Chapter 1

A solitary figure concealed his presence from the others. Everyone was smiling, laughing, and talking. He watched as his father presented his little brother to everyone with a huge grin. His mother stood by his father's side, emitting in happiness. Everyone clapped their hands, cheering at the sight of the Boy-Who-Lived. At least, that was what they were so fond of calling him…

Silent tears glistened on the older brother's cheeks, whose birthday was on the exact same day. How ironic that he had once thought this was a good thing. Wouldn't it be fun for siblings to celebrate their mutual birthday together? But as of this day, he began to see it as an unfortunate twist of fate. It seemed not a single person at the party recalled his birthday was the same as their precious savior's. Not even their parents. The eldest brother often wished that his parents were different than any of them.

He had been looking forward to his fifth birthday, and had been very excited when he woke up that morning. But all that silly hope had collapsed to the ground. How naive he had been. All he wanted was for his parents to remember him, especially his mother. He craved her warmth, like every child does, wanting desperately for his mother to hug him and smile at him. Only him. His thoughts came crashing back to reality as the party-goers sang his brother the birthday song.

Slowly, he withdrew from the stair's railing and moved to the end of the room. Entering, he shut the door silently. The voices outside still echoed in his eardrums. He climbed to his bed, unafraid of the darkness because of the moonlight shining through his window. It appeared to him, the stars were shining just a little brighter tonight. He wished himself a happy birthday in a hush tone. And then, he pulled the covers over his head and dozed to sleep.

19 June 1991.

Harry woke up, at a snail's pace. Shoving his bangs out of his eyes, he stretched his hands and yawned. He comfortably buried his face into the pillow he conjured. He was alone in the empty compartment, having a wonderful nap. The train was returning to King's Cross station for the beginning of the summer. His eyes fixed on the window, gazing with indifference at the passing trees, stones, and grass. His thoughts floated off to space.

Harry could hardly believe he still remembered his fifth birthday.

Ever since that fateful day, he had resolved to show his parents how sadly mistaken they had been neglecting their eldest son. Cynically, he supposed he had to thank them for that. If it hadn't been for them, his five-year-old mind could not have developed such mature thoughts. Of course, he had several others to thank in that regard, such as his so-called godfather, who couldn't be bothered to perform his duty because he was too busy doting on Harry's younger brother instead. The same went for his werewolf of an uncle, they were all the same.

Bunch of pathetic fools they were. If he could, he would have deserted that place he called 'home' long ago and drifted to some serene place by himself, Of course, he was merely thirteen, going on fourteen, and this was only the end of his third year. The doors to his compartment snapped unlocked, sliding open to break his thoughts. Harry glanced at the door. His apparently half-closed eyes locked onto those of a four girls in his year, all in the process of becoming woman, good-looking woman.

"Told ya he'd be here. Never doubt me, girls," a girl with short, spiky hair declared smugly, the red orbs in her eyes shining enthusiastically.

"Whatever, Gryffindor. Now move, you're in the way," another voice erupted from a gorgeous blond girl. She shoved the perky looking girl out of the way, entered the compartment, and sat down across from Harry. She crossed her arms and silently stared at Harry with her light green eyes.

"Hey!" the perky looking girl grumbled. "All snakes are the same, damn it."

"Enough is enough. Let's just go inside before anyone comes to see what's the ruckus is about. And mind your language, please."

This time the gentle voice came from a face Harry knew quite well. She had dim blue hair, medium length, and her azure eyes shone intelligently. She could never be found without a book in her hand. The other two obeyed, and took a seat. The final girl who hadn't yet spoken was scarlet headed, and offhandedly gestured to Harry's feet, wordlessly asking his permission to sit. Harry lifted his feet off the compartment bench and tossed them to the ground. The girl bit her lips at Harry's look of annoyance, her gold-yellowish eyes dancing warily. She sat down, not seeming to mind how close their bodies were.

"What?" Harry snapped, not liking the way every eye in the room rested on him. "You want me to congratulate you for working on house unity?"

"Don't be such a jerk, Potter," Daphne Greengrass, the blond, remarked. "You shouldn't be hostile to your guests."

Harry lifted an eyebrow at her attitude before shifting his attention back out the window.

"Harry, we were worried about you," the girl with the blue hair, Callista Campbell, spoke softly.

"Yeah, we looked through every compartment. Do you know how tiring that is? We almost got hexed by the upper years for barging into their compartments." The frowning girl went by the name Regine Barberis.

"As far as I remember, I didn't ask any of you to come looking for me. So that would be your problem to deal with," Harry muttered.

Sheila Jonnet snorted, the girl with red orb eyes. "Geez, you really are in a bad mood. We were just worried, okay? Don't get all cold and angry with us. Just because you're the brother-"

"Jonnet!" Daphne hissed irately.

"Sheila, that was uncalled for." Callista glowered at the hyper girl, who shrunk under the two glares and mumbled an apology.

Regine watched Harry ignoring them. "Harry, are you alright?"

The other girls abruptly stopped their petty argument to look at Harry.

"Yeah... sorry about earlier. You girls interrupted my nap, that's all."

His tone left no room for discussion, which only made the girls want to discuss it. They all knew enough to keep their mouths shut, though, except for Sheila. She opened her mouth to speak and was immediately shot down by three glares. The next few minutes passed slowly in the intense silence swarming around the compartment. Four out of five couldn't handle the pressure, and yet the boy seemed unaffected by it. The girls spoke volumes to each other through their facial expressions.

They glared at Sheila, who was still sulking over being shut up. She always had a crazy way of doing things. Thankfully the silence in the compartment splintered when the common cart, managed by a familiar lady, passed by. She slid open the doors and asked if they needed anything.

"No sweat, I got it! My treat this time and no complaining, Callista. Being a pureblood comes with the wealth advantage, except for the Weasley's, so I don't mind." Overlooking Callista's weak dissent, Sheila sprang up and everyone forgot the awkwardness. "Let's see now... uh, five pumpkin juices, four chocolate frogs, some gum for me... Oh, and one cauldron cake for Daphne. She's not fond of chocolates."

The dimpled old witch responded with a smile of her own as she took the order. "Here you go, dear," she said kindly, tossing the items to the girls. Sheila paid with a handful of coins, and closed the compartment doors.

Sheila handed Harry a pumpkin juice and a chocolate frog. "Here you go, Harry. Whatever it is on your mind, you can share it with the rest of us when you're ready. You know we're always here for you, we wouldn't leave you to fend by yourself. You're hopeless without us to cheer you up."

A tiny smile worked its way onto Harry's face as he accepted the offering. "I'm really sorry..."

"Save it Potter. You don't have to apologize to anyone." Daphne's lips curled into a smirk, shoving a handful of cake into her mouth. "Although I do have to congratulate Jonnet on having a brain. I didn't think any Gryffindors did. And here I thought all she cared about was some pointless Quidditch."

"Hey!" Sheila exclaimed through a mouthful of gum. "You're just jealous our team beat Slytherin's, Daph. Just admit it, they couldn't possibly catch up to our score with me as a chaser!"

"But Hufflepuff won their match against Gryffindor this year," Regine cut in.

"Well that's because this year, their new seeker caught the bloody snitch before ours did. All of our seekers are weak," Sheila protested.

"Sheila, language, please."

"Sorry," she grinned sheepishly.

"Still, it doesn't change the fact that Ravenclaw won the Quidditch trophy and wiped the floor of the other teams, even without the best seeker," Callista said with a grin, unable to help herself.

Regine grumbled, grudgingly acknowledging this. "They've won three years in a row now. All because of one chaser who impossibly scores 140 in every game, all by himself. He was the youngest Quidditch player on the team, too. I mean, it's practically inhuman. You always think there must be some way to beat the guy, but nooo, he just has to be good."

Their eyes shifted the only male in the compartment. Harry chugged away his pumpkin juice, though the smirk on his mouth didn't go unseen.

"Next time I'll beat you, Potter! And next time that cup will be paraded around our common room! I'll be bragging about it until the day you die!" Sheila cried, pumping a fist in the air with determination.

"I don't mind you trying, Sheila. You can't even touch me in the sky. How in god's name you're going to beat me, I have no idea. But the best of luck to you, in any case."

"Ugh, that bloody smug attitude of his. So annoying."

"The same words like last year… You're always dreaming, Sheila. You'd have to train ten times harder than usual if you want to beat Harry, I already told you that. You know our Harry is a natural flier," Regine advised.

Sheila's eyes burned in motivation at the challenge laid at her feet. "I know that, Regine. That's why I'm training all summer."

"I agree with Regine. Ravenclaw is going to win the cup again, so don't even dream of taking it from us, Sheila. If I know you, you're only going to be even lazier this summer." Callista didn't even bother to reprimand her friends' language, her book lay forgotten on her lap.

"Stop with the Quidditch craziness, will you? You all, are making me dizzy," Daphne said, eyes twitching in annoyance when the others ignored her. "I regret ever mentioning that bloody game," she muttered, thrusting another handful of cake in her mouth. Her eyes caught Harry's side-long glance at her. "Shut up, Potter," she hissed.

He knew she had never enjoyed Quidditch. The only reason she even attended the matches was to display her support for him and Sheila.

Amused, Harry moved his gaze back to the window. "I didn't say anything."

"Yeah, and I'm my mother," she said sarcastically. She huffed, finishing the last of her cauldron cake.

Harry smiled. It was times like these he couldn't help but feel at peace with the girls' company. He knew he was very lucky to have met them during their first year, though he had no desire to admit that to anyone. The girls stayed by his side wherever he went. It was hard to find true friends when every boy at school brought up the Boy Who Lived in the middle of every conversation, asking him his thoughts on the subject and requesting autographs from his brother. When he refused to have any part in this, the other boys proclaimed him jealous of his brother's fame. It angered him every time they did that, and was in fact the very reason he pushed away his male classmates.

For the rest of the ride, each student was occupied with themselves. Daphne and Callista were engaged in their books, Regine and Sheila played exploding snap, and Harry watched the world pass by outside his window. Eventually, he drifted to sleep, eyes tiredly falling to darkness.

"Alright! We've arrived at King's Cross station!" Sheila exclaimed enthusiastically. "Next stop, Jonnet Mansion!"

The train pulled to a stop, smoke bursting from its chimney.

"Must you get excited on everything, Jonnet?" Daphne grumbled.

"Don't mind her, Daphne, you know she'll never change." Callista smiled at her friend's childish antics.

"I always wonder who's been slipping her sugar. It's getting harder to control her these days. Honestly..." Harry murmured as he pulled his trunks down. A small smile cracked through his usual expression of boredom.

"Always the object of teasing." Daphne smirked.

"You'll regret that, Potter, once the Quidditch cup rests in my hands!"

Regine shook her head. "Always dreaming of beating Harry. When will you ever learn?"

They waited patiently as the students ahead of them filed slowly out of the train. They talked all the while, promising again and again to write each other.

"Oh, there's my parents! Well, I guess this is it. I'll see you guys in September," Sheila spoke. The others hushed each other, waiting expectantly for her dramatic farewell. Finally, she burst into tears. "I can't believe I won't be seeing you guys for three whole months! You better promise to write me letters!"

Regine couldn't help it, she sniffled and hugged Sheila tightly. "Don't worry, I will."

Callista stepped in, smiling as she gave Sheila a tender hug and promised to do the same. Harry stood motionless, wanting nothing to do with it and Daphne copied him. She stood her ground, rolling her eyes at Sheila's display of 'tears'.

"Come here, Harry!" Sheila dashed to him, hugging him so tightly he had to gasp for air. "You better write to me, Harry, or else!" Harry adjusted his neck, checking for any dislodged bones. Sheila then shifted her attention to Daphne, who looked mildly annoyed. She knew what was coming. In a split-second, she was engulfed in a bone-crushing hug."You'd best write to me, too, snake, and I mean it. Even though we argue all the time, you're one of my best friends. I don't care about some stupid house rivalry. Friendship is what matters."

The last three sentences came as whispers that only Daphne could hear. To say Daphne wasn't touched would be a lie. Her expression softened and she hugged her friend back tightly. "I will, Sheila..." Waving goodbye, Sheila ran to her pureblood family. She hugged her parents, and with one final wave, she disappeared through the crowd.

"Big sister!" Regine snapped her attention to the voices calling out for her. A huge smile crossed her face as she saw two little boys of five years rush over to her. She kneeled down to their level and instantly enveloped them in a hug. "We missed you, big sister!"

"Oh, I missed you, too. Ethan, Nathan, have you been good? You didn't cause trouble for Noah, did you?" She said the last part with a tone of suspicion as well as concern for her eight-year-old brother.

"Yes!" they chirped, grinning boyishly. "C'mon, papa and mama are waiting!"

Her twin brothers each tugged at her arms, leaving Regine little opportunity to say goodbye. She swiftly hugged each of her friends, thanking Harry and Daphne for their advice. Daphne waved off her now yellow handkerchief, insisting it was a parting gift.

"Another year has passed by, time slipping through our hands with each passing day. Feels like just yesterday we were annoying Madam Prince for making too much noise in our first year. It won't be long before we graduate from Hogwarts. It's too bad time passes so quickly," Callista thought out loud.

Harry and Daphne exchanged looks, cocking their eyebrows at their friend's wise words.

"Callista, you're speaking to yourself again," Daphne commented. "And for the record, we have four more years before we graduate from Hogwarts."

Callista smiled sheepishly. "Sorry about that, I didn't realize."

"Your daydreaming will be the source of trouble in the near future. Best to remember that," Harry remarked, walking ahead.

"I do not daydream. You're entirely mistaken, Harry." she huffed, marching by his side.

Nonetheless, she pondered Harry's words. Daphne smirked on Harry's other side.

"Yeah, and I'm Daphne's mother," Harry retorted, causing Daphne to crack a grin.

They walked calmly through the barrier at Platform 9 3/4, glancing at the passing Muggles on the other side.

"Oh, there's my parents." Callista pointed to two adults waiting patiently for her.

Facing her two friends, Callista hugged Daphne, promising again to write letters. She moved to Harry, boldly kissing his cheek lightly. Harry's face warmed, this being the first time anyone had shown him that kind of affection. Callista simply flashed him a beautiful smile, a tint of red forming on her own cheeks. Daphne looked agitated.

"Have a good summer, Harry. If you need someone, just remember us. We're always there for you. See you two in September."

Harry nodded his head, slightly embarrassed by her previous advance. He had never obtained that kind of affection from either of his parents and it had been a very long time since he experienced those feelings. It was the same feeling Harry had acquired when Sheila hugged him - the first hug he had received in years - at the end of his first year. His heart thumped as violently as it had then. A tiny part of Harry envied the girls for having the loving parents he was denied.

A soft hand interlocked his own, disrupting his thoughts. He looked into Daphne's concerned, green eyes. "Alright?"

Harry nodded, smiling sadly. He tightened his grip on her hand, wishing for her comfort. Looking around, he hadn't spotted any of his family members. They hadn't come to pick him up. This happened every year, they merely overlooked his existence. He had been taking care of himself since he was five years old. But now, he had the girls, and that was all that mattered. Harry offered her a bright smile, which Daphne warmly returned. Her heart never failed to warm every time she saw Harry smile.

"Do you mind me using the floo at your mansion?"

Daphne's smile faltered. Every year Harry made the same request, his only way to return home.

"No, come on. Mother will be thrilled to have your company. Father can burn some steam talking Quidditch with you like usual, and Astoria can keep ogling her crush. They're over at the same corner as last year. Let's go."

"If I didn't misunderstand you, I'd almost think you were using your floo to bait me."

Daphne smirked. "Don't you know, Potter? That's how Slytherin works. We grab every opportunity to barter a deal."

"Yeah, but you're not a hundred percent Slytherin."

"True..." she agreed with a hint of smile. Subsequently, she yanked his hand, pulling him in the direction of her family, never loosening her grip.

19 June 1991.

It was late at night before the green fire finally burst from the fireplace of the Potter mansion.

"Ooof," Harry landed in an improper heap on the living room floor.

Grumbling, he mutely cursed his lack of skill concerning magical travel. His comical falls never failed to irritate him. Daphne, who rarely laughed, had giggled when they traveled to Greengrass manor by Portkey earlier. Harry's eyes had glimmered in jealousy when she landed gracefully on both feet with a smirk. Looking around, he heaved a sigh of relief, nobody was around to greet him.

Harry coolly waved his right hand behind his back, forcing his trunk to hover in the air. It followed Harry to his room as he shoved his hands in his pockets and took silent steps past the staircase. He always hated being in his room. It brought back years' worth of lonely memories. However, it was also his sanctuary, the only place he could spend his time without anyone bothering him. His room contained bookshelves, a simple wardrobe, a small bed, and a desk. Every inch of the bookshelves was covered by books he'd taken from the Potter library, which was enormous.

"Hawwy…"

Harry paused in his doorway. The voice was coming from down the hallway, out of a cute little girl in a nightgown. The girl was holding a doll in her left hand, and rubbing her chestnut brown eyes with her right. Her smooth, raven colored hair was messy from sleep.

"Rosaline?"

Harry's little sister was no more than two and a half, but Harry already believed her to be brilliant. She had a peculiar grasp on English language, able to speak the majority of it fluently, except for Harry's name, which she never did get right.

Harry knelt in front of his sister. "Rosaline, what are you doing up this late? You should be in bed."

"Weting for big brother to cme hme," she yawned innocently. "I want Hawwy wead me stowy book, like mommy."

Harry smiled as Rosaline raised both hands up at Harry, begging him to take her in his arms. Harry shook his head, amazed at this little girl.

"Alright, then. Up you go, you little troll."

He picked up her fragile form and carried her to her own room. The moment she laid her head on his shoulder, she was out, and for the second time that day, Harry was overwhelmed. He tucked her into her bed, in her room which is larger than his own. He pulled the blanket up to her chin to protect her from the coldness of the dark night. Smiling, he glanced around her room, at least his parents didn't neglect his little sister. She was spoiled rotten with toys, attention, and love. Harry was just happy she wasn't walking the sad, solitary trail he was resigned to. He left her door ajar, allowing the flickering house lights to enter her room.

He supposed fate really did take a pleasure in twisting people's lives.

20 June 1991.

"Hawwy! Wakey, Hawwy! Wakey, Wakey!" Harry Potter's peaceful sleep was interrupted by a tiny figure tugging on his right arm. "Hawwy, wakey now!"

Grumbling, Harry reclaimed his arm and turned on his side, his back facing the little girl. Pouting, Rosaline Potter climbed onto her brother's bed, jumping up and down as she giggled. Harry groaned drowsily, surfacing from the sheets he'd been wrapped in.

"Rosaline, stop that, you're hurting me." Harry sighed in distress. He stared into the wide, curious hazel eyes in front of him. "Would you mind getting off me, Rosaline? You're heavy."

Rosaline huffed, pouting angrily. It brought a smirk to his face. His little sister didn't like anyone telling her she was fat, for the simple reason that princesses aren't. With a wave of his hand and enormous concentration, Rosaline floated into the air. She shrieked in joy, clapping her hands giddily. Gently, Harry lowered her back to the ground, where she continued to clap her tiny hands in excitement.

"Again, again, again!" she demanded with glee.

"One ride only, Rosaline."

"Rosy!" she huffed.

"No, your name is Rosaline Potter, not Rosy. That's just your nickname."

"Hawwy is mean!"

"Oh, he is, is he?" She nodded her head rapidly. "Well, that's too bad, because he has a present for little Rosy."

Rosaline broke into another cheer, skipping in circles. "Yay! Present, present!"

Harry shook his head with a smile at the joy of being a child. He whipped a wolf doll out of his trunk and presented it to Rosaline, who hugged the little thing fiercely. Harry then ushered her out of his room, and began to prepare for his day, reminding Rosaline that he didn't want her to bother him for the rest of the day. He was planning to meet someone later. Softly coaxing Rosaline out the door, he shut it securely before casting a locking charm upon the doorknob and a privacy ward around his room. He shot another charm at his trunk, which began unpacking itself and placing his luggage in its proper place. Harry then retired to the bathroom to enjoy a long shower.

Once he was done brushing his teeth, he eyed at the look of his silk hair that spiked up in natural manner yet somewhat subdued. His hair was nothing like his father's. In fact, Harry considered himself quite different from the rest of the Potters. Thank God, he didn't need to wear those hideous round glasses, as his eyesight was rather perfect. Harry stared himself in the mirror. He was going to meet that 'man' today. The very man who taught him to use magic to the fullest, unlike any other wizard. The man who had lived far longer than any other wizard, however, cut his ties from wizarding society in favor living peacefully in the Muggle world. This man had lived a lonely useless life until he met Harry, whom he resolved in crafting Harry as his heir.

Harry had been lucky to encounter him by coincidence. Their meeting had been a major point in his life.

Harry settled on Muggle clothes, an Ascot hat, and his luxurious brown coat that reached to his knees. Opening the drawer of his desk, he picked up the Portkey he had illegally created. Activating the Portkey, he left the Potter mansion, only to land once more on his butt, this time in front of the Leaky Cauldron. Fortunately, there were no people to witness his rather embarrassing entrance since it was still fairly early in the morning. Standing up and dusting off the dirt of his pants, Harry threw his coat over his arms. A sound like thunder prompted him to place a hand on his stomach. He entered the leaky cauldron to stumble on a few people chatting and drinking Butterbeer. Harry sauntered to the bar and plopped down on a stool. Tom, the bartender, approached him warily, mostly due to his Muggle clothes.

"What can I get you, lad?"

"The usual, Tom." Harry tipped his hat to reveal his face.

"Merlin, save me, its little Harry! Well, not that little anymore… Great to see you again, lad. Returned from Hogwarts, eh? Well, glad to have you back. But I suppose you're in a hurry, as always. Me wife will rough up that meal for you in no time. Just sit tight lad, it'll be out in a jiffy."

Harry nodded his head and Tom disappeared into the back. Shouts ensued from behind the bar, Harry had to smile knowingly. Nothing ever changed in the Leaky Cauldron, no matter how many days passed by. Harry ate, left a considerate tip, and strolled back out into the alleyway. London was huge, with thousands of Muggles milling by Harry, who walked in the direction of a Muggle bus stop. He still had plenty of Muggle money left on account of him visiting the Muggle world many times. He found it intriguing and worthy of being explored, as many children do.

The difference between Harry and many children, though, was that Harry had the ability to sneak out into the Muggle world.

Harry honestly believed the Muggles to be brilliant, the whole lot of them. They managed to survive entirely without magic, relying solely on their brains, and looking around him, he discovered the technology they'd invented was amazing. Their warfare was far beyond anything witches and wizards were capable of. With a single click, they could destroy an entire nation. They could discover anything in concern of anyone or anyplace by simply using an item called, 'the computer'.

Of course it cannot be said the same to the Magical people, they were as naive as they could get. They thought with a swish of their wand made them superior to Muggles and they still refused to acknowledge how dangerous Muggles could be when the need arises. Sure, one Muggle was weak against a wizard. But what if they joined arms? Together, Muggles would be unbeatable. Harry blew a sigh. He really shouldn't be working his brain up over something like that. It was useless since the 'magic is might' thought was set in stone.

Along with the Muggles, Harry entered the bus and parked himself a seat. He looked at the window to his side and dozed off.

31 October 1985

The tinkling bell above a shop door chimed, signaling a new customer. A man in a white cloak stepped through the door, his blue eyes scrutinizing the shop, apparently in search of someone.

"Come in, come in, good sir. Do you need anything from Madam Malkin's Robes?" Madam Malkin herself welcomed the stranger.

The man smiled. "I do apologize, madam, but I was informed the boy I was seeking for could be located here?"

"Oh?" She quirked her lips. "And who might that be, good sir?"

"The bartender of the Cauldron mentioned a young boy was here. Is he, madam?"

"Oh, you mean little Harry?" She smiled brightly.

"Little Harry?" The man's eyebrows furrowed inquisitively.

"Yes, little Harry. He's quite a fellow for someone of his age. Every person in Diagon Alley knows him. We like to call him little Harry because of his unusual small size, and his insistence that no one uses his last name. He's been running errands for us shopkeepers ever since he was seven. May I say, what a cute little boy he is. So diligent for a small boy too."

"May I steal him for just a moment?"

"He's in the back, cleaning up a mess. I can call him if you wish, but you'll have to wait here, sir."

"If it is all the same to you, may I meet there?" The man smiled charmingly.

"...Of course…" She was reluctant. "Just don't harm the boy, please. We're all very fond of him. We have our sneaky suspicions that he doesn't like his home very much. Why, he comes to the alley nearly everyday, looking for some errand or another."

"I solemnly give you my word, madam. I will not harm the boy." The man gave a half bow.

Madam Malkin pointed her finger to the rear of the shop and the man walked through aisles of robes. Arriving at the back of the shop, he hit upon a boy scrubbing the floor, cursing under his breath as he concentrated on the dirt.

"Are you the one they identify to be little Harry?"

Scowling, the boy looked up at the stranger, not liking the way people called him little. "Yes, sir, that would be me. Do you need anything from me?"

The man watched the boy with increasing interest. "My, that scowl is rather incompatible for a young boy, isn't it? A cheerful smile should be more suited for a person of your age, my dear child."

The scowl increased. "Sir, if you don't need anything from me, then please, allow me to return to my work." Harry was starting to dislike this man a lot.

The stranger ignored this and placed his hand on Harry's head. The man shut his eyes and Harry had the strangest feeling that his soul was being judged. Then, before he knows it, he felt something tingling inside him. Blinking his eyes in a complete bemusement, he shook his head slightly at the sensation he experienced just then. With a smile, the man opened his eyes once more.

"For such a young boy, you have a different magical core than the others. Far larger than the magical people of this current time. And, I see, you are the person from your blood that inherited 'it'," the man mused more to himself at the last part. "Tell me, do you have any desire to seek knowledge of magic? Magic that had been lost for many, many years."

"Why would I learn it from a stranger? If I want to learn magic, all I have to do is wait until I turn eleven. That's the-"

"-reason why you do these chores for money? To buy your school supplies in a few years? You are preparing for Hogwarts, are you not?" Harry glared at the man wordlessly. "What if I teach you what magic truly is?"

"How do I know you're not lying?"

The man chuckled merrily. "You seem to have a problem trusting people, Harry." Without breaking his gaze at Harry, the man lazily blinked his eyes and suddenly the entire mess in front of Harry was organized. It was very spotless, not dust or any trace of dirt lying on the floor.

Harry's emerald eyes widened. "How did you do that?"

"Like I told you. Magic. I can teach you the true meaning of magic, if you wish."

"What's in it for you?" Harry pressed doubtfully.

"Nothing. All I ask is that you never give up. Do this and there is no turning back, do you understand?"

Harry mulled this over, thinking he hadn't detected any lies from him. "Who are you, sir? You are not around…from here…are you?"

"No, I am not." The man's lips curled into a captivating smile. "People like to call me..."

20 June 1991.

Harry held his hat in place when the wind threatened to take his brown coat. It swayed violently. He looked up at the frightening mansion, sitting alone atop the hill. He pursed his lips. Why couldn't the man just allow magical transportation to his mansion, rather than forcing Harry to walk the distance every time? Sometimes the old man's wise words infuriated Harry. His musings were interrupted by the mansion gates splitting open. He supposed his presence had been expected. Harry strode to the front door, watching as the two grand doors opened on their own.

There was a sort of holy orb in the house, glowing white. Harry wasn't thrown off by this since it was merely a companion for the man who lived in this forsaken mansion all by himself. The orb darted forward, giving Harry time to pursue it. Harry trailed behind and the front doors closed with a loud clang.

Passing many ridiculous artifacts and ancient ornaments, Harry strolled along inside the mansion. He stuffed both hands in his coat pockets, a habit he'd formed over the years. The orb suddenly stopped moving, merely fading away inside the large living room. Darkness devoured the room and the only light source was a flaming fireplace. There, on a large chair next to the fire was a lone man. His magical aura emanated through the living room, leaving little doubt as to how powerful he was.

Clearing his throat audibly, Harry sauntered in front of the man's chair. The man's features were pale under his raven-black hair, the twinkle in his blue eyes would put Dumbledore to shame. Staring at the man's hair, Harry noticed several gray hairs. If he hadn't known any better, he might have thought the man was getting old. But that was downright impossible, the man shouldn't have been aging at all.

"Merlin." The man smiled enchantingly wherein it had Harry grunted.

For all time, Merlin's smile had been capable of alleviating any pressure, awkwardness, or darkness. The ability mystified Harry to no end.

"Harry..." Merlin's soft voice lingered on the name. "How many times must I appeal to you to not use that moniker. My name is Myrddin Emrys."

"That's what the magical people call you, old man," Harry stubbornly insisted, ignoring the man's real name.

Merlin sighed. "Yes, my mother used to call me that because of my extraordinary power."

"Magic, you mean." Harry received an affirmative nod. "I still don't understand why you prefer to stand by and watch the wizarding world crumble when you could be helping. You're more powerful than every wizard and witch combined. Hell, you're so powerful that most people think you're a myth or - or a deity!"

"I have stated before, Harry, that is none of my concern. Your world is no longer my own. It has become corrupted in the passage of time, and reeks of people much too eager power. My decision to live in peace is unchangeable. My only wish is to pass my knowledge to you."

Harry scoffed. "Still, you have no idea what to do with your immortality. You could rule the entire wizarding world with one sweep of your hand. You could unite the wizards together again. But instead it's scattered in groups. Light, dark, grey, magical creatures herded and isolated from their own kind. All because of your ignorant stubbornness. Just look how miserable you are, living in this huge mansion for thousands of years with no one except for that holy elemental you call Skip."

A creepy smile wrapped it's way around Merlin's jaws. "You are too young to understand my situation, Harry. Immortality does not end your worries... Best not to seek it... Time ages, history repeats itself, and the sword continues to nourish. An endless cycle that will never cease to flow... And now, after so many years have passed, immortality is within the reach of those who possess enough knowledge. But, they achieve it in ugly ways, Harry, or by wasting their life on research."

"You're referring to Nicholas Flamel, the alchemist who created the Sorcerer's stone. He and his wife lived for over six centuries."

"Yes, they foiled their written fate, escaping the end decided upon by Death. Only those who live forever can learn how cruel immortality can be. It won't be long before they desire death. Death will mercilessly steal their souls as they will be, in time, where they part from our world and onto the next journey."

Merlin squinted his eyes at the young teen. Harry couldn't budge his head. It was frozen there, forcing him to fall to the fiery blue eyes. In one simple gaze, they had taken away Harry's ability to move, shattering his willpower and all his hope. "I forbid you to seek immortality, Harry. I myself have lived far too long, watching hopelessly as the people I've come to know and care died."

"Immortality doesn't suit me. I have no desire for it, old man…" Finally released from his statue-like predicament, Harry was out of breath. "How does your story goes, anyway? You once mentioned to me that Camelot was a wondrous place. It was where both worlds lived together, right? How did a country as huge as Camelot disintegrate to a mere legend so easily? How... how did an immortal like King Arthur die? Logically speaking, it's impossible. You told me you achieved immortality the same time he did, and I've never wondered how you got it, until now."

Merlin sat in silence for a time before speaking. "So long ago... and yet, it feels as though it was only yesterday. Arthur and I... we were granted immortality by those who called themselves the Ancients. I was given magic, while Arthur was given Excalibur. But as time died, so did Camelot. Those without magic rebelled, and Arthur was betrayed by his own people. He fought the war, killing his people with his own two hands. It left a deep scar in his heart. He ordered his last loyal servant to throw Excalibur into the lake... Until this day, that lake has never been found. Even with all of my magic, I have been denied. As Excalibur was long gone, it also took Arthur's immortality with it. He perished, leaving me behind to suffer immortality alone..."

"You couldn't have gotten immortality through magic, because you've had magic ever since you were born, just like every other wizard. But through the knowledge of the Ancients..." Harry furrowed his eyebrows together as his brain furiously worked to keep up with the implications of such a story. "You want to die like King Arthur, don't you? By giving your knowledge away to me, you're starting to age like everyone else. You broke the rules, didn't you? The Ancients warned you to never share this magic. Now, there's no turning back, and you'll keep on aging. Considering your age, you have, what… three or perhaps six more years left? ...You've been planning this ever since you met me, haven't you?" Harry was struck by this terrible realization. "What am I, Merlin? Your executioner? I agreed to learn this magic so I could prove that my parents were wrong for neglecting me, not so I could kill someone! If I ever kill, it will be to protect those who are precious to me, not for my own gains."

"That is the reason why I chose to give my knowledge to you before time sweeps me away. I am very grateful to have met you, Harry."

"Are you daft, old man? Don't joke with me! I only studied magic in the first place to show my parents how powerful I could be. I am not learning - I repeat, not learning if the cost of that knowledge is someone else's life! I'll admit that sometimes I can be a prick - okay, a large prick! - but I'm not cruel! You're not as wise as you think you are... you're just insane!"

"Is it really?" Merlin cut in.

"W-what do you mean?" Harry asked, his composure collapsing around him.

"In all the years that I've lived, I've never seen a boy train to the point of exhaustion every single day of his life. Even I, myself, do not possess that kind of resolve. You are a very talented boy, Harry. I have no doubt about you. Tell me this, Harry... is it truly the motive behind your determination? To make your parents regretful? Or do you perhaps crave for your parents' approval more than you think?"

Harry stiffened, not having expected that. His palms became sticky with sweat.

"Do not deny your feelings, Harry... Deep within your heart, you are still waiting, yearning for their affection. Am I wrong?"

"Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Harry shouted, his fists quivering. Merlin remained calm, unfazed by the outburst. "What do you know, old man? You're not the one who was left alone in your room every day of your childhood, wanting nothing more than a hug from your own mother! You're not the child whose father never taught you how to fly a broom! Your own mother loved you! You never even met your father, because he loved you so much, he sacrificed his life for you! Don't lecture me like you know what it's like! I don't care how many years you've lived, old man, you have to live through mine before you can spit out words about it!"

Harry was breathing hard, his chest heaving up and down. It felt good to let it all out, to unleash all that agony hiding deep inside him in one breath. He did not care that the man he had just yelled at was quite possibly the most powerful being in the planet. He had finally bared his frustration to someone.

Merlin's eyes saddened by the sight in front of him. "Yes, you are right, Harry. I have not experienced-"

"That's enough," Harry interrupted. "I came here for a reason, not to have polite conversations with you. If you want to decompose to nothing so be it. That's your choice, and I couldn't care less what you choose. Like you said, I don't understand immortality."

Merlin returned his gaze to the fire. "Very well. Neither of us can erase what has been done. You must prepare yourself, Harry, because I will have you working very hard for the next two months."

"I've been preparing my body since I was eight. That's the very reason I'm so excellent in Quidditch."

"Ah, the very sport that was invented to-"

"For an elder guy, you do love wasting time chatting, aren't you, old man?"

Merlin pursed his lips sadly, mumbling to himself, "He reminds me of Arthur. That man treated me like a weakling, disrespecting me when I became his servant..." Out of the blue, Merlin rose from his chair, suddenly feeling very old. "Impatience is the downfall of..."

He continued his lecture and Harry groaned loudly, tuning him out. All that anger, negative emotion, and pressure that had filled the room earlier was completely forgotten as his tutor continued his speech. Merlin smiled at his only pupil. Yes, Harry had been right. This had been his intention from the start.