, puffing himself up. "That's right." His eyes flickered over the carriage. Harry noted the recognition when he saw Ron and Neville, and the faint sneer at his mouth. An appraising look came to his face when he looked at Hermione, before he said, "This is Crabbe, and this is Goyle." He was referring to his minions. "You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don't want to go around making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

This attitude rankled at Harry, even as Malfoy put out his hand. Harry, pointedly, didn't take it. "Draco…if I may call you that…I don't need help with that." Deciding not to completely alienate the boy, Harry added, "But thank you for the offer all the same. And good luck at Hogwarts."

For a moment, Draco didn't seem to know whether to persist, insult Harry, or leave. Eventually, he nodded to his minions, and stepped out. But over his shoulder, he said, "Be careful, Potter. Your parents didn't know what was good for them either. And we know what happened to them."

As he left, Harry sighed. "Well, the nerve of him!" Hermione huffed. "Who does he think he is?"

"His father was a Death Eater, a supporter of Voldemort," Harry explained. "Claimed he was under the Imperius Curse. My uncle reckons that's rubbish." Remembering something from Hermione's talking earlier, he said, "You're Muggleborn, aren't you?"

"Well, yes. Why?"

"I'm guessing Draco shares his father's views on blood purity. He'd hate your guts."

"That's idiocy!" Hermione gasped.

"You won't argue with me," Harry said.

Hermione nodded, only to frown when she saw the Millennium Puzzle around his neck. "Harry…what is that thing? It looks Egyptian."

"It's something my uncle gave me," Harry said. "It's a good luck charm of sorts."

"Is it magical? What does it do?" Hermione asked.

"Well, let's just say I have a guardian angel watching over me of sorts…"

CHAPTER 1 ANNOTATIONS:

Nothing much to say here, other than we're going through the stations of canon. Hope you enjoyed the look at Petunia's thoughts.

No numbered annotations this time.