Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. It belongs to J. K. Rowling, Warner Bros and Bloomsbury. I only own the original plot ideas and concepts that I implement in this piece of fiction to make it a bit more original and entertaining. Make sure to read the A/N at the end of every chapter to catch any news about the story. Enjoy!

A few pointers before we start the chapter.

AU: Magical cores are a thing. Not everyone has the same magical potential. Wizards and witches can tap into the ambient magic for the most powerful rituals and spells, but it is extremely difficult and very few can do it.

AU: There are ancient and noble houses. The Sacred Twenty-Eight are such houses. House Malfoy is not one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight since they are originally from France, and the Sacred Twenty-Eight refer to the founding British families of Magical Britain. The Potters, however, are a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, since their ancestry can be traced back to the Peverell Family, who were one of the many that led the foundation of Magical Britain.

AU: Britain's Wizard/Witches Population is slightly over than 20,000, instead of just a few thousand.

I believe that's all for now. If you are not put off by the summary nor by what I established above this final message, then I truly hope you enjoy the story.

Magical Beginnings

"Hmph, that's a look that suits you, boy."

Harry ignored the gleeful smugness radiating from his horse-faced and giraffe-necked aunt as he stared with horror into the mirror. She had cut his hair… and rendered a mess. One side of his was shaved and the other want had undulating lines shaved through it. To be completely honest, it was awful.

"I can't go to school like this!" Harry exclaimed, turning towards his cruel aunt with watering eyes behind his glasses.

She sneered. "I don't care, boy. Go to your room and make sure to wake up early so you can prepare breakfast."

Hearing the vindictiveness in her voice, Harry hurried out of the bathroom, a deep scowl on his childish face. He didn't know why his relatives treated him so bad, as he had done nothing to warrant the treatment. The just hated him for no reason. Harry wanted nothing more than to move out of this house but he was only six years old and he had nowhere to go.

He had tried to bring up the issue of his treatment to teachers in the school. They had promised to look into it to see if he was telling the truth but after a few days they seemed to lose interest, even refusing to talk to him. It was very weird but there was nothing he could do about it since it has happened multiple times already.

Harry reached his 'room', which was the cupboard under the stairs of the house. He slipped inside, closed and locked the door and laid on his bed, curled up like a baby. A few seconds later and he began to sob, wishing with all his might that the treatment from his relatives stopped. He also wished for his hair to magically grow back so he wouldn't be laughed at while in school.

Harry felt a tingling sensation on the back of his head. There was a comforting warmth running through his body and he suddenly felt more exhausted than ever before. He fell asleep, not having enough time to wonder about the bizarre occurrence.

Harry woke up the next day feeling lethargic and slightly tired, but he still rose from his bed and went outside and into the kitchen so he cpuld prepare breakfast for everyone else. He was in the middle of spreading butter into a few loafs of breads when a horrified shriek coming from the entrance of the kitchen made him jump and drop the knife and the bread.

He turned sharply and saw a pale Petunia Dursley, shaking as she pointed at his head.

"What?"

"Yo-yo-you freak! You grew your hair back! I knew you were one of them! Freak!"

Harry filled that commentary about him being 'one of them' for later. With wide eyes, he reached for his head and he smiled happily as he felt his mane of rich black hair resting on his head. He didn't know what happened, or how it was possible, but the important thing was that it had happened. Also, this probably had to do with him being 'one of them', whatever that meant, according to Aunt Petunia.

He grinner at her and she surprised him when she took a step back in fear. He filled that for later too. "Oh? I didn't notice, though, I'm glad it grew back," said Harry happily before he picked up the knife and bread he had dropped. He threw the dirty bread into the trashcan and washed the knife so he could use it to continue spreading butter on the bed.

Under the horrified eyes of Petunia Dursley, Harry continued to cook breakfast, humming a happy tune.

XXXXXXXXXX

"What is the meaning of this, boy?!"

"Those are my grades, Uncle Vernon. I was in the top of my class."

Vernon Dursley skin became purple with rage. "It's impossible that you managed to get better grades than our Dudley! You must have cheated somehow!"

Harry gave Vernon an incredulous look, silently asking him if he was stupid. "I didn't cheat! I study every day and I always do my homework. Dudley just lazes around and bullies everyone else! Obviously, I'm getting better grades than him!"

Vernon roared and smacked him over the head, sending him to the floor with a pained yelp. "Stop spewing lies boys!" He seethed, his face going from purple to blue in his rage. He picked Harry up by the scruff of his neck and dragged him to his cupboard, where he shoved him in. "You will be confined here for the next week, with only water and bread to eat once a day as punishment!"

Harry grabbed his head where he had been hit, sobbing and seething as it throbbed with pain. His uncle was a big man, in every sense of the world, and his hits hurt. Not like he seemed to care since he took every chance to hit him. Luckily, he never took it too far for whatever reason. Harry was thankful for that, since he feared for his life every time Uncle Vernon got angry for some stupid reason and blamed Harry.

A few minutes later, the throbbing pain dulled enough that Harry stopped crying and he glared at the door. If Uncle Vernon refused to see the truth then Harry didn't care. He was still going to be getting the best grades he could because he wasn't about to hold himself back so his pampered pig of a cousin could feel better about himself. He was still going to do his best at school. If Uncle Vernon continued to believe that he cheated, then it was his problem for being such a daft moron.

His only worry was that he would punish him like this every month his grades were delivered to them. He refused to talk to the teachers, since thy proved to be ineffective whenever he asked for help about his home life. It was weird, and extremely suspicious, since they could help him just fine with any other thing. Sadly, he couldn't do anything about it because he was just a kid. But he hoped the situation could be solved soon.

Anyways, Harry refused to be worse than Dudley, just because his evil relatives wanted him to do so, and he decided that he could take the confinement punishment. They wouldn't bother him and he could study and read all he wanted without his cousin bothering him. His real worry was the lack of food. He had enough common sense to deduce that only having water and bread for once a day was bad for the health, and he refused to let his relatives harm him more than he did.

It took him a few minutes more, the pain coming from his head was mostly gone, to get an idea. He decided to smuggle a few snacks everyday into his 'room' just before the day the reports were sent. That way, if he hid the snacks well enough, he could have something to eat while in here. He was not going to let the Dursley's starve him when they already did so much to him. Sadly, he was going to starve this week, but he promised himself that it was going to be the first and last time it happened.

A month passed and the days preceding the reports Harry smuggled bottles of juices, crackers, sweets and cans of jam into his cupboard, where he hid them under and behind his med. His room was always dark, which helped hide the food. Thankfully his relatives never ventured inside, so he was safe to hide as much food as he wanted as long as it wasn't in plain sight from the door.

Finally, the day of the report arrived, and just like he expected, Vernon roared for him with a purple, angry face as he waved his report card around. "You cheated again, boy?! Don't you learn?! And don't you dare lie!"

Harry glared at him, making Vernon recoil slightly in fear, which Harry also filled in for later. "Those are my grades and I earned them fair and square by putting the effort Dudley doesn't," said Harry firmly. "You can ask the teachers if you want to see the truth for yourself."

Vernon turned blue. "That's it!" Roared Vernon before he smacked Harry on the head and shoved him into the cupboard, bellowing the same punishment terms as the last month when this happened.

Amidst the pain and tears, Harry smiled, though many would classify his expression as a triumphant smirk.

XXXXXXXXXX

"There's the freak! Get him!"

Harry only needed to hear the aggressive and annoying voice of his cousin to jump to his feet from where he was sitting, reading a book which he tucked in between his arm and torso, and bolted. He could hear Dudley and his gang of bullies screaming insults at him but he paid them no mind and continued to run. He was used to be insulted so it was easy to ignore them.

Dudley had not agreed with Harry's refusal to do worse than him and had taken upon himself to make Harry's life miserable. He made sure that no one became his friend by bullying and tormenting those that attempted to. And lastly, he had taken to play what he referred as 'Harry Hunting', with his friends. Harry wasn't amused and was quickly growing annoyed by it.

He couldn't confront Dudley and his goons since they surpassed him in numbers and if that wasn't enough, they were all taller than him by a few inches. His only saving grace was that he was faster than almost all of them except for Pierce Polkins, who matched his running speed. Because of this, Harry usually got away before they beat him up, but there were a few times where he had been caught and kicked and punched all over his body.

That needed to stop, but Harry couldn't think of a permanent solution. Dudley didn't bully him in school, as the few times he had attempted to do so had ended up with him being punished by the teachers. Nor he did so in the house since Harry spent all the time in his cupboard, which Dudley refused to even approach.

The thing is that Harry loathed to depend on others, much less the Dursley's, whenever he wanted to solve an issue about himself since over and over those he sought for help failed him and everything he had managed to do in order to make his life a little easier and more bearable was because he had taken matters into his own hands. Because of this, Harry knew that the only way he could get things done was for him to do them himself.

Harry felt Pierce nearing him and he quickly realized that he was not going to reach the house in time to lock himself up in his cupboard, where he would be left alone. As he ran, Harry wished with all of his might to be somewhere else, somewhere were Dudley, or anyone else, wouldn't find him. As he rounded a corner, Harry felt a weirdly familiar tingling on the back of his head and more weirdly familiar sensation spreading through his body.

Suddenly, his perception turned to mush and all of his senses screamed in discomfort as he felt like his body was being sucked through a straw. Then, as soon as it happened it stopped, and Harry was left kneeling, feeling nauseous and panting with his face colored a disgusting green.

"What in… the bloody… hell… was that?"

Harry groaned as his desire to throw up receded slowly, thankful for the fact that he had eaten a few hours ago and there was nothing in his stomach which could be thrown back out. He noticed the book he had been reading was a few feet away from him and he stood up in order to get it, but when he did so, he noticed a particular detail. He was not in the sidewalk of this street, but rather in one of the rooftops of said street.

His eyes widened and he quickly picked up his book and peered over the edge of the roof. He caught a glimpse of Dudley and his gang looking around the opposite side of the street from where he was. He made sure he remained unseen until the finally got fed up with looking for him and walked away to do what bullies did on their free time, whatever that was.

Harry sighed in relief and sat on the rooftop for a second, collecting his thoughts.

'Did I just teleport here?' Harry thought.

That was the only explanation he could come up with. One moment he had been on the corner opposite of where he was and the next one he was on this rooftop. He was also aware of the fact that he had wished to be somewhere else before he 'teleported' and he was also aware of the tingling sensation on the back and the unnatural but comforting warmth, which for some reason where familiar to him, that enveloped his body before it happened.

This wasn't the first nor the second time something weird had happened around him. The first time had been when Petunia had cut his hair and it had grown back by the next morning. The other time was when the hair of a teacher disappeared after he angered him for accusing him of something he had not done. This was the third time something inexplicable happened around him.

'Hm, I think I can also chalk this up to me being 'one of them'. But what about that tingling and warmth? And why did it feel so familiar?' There was no denying now that Harry wasn't normal, as he clearly had some kind of power. Maybe, Petunia and Vernon knew about it and it was the reason they hated him. It certainly would explain Petunia's horrified expression when she noticed his hair was back and the two-weeks-long punishment Vernon had forced on him after the incident with the teacher.

With their obsession with being normal, it made sense that they hated him for being different and having this power. Knowing this gave Harry a sense of closure and all the anger and hate he felt for the Durley's slowly began to bleed away to give space for complete and utter apathy. Now that he knew the reason for their hate, Harry felt that the Durley's were only worth the roof, food and education they reluctantly provided.

'Maybe… maybe I can use this to my advantage.' That much was obvious. He had red enough comics, which he had taken for himself when Dudley threw them away, to know that when one had power, one needed to learn to control it. His own power apparently was tied to his emotions and what he wanted, according to this incident and the one with the teacher. He deduced that what happened to his hair could be counted as well since he had not wanted to go to school with his hair like that.

That moment, Harry decided to start experimenting with his newfound power. He didn't know how long it was going to take him to master it but he was resolute to put as much time as he could into getting control of it. And also, he promised himself, that when mastered his powers, he would teach the Durley's not to mess with him anymore. He didn't care about them whatsoever but they were still going to be treating him badly. And as long as that continued, which he knew it would, the desire to give them a lesson would stay with him.

"But first," muttered Harry as he stood up. "I need to find a way down."

XXXXXXXXXX

Dudley smiled with glee as he and his friends continued to kick and punch the defenseless dog that was curled up in the floor, whimpering in pain.

They were in one of the many parks that could be found in Surrey, specifically in a part of the park that he knew was very rarely frequented, meaning that he and his friend could get away with some fun without being found out by adults. While it wasn't his freak of a cousin, this mutt would do until they could get their hands on the freak.

He didn't know why he hated and wanted to inflict as much pain and suffering on his cousin, but he had seen his parents do it so he decided that it was the right thing to do. He bullied him every chance he got to do it, though he had to stop when he was punished too many times in school. He would also like to torment him while in the house but the freak never left his cupboard, and his mum and dad always told him to never go in there.

He had devised to game of Harry Hunting to get revenge on him for getting better grades than him and to get his friends on the fun, and they had eagerly agreed to play. Sadly, and he loathed to admit it, the freak was fast and smart and he managed to lose them more times than not, and when they caught up to him they could only rough him up a bit before an adult came and separated them. But in the past months things have changed and it made him feel uncomfortable.

He only saw the freak at breakfast, at school and at dinner. Outside of those times, the freak was nowhere to be seen. When he spoke to his mum and dad, they told him that he was likely on the library or on his room, which angered Dudley, since he didn't dare to go to the library and the freaks room was prohibited to him, which he understood since the freakishness could be contagious.

Dudley and his gang laughed as they continued to beat on the dog and jus when Dudley decided to stomp on his head something hard smacked him on the face and he gave a high-pitched yell of pain as he dropped to the ground. He heard his friends also yelping in pain and the sound of flesh being smacked by something hard. He caught a glimpse of a small, gray and red blur from the corner of his eyes but when turned his eyes to follow it there was nothing.

He groaned, tears dripping from his eyes as he felt his right cheek wet, warm and pulsing with pain. He heard the dog whimper again before it shot to its feet and ran away into the woods of the park. But Dudley didn't pay attention to that as he put his on his cheek, only to wince when it pulsed painfully. He pulled his hand back and his beady eyes widened when he saw the blood smeared on his fingers.

"Wha-what?"

He turned towards his whimpering and groaning friends only to see gashes on their cheek gushing blood. His trembled for a few seconds. What had happened? The had been just fine when all of the sudden they were attacked! That was extremely weir-

Dudley's eyes widened before his turned purple with rage. "I'll kill him!" He bellowed before he began to make his way back home as fast as he could, which wasn't much. He covered his wound with his hand so nobody could see it nor the blood. He did receive a few looks but none moved to stop him.

When he arrived at his house he opened the door and moved towards the living room, where he found his parents. "Mum! Dad! The freak this did to me!" He whined, removing his hand from his face and showing them the wound, which was more painful than anything else really.

Petunia gasped with horrified shock as she paled.

Vernon paled before he turned purple. "I'll show him!"

Vernon and Petunia led Dudley towards the cupboard under the stairs and Vernon opened the door harshly, expecting not to see the boy since he knew that Dudley had been at the park and the only way for the boy to have done this was not to be in his room when he was supposed to be.

Imagine their surprise and shock when they saw Harry sitting on his bed, reading from a book and writing on a notebook that was next to book he was reading.

He gave them a flat stare. "What?"

Vernon was almost blue as he puffed up, looking fatter because of this. "You dare harm my son!"

Harry gave Dudley a look and his eyes widened in surprise when he saw the wound on Dudley's cheek. "Oh! That looks nasty. But I didn't do it. If you weren't aware, you grounded me for the rest of the month for wanting to see a magic show on the television," said Harry, his sarcasm missed by no one.

"Watch your tone, boy!" Screeched Petunia.

Harry shrugged. "I didn't do it," he said simply before he went back to his homework, ignoring them with the ease of years of practice.

Vernon wanted nothing more than to strangle the little shite and burry his body somewhere but sadly, doing that would result on his death and the death of his family, which was something he was not going to allow. Besides, he had no prove other than Dudley's word that it had been Harry. His son didn't tell lies so it must've been him. In the end, Vernon grunted, gave the boy another warning, hateful glare before he closed the door to the cupboard.

The moment the door was closed Harry smirked victoriously as he leaned back into the wall of his 'room'. His brow furrowed for a few second sin concentration and from under his bed a bloodied stone floated out and hovered a foot away from his face. He narrowed his eyes at the stone and focused more on it for a few long seconds and suddenly, the stone disappeared as if it never had been there.

Harry's smirk only widened.

It had taken him a bit more than four months but he finally had what he considered a decent grasp of his powers. He could do four things: He could control things with his mind, he could expel a controlled force of power from his hand that pushed things back, he could make things disappear and reappear and he could teleport. His powers worked like a muscle, the more you used them the more effective they became.

For example, at first, he could only use his psychokinesis to levitate small pebbles for a few seconds, now he was capable of using a bigger rock to pummel bullies into the ground. His power push at first could only rattle a few leaves from a tree and now he was sure that he could move Vernon's car if he tried. He could only make disappear and appear really small things at first but now he could do so to his mattress.

Teleporting was the one that took him the most time to use on will and it was his most difficult skill at the moment. At first, he could only do it two times per day and he would feel incredibly lazy but with practice he had extended the amount of times to ten if he was only teleporting and he no longer felt like throwing up when he did it. And each passing week, it became easier and easier to use his powers.

Soon enough, the Dursley's will know to not mess with him.

'Hm, who would have thought? The first time Dudley tells the truth and no one believes him. How ironic.'

XXXXXXXXXX

Vernon Dursley was not an intelligent man, but he was perceptive and he could notice things that most people didn't. It was the reason why in spite of his lack of common sense and intelligence he had managed to get a decent job at Grunnings and maintain it, even though he did a slightly subpar job. There was also his sucking up to his boss but that was another story altogether.

It was this perceptive nature that allowed him to see the change the freak had underwent in the past few years.

When the freak had been brought in by that bloody old man, he had been angry. He did not want to have anything to do with the freak and his people. The stories his dear Petunia told him of them were enough to make him loathe and fear them. But when the old man had brought in the freak, explained that Petunia's sister and her husband had been killed. That they were in danger because the killer had been the leader of a sect that had somehow perished when he tried to kill the freak and now the followers of the leader were seeking revenge against anyone that was related to the Potters, which unfortunately included them. And that the only way to keep them save was to have the freak living with them, since he could power magical protection that would keep those other freaks at bay.

He had no other choice but comply.

His anger had fostered and naturally, he had taken it on the freak, since he was the cause of all of his problems. It didn't matter that they were receiving money from the old man to pay for everything the freak needed. Vernon used that money on his son, who actually deserved it on his opinion. It filled him with satisfaction to see the freak at his lowest whenever he punished him and forced him into his cupboard.

But in the past few years, he had noticed a change in the freak's demeanor. It all began when he had refused to get grades lower than Dudley. His insults and punishments seemed to not affect the freak and the starving him didn't seem to work, as the freak was the epitome of a healthy child of almost eleven years old except for that ugly scar on his forehead and his need to use glasses. That scared him, since it was likely that his freakishness was helping him, even though he was sure the freak didn't know about it.

In the past two years, however, he had noticed that he only saw the freak during breakfast and during the dinner when he prepared those meals and when it was time for his monthly punishment for getting better grades than Dudley. He spent the majority of his time inside his cupboard or out of the house until it was time for him to come back to prepare their dinner.

It worried Vernon immensely, because he could see an air of confidence and assurance around the freak the he knew he shouldn't have with the way he had been treated by them. He knew that it was the freakishness at work. He wanted nothing more than punch it out of him but he found he couldn't act the same way with him because there was something stopping him.

Fear.

Yes, Vernon wouldn't admit it to anyone one but he feared the freak, now even more because of his change. Who knew what he was capable of? Every time he was around the freak he could feel his hairs standing up all over his body and dread on the pit of his stomach. Petunia claimed that she also felt like that around him. The worse part was that the freak didn't seem to notice and acted innocent. It was maddening.

"Let's go! The zoo should be open by now!"

Vernon watched as his wife, Dudley, his friend Pierce and the freak climbed into his car. Normally, he wouldn't have taken the boy with them to celebrate Dudley's birthday, but Vernon felt like he needed to keep an eye on the freak. God knew what he would get up to if left alone.

XXXXXXXXXX

Petunia Dursley was not a nice and pleasant woman, completely unlike how tried to portray and think of herself.

In her youth Petunia had been a nice enough girl, a little vain, but nice. That changed when her sister Lily turned out to be a witch and impossibly beautiful, while Petunia continued to be normal and plain. Jealousy grew within Petunia and that jealousy soon turned into hate when Lily had married James Potter, a rich and influential member of their world, and Petunia had to marry Vernon, who was not as impressive to say the least.

She always resented Lily and she wasn't ashamed to admit to at least herself that when the news of her demise reached her, there was a deep satisfaction within her. There was also a pang of guilt and regret, but it was overshadowed by the satisfaction and those emotions were due to how close Lily and she had been in their childhood. The happiness that came with her sister's death only lasted for a few seconds as he was forced to take care of her freakish brood.

Every time she laid eyes on the freak she was reminded of everything she had desired but could never have. He had Lily's eyes and her intelligence and his father's handsome features. And if that wasn't enough, in spite of how they treated him, the freak was well-mannered when he wasn't being a sarcastic freak and he never tried to defy them. She liked to think that it was because he feared them but she doubted that. Like Vernon, she had noticed that he was too confident of himself. And like Vernon, it scared her.

"AAAAAAHHH!"

Petunia paled and her eyes widened in terror when she her Dudders screamed in horror.

She turned around only to pale even further as she saw Dudley and his friends Pierce inside the snake cage, trapped. She then noticed that the anaconda was out. She wached as the anaconda slithered towards the freak, who was sprawled on the floor and was looking shocked. Her eyes widened when the snake looked at the freak in the eye, flicked its tongue and nodded at him before it continued to slither away.

"What did you do, freak?!" She screeched at him.

Harry turned towards her with eyes wide incredulity. "The hell are you talking about?! I didn't do anything! Dudley and Pierce just fell into the cage and the snake escaped somehow. How am I responsible of that? Do I have magic power of something?"

Petunia flinched and took a step back as her heart skipped a beat. She only managed to catch glint in his eyes before Vernon grabbed the freak from the scruff of his neck and began to drag him away. When she managed to calm herself, she ran to get a zoo caretaker in order to get Dudley and his friend out of the cage.

She knew that the freak had something to do with this. It was the only logical explanation, considering that she knew what his kind was capable of. And this was the last straw.

XXXXXXXXXX

Vernon shoved Harry so hard into the house that he felt to the floor and smacked his head against it.

Vernon was blue with rage. "You bloody freak! It seems like my punishments weren't enough to stop you from doing freaky things so asked for this!" He shouted before he stomped towards Harry and raised his fist to punch him.

Petunia watched, glee surging within her, as Vernon brought down his fist to strike the freak's head only for her eyes to widen when the freak disappeared from the floor and appeared standing next to the door of his cupboard, a scowl on his face and his emerald eyes glinting.

She paled as horror griped her.

"Enough," said Harry and he raised his hand and made grasping motion in Vernon's direction. Vernon only had time to pale before something invisible grasped him around his throat, cutting off his access to oxygen and lifting him almost nonchalantly into the air.

As Vernon went from white to purple, but this time for different reasons, Harry looked into his eyes. "I am sick of the way you treat me, only because of these powers I have." When their eyes widened he smirked. "Oh yes, I have known about them for a few years now. You can thank Ickle Dudleykins for that," he said mockingly as he saw his cousin trembling and wetting his pants as he hid behind Petunia.

Harry scoffed in disdain. "I've been practicing, you know? Ever since I became aware of them I've tried my damnest to control them and guess what? I can control them very, very well," he said, a smirk on his face.

The terror within the Dursley grew as a knife floated from the kitchen and arranged itself until it was pointed straight at Vernon's head, who had also wet his pants and his face was colored a very pale purple.

Harry scowled. "The way you treat me ends now. The only reason you are alive is because you are so beneath me notice and caring that ruining my life because of you would be a waste. And the only reason I haven't left is because I have nowhere else to go. Because of that, why don't we try to make things easier for all of us, yes?"

Harry's scowl turned into a kind smile. "I will move my things into the room Dudley uses to keeps the toys he no longer uses. From now on, I will be only preparing my own meals. There won't be more 'punishments'. As a matter of fact, don't even talk to me. I want nothing more than to leave this place. The only thing I demand from you is that you buy me decent clothes, keep paying for my education and keep food in the house so I can eat. If you can follow those three things I promise that we are not going to have an incident like this again and I'll be out of your lives as soon as I can legally get a job."

Harry then eased his hand and Vernon, whose face was turning a pale blue, took a deep breath as he no longer was being choked. But he was still being help in the air. He screamed in pain when he was shoved against the wall and he almost shit himself when the knife that had been floating and pointed to his face was impaled into the wall right next to his face.

Harry was still smiling. "Are we clear, Vernon, Petunia?"

Dudley, trembling, cried and shat himself.

Petunia passed out.

Vernon, gripped with terror, could only shakily nod his head.

XXXXXXXXXX

The Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Minerva McGonagall, sat behind her desk leaning her aged back into the comfort of her trusty chair. There was a glass filled with fire whiskey, a favorite brand of hers, with a contemplating look in her wizened and slightly wrinkled face.

"Ah how time passes," she murmured lightly, her slightly high-pitched voice pleasant as she looked melancholic. Today was the 15th of July of 1991, almost ten years since the vanquishing of the Dark Lord Voldemort. Minerva shuddered in place as terror gripper her heart at the mere thought of that monster. Her magic responded to her distress however and she calmed down as warmth coursed through her body, comforting her.

She took a sip of her alcoholic beverage and swirled it around, a mournful look on her face. Those had been very dark times. The Dark Lord bathed with terror the magical and muggle lands of Britain for many years and that was something that will always stay within the hearts of those who lived through that time period and were still alive to tell the stories of how they lived constantly with the fear of even thinking the name of the dreaded Dark Lord.

Minerva chuckled bitterly. "And yet, it was a babe who saved us all from him."

Minerva recalled that night vividly. How Albus had frantically come into her quarters to tell her that Potter Manor in Godric's Hollow was being attacked, how they had stormed into the violated house to first see James' dead body slumped against the wall, how they had gone up the stairs and into one of the rooms to see Lily's also dead body on the ground next to a black robe and finally how the green eyes of Lily stared at her, glowing slightly, from the upset and crying face of Harry James Potter, a brightly glowing scar in the shape of a lightning bolt clearly on his forehead.

The worn and weary Deputy Headmistress chuckled bitterly as she finished her beverage. "And to this day I don't know how you convinced me that leaving him with them was the safest option, Albus," she said with a scoff as she filled back her glass.

After the news of Sirius' betrayal reached them, Albus had decided that Harry would be safest in the muggle side of Britain with Lily's direct sister, who was aware of magic but couldn't use it. Minerva knew what kind of people they were and what kind of relationship Petunia had with her sister and that was why she had vehemently objected on leaving Harry there but Albus had made a convincing and logical point and his promise of setting wards around the house had sealed the deal.

The past ten years thoughts of Harry were a constant for Minerva, and how could she not think about his wellbeing? James had been her favorite student, prankster and bullying tendencies being taken into account and she had been rather close with Lily, who was the most brilliant witch of her generation. She had wanted many times to check on Harry, but Albus' orders of wanting to keep the boy ignorant about the magical world, for Harry's protection the Headmaster had claimed, and her own duties inside and out of school prevented that.

A small, happy smile grew on her face and her eyes shone with barely repressed happiness. "But finally, the time has come for him to come to Hogwarts," she reminded herself eagerly as she took another sip from her drink.

She had personally written and sent his acceptance letter. She had been very happy when she had seen his name on the Book of Students appearing and next to it the very specific address of where he lived. She was glad when he saw that he was living in a normal room, instead of the attic or, Merlin forbid, a cupboard under some. She wouldn't put it above the Dursleys to do something like that.

His response would be arriving anytime now and the past days she had been sure to spend as much time as she could inside her office, where responses to the acceptance letters were directed. She had already received many responses and had introduced a few muggles to the Wizarding world, but the one she was looking forward to the most was of course Harry Potter. It was the least she could for James and Lily, who sacrificed their lives and quite possibly the happiness of their child for the sake of others who never thanked them.

She perked up when she saw a brown school owl flying through the window of her office and she hurriedly stood up from her chair and walked towards the amused looking owl, who stretched its leg, presenting a white rolled parchment of sheet. Minerva took it from the owl and absently used her wand to direct some treats towards it as she opened the letter and began to read. She was pleased and surprised at the neat and legible handwriting that greeted her and even more at whom had sent the letter.

Dear Professor McGonagall,

I must admit that if it weren't for the fact that I had been aware of the strange powers I had for a few years now I would've burned this letter and thought of it as a joke.

I also have to admit that it surprised me that these powers of mine are actually magical in nature because I thought they were some kind of mutation in my genes or something similar. It took me some time to get the hang of them but I believe I've barely scratched the surface of what I can do if there is a school solely dedicated to cultivating and refinement of magic.

I am very eager to attend this school and I wish to learn more about magic and everything that can be done with it. My relatives have already approved of me going to Hogwarts and I am eagerly waiting for a more personal introduction.

Yours truly,

Harry Potter.

With wide eyes Minerva reread the letter and she couldn't believe what her eyes were telling her. Harry was already aware of his magical power and apparently knew how to control it wandlessly somehow. And if his words were true, and Minerva was inclined to believe him because he had no reason to lie, then that meant that Harry Potter had more magical potential than anyone that had been recorded in recent history.

She also noticed how he called the Dursley's his relatives and how it was him who responded and not Petunia nor Vernon and that worried her.

She was about to call for the Headmaster but she stopped before shaking her head. Albus had made a mistake in leaving Harry with the Durley's and there was nothing she could've done about it. But now there was something she could do and must do to correct that mistake, because it was her duty as Deputy Headmistress. With a resolute nod of her head, she pocketed her wand and walked outside of her office.

XXXXXXXXXX

The doorbell suddenly rang, startling the Dursley family who were not expecting any guests.

Petunia was about to stand up to get the door but she paled when she saw her nephew looking at her from the door that separated the main hallway of the house and the living room. "It's for me. Don't bother. I will be back in the evening."

He paid her no further mind and answered the door. There was a formidable looking woman standing there and the only thing that betrayed her age were the wrinkles on her face and the strands of gray hair that could be seen as her head was covered by a pointed hat. She was also wearing black robes with red and gold accents.

The woman smiled at him. "Mister Potter, I presume."

"Yes," answered Harry with a nod. "Professor McGonagall?"

"I'd like a word with your Aunt and Uncle before we depart, Mister Potter."

The strained smile Harry gave them didn't bode well. "Oh, there might be a problem with that, Professor. They haven't been very responsive since my Hogwarts letter arrived. The look very scared. I think they fear magic or something. I don't think it would be a good idea if a someone as impressive as you faced them. I doubt they'll take it well. Though I promise the have allowed me to attend Hogwarts."

Feeling flattered, Minerva peered into his emerald eyes She was reminded of Lily, both in their color and the intelligence and conviction they held. She smiled. "If that's the case then we must make haste, Mister Potter. We have much to do and not enough time."

Harry's smile was more genuine now. "Lead the way, Professor."

XXXXXXXXXX

"You mentioned in your letter that you have been aware of your magic for quite some time now, but that you weren't aware of their true nature. I'm concerned, Mister Potter. You could've hurt yourself while experimenting unsupervised with them," said Minerva, her voice stern but gentle.

Harry teared his eyes away from the Nimbus 2000 that was on display and smiled disarmingly at the teacher. "Yes. I became aware of them when I found myself on top of a rooftop after escaping from my cousin and his gang when they were tormenting me."

Minerva paused and looked at him with wide blue eyes. "Your first bout of accidental magic was apparition?!" She asked, her voice shrill. She thanked her foresight of putting all kinds of privacy charms on Harry and her, otherwise they would've been swarmed by now.

Harry tilted his head. "Apparition? So that's what you call teleporting, huh?" To be honest, he found it silly. While you did apparate on a new place when you teleported, the term only covered that part of the action. To teleport also covered the fact that you weren't in the original place you started anymore.

Hence, Teleportation was more apt a term than Apparition.

Minerva blanched. "You can apparate wandlessly?!" Her voice was now incredulous.

Harry chuckled nervously. "Erm, yes?" His voice was slightly unsure. "At first it was hard and I could only do it two times per day. Now I can do it pretty much as many times I want. I can do other things too. I can use my magic to control things with my mind. I can send a force of magic that pushes things back depending on the amount of magic I use. And I can make things appear and disappear out of thin air. Making things appear is way more difficult, though."

Minerva's jaw was seemingly unhinged.

Harry Potter, without knowing about magic, was capable of Apparition, a form of levitation she had never heard of, conscious and adjustable magical flares and Conjuration and Vanishment. She didn't know of any adult wizard who could do that. It was unprecedented, but it she suddenly felt giddiness she hadn't felt since her own time at Hogwarts. Harry Potter's talent and potential was more than what she could've imagined and in that moment, she decided that it just couldn't go to waste.

She composed herself and gave him a stern look. "While that is extremely impressive, and unheard of, I suggest you keep those abilities to yourself for now, Mister Potter. Using magic in muggle areas is prohibited to minors by law and doing so could earn you life sentence in Azkaban. You do not want to go there, I assure you. You are in luck that the Ministry of Magic can keep track of wandless magic. Also, Apparition is illegal unless you are an adult and have a license for it."

Harry didn't like the sound of that. "Students can't use magic in the mundane world?" He didn't like the word muggle. He thought it insulting.

Minerva nodded sharply.

"And can it be used in magical communities by minors?"

"Yes."

Harry frowned deeply. "So, you are telling me that I won't be able to practice using magic out of Hogwarts, but student that live in the magical side of our Britain have that luxury. That's… unfair." He really wanted to use another word, but he thought it unpolite to do so in front of a professor.

Minerva sighed. "Most unfortunately, Mister Potter. Magical Britain is ruled by the referred as Pureblooded Families: wizards and witches that had have magical generations continuously for hundreds of years. Sadly, most of those families have a deep disdain for muggleborns, first generation witches and wizards, and half-bloods, children birthed from a pureblood and a muggle or a muggleborn, who are extremely disliked by the way."

Harry scowled, not liking the implications. "Then I will likely be bullied by those so-called purebloods since I am a muggleborn, right?" He was starting to regret accepting to come to Hogwarts. He wasn't going to change one hell for another. Not when he had thought that he was escaping the first one.

Minerva's eyes widened, recognizing the tone. "Most certainly not, Mister Potter!" She exclaimed. "You are not a muggleborn, but rather a half-blood. You father was James Potter, Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter, one of the most prominent magical families of our society. And your mother was Lily Evans, a muggleborn that was easily the most brilliant and formidable witch of her generation. And there is your not-insignificant fame to consider."

Harry's eyebrows disappeared into his messy hair. "My parents were wizards?! The Dursley's told they were drunks who died in a car crash and that it was how I got this scar. And what do you mean when you say, 'my fame'?"

"Drunks… car crash… I'll turn them into fish and feed them to a cat…" Minerva muttered angrily before she got a hold of her indignation and anger and focused on the bewildered young man. "Indeed, Mister Potter, your parents were the quite formidable wizard and witch. Your father was an Auror, a police wizard if you would, and had a talent for Transfiguration that surpassed my own. And there wasn't anything your mother couldn't do with a wand. She was that brilliant."

Harry smiled, feeling warm inside, glad that his parents weren't how the Dursley portrayed them. "And what about my 'fame'?"

Minerva grimaced. "That's…. not as pleasant, Mister Potter. The death of your parents is directly related to your fame," she said, voice sorrowful. "During Hallowe'en, ten years ago, the Dark Lord Vo-Voldemort, who had been terrorizing magical and muggle Britain for years, attempted to murder you and your parents since James and Lily opposed him. Nobody knows exactly what happened, but that night Voldemort killed your parents and when he attempted to kill you the Unblockable Killing Curse, you were left with that scar and the only trace of the Dark Lord were his robes. Most believe him dead, but I believe he was weakened and has spent all this time scheming and waiting to regain his strength."

Harry felt a pang of sadness but it was overshadowed by the anger he felt. "Why would he attempt to kill me? I was just a baby."

Minerva shook her head. "Nobody knows, Mister Potter. The Dark Lord was known to be insane and his reasoning didn't make sense at the best of times. What is known is that only person alive who has ever survived the Killing Curse, which is why you are known across Britain as the Boy-Who-Lived. Your appearance is quite known and the only reason we aren't being mobbed right now is because of the several privacy charms I casted on us."

Harry scowled. "I am the Boy-Who-Lived because my parents didn't, huh?" He ignored Minerva's wince. "If I am the son of the head of a pureblood family, why was I raised by muggles?"

"The Dark Lord had followers, and they were seeking revenge for what happened to their leader." She then gave him an apologetic look. "Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts and leader of the organization that directly opposed the Dark Lord, took you to your relatives since in the muggle world you would be protected by anonymity and wards designed to prevent any wizard and witch with harmful intent from finding and entering the house. I… I… tried to convince him to not do it, since I knew how Petunia and Vernon viewed us, but Albus didn't listen and left you there, claiming that it was the safest place for you."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "And what kind of authority has Headmaster Dumbledore over me to make such decisions?"

"He is your magical guardian."

"Who named him that?"

"Magic itself. When a wizard or a witch who is a minor become aware of their magic in Britain, the acting Headmaster of Hogwarts is given magical guardianship over them until they are adults. Normally this only applies to muggleborns, but since your parents were killed and there wasn't anyone willing to take you in for fear of the Dark Lord's followers…"

"He became my magical guardian," finished Harry. "So, the wizards and witches of Magical Britain adore me for stopping a Dark Lord, who also killed my parents by the way, but are unwilling to offer me asylum in fear of retaliation from the followers of said Dark Lord. And if that isn't enough, the Headmaster of the school I'm not so sure I want to attend anymore, who is supposed to assure my wellbeing, left me in a place where he knew it was likely that I was going to be abused." He peered into Minerva's eyes sharply. "You are not doing a good job in convincing me to assist Hogwarts, Professor."

Minerva winced again. "I am well aware of it." Her eyes sharpened and she gazed at him intently. "However, I refuse to not have you aware of the new world you might be entering, Mister Potter. I owe your father and mother no less. You are the Boy-Who-Lived. You are the son of a prominent Pureblood House. There is a lot you must live up to and I vehemently refuse to keep you unware of our flaws." She then grasped his shoulder and smiled. "You have a lot of potential, Harry. More than anyone I have ever met, tp be completely honest. I'd hate to see it go to waste, but I will not risk your life if I can help it."

Harry saw the earnest sincerity in her eyes and nodded. "Thank you, Professor McGonagall." He smiled. "You don't know how much I appreciate you being honest with me. All my life I have been lied to. I… I… thank you." Minerva didn't know it, but she had just earned Harry Potter's trust.

"Anytime, Mister Potter. Anytime."

Harry inclined his head and they walked through Diagon Alley's busy streets, dodging frantic wizards and witches, for a few seconds in silence before Harry asked another question.

"What happened to the followers of the Dark Lord? Is it really safe for me to come here?"

Minerva nodded slowly. "Of course, Mister Potter. The followers of the Dark Lord that willingly supported him were apprehended and are now serving life in Azkaban. There were others who were under the Imperius Curse, a dark spell that allows you to take control completely over a person. Those were quickly investigated and found innocent and they have proved to be upstanding members of our society."

"Hm." Harry wasn't entirely convinced but he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, since she had been honest with him. He smiled at her. "If that's the case then I will attend Hogwarts. Magic fascinates me and I want to find out everything that can be done with it. I feel like I have barely scratched the surface of what I can do with it."

Minerva returned the smile. "Then let us head to Gringotts Bank so you can get your galleons in order to buy your school supplies."

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion. "Galleons? Is that the currency in the magical side of Britain?"

Minerva just smiled as they neared a crooked building made of marble, gold and silver.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Harry James Potter?"

Harry shifted from side to side nervously. "Erm, yes?"

"We of Gringotts Bank have been trying to contact you for almost one year without success. Our eagles weren't able to find you, which is worrying since there are a few things that can prevent a Gringotts's eagle from finding its target."

Harry turned towards the bewildered Minerva before he focused on the goblin, who looked ready to eat him whole. "Well, that is, I have been living with my muggle relatives ever since my parents died. I was told that Headmaster Dumbledore put… wards, yes, wards around the house to protect me from being targeted by the followers of the Dark Lord. Could they have interfered somehow?"

The goblin snarled. "Of course not! Mere protection wards cannot prevent a Gringotts' eagle from reaching you. If you could provide us with the address to where you have been living in the past ten years, we could conduct a thorough investigating on this 'protection wards' and determine if they were interfering or not."

Harry smiled. "Of course. Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey."

"Thank you."

Minerva coughed into her hand. "Excuse me, Master Teller, would it be possible for Mister Potter here to get access to his trust vault so he can extract the money he needs to buy his school supplies? She asked politely. Unlike most wizards and witches, she respected the goblins and feared their tendency to poke things with pointy and sharp things.

"Do you have his key?"

Minerva reached into her robes and produced a golden key. "I do."

"Give it to him. When Harry James Potter finishes his business with us, he will have the opportunity to extract his galleons."

Minerva looked confused for a moment before her eyes shone with realization. "Oh! Of course. How silly of me to forget about that," she said with a chuckle before she handed a nervous Harry they key to his trust vault. "Don't worry, Mister Potter, You are not in trouble. Remember that I told you that you were a member of one of the most prominent families in magical Britain?"

"Yes?"

"This probably has to do with that, am I correct?"

The goblin nodded sharply.

Minerva smiled and put a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder. "See. Don't need to be nervous. Now, I have my own business to conduct here. I will tend to those while you solve your own here. We will meet at the entrance of the bank, understood?"

Harry nodded, pocketing the key. "Yes, ma'am."

Minerva gave his shoulder a light squeeze, before she inclined her head to the goblin and walked away to talk with another teller.

"Follow me, Harry James Potter."

Harry nodded at the goblin, who proceeded to lead him further into the bank. They reached a decorated hallway that was decorated with what looked like mahogany, rubies and sapphires incrusted along the length of the walls. There was also a red velvet carpet on the floor.

They eventually reached a door made of darkish brown wood. The goblin nocked on the door a few times and stepped back. When the door was opened, a goblin that looked more savage than the one that was leading him appeared from behind the door, wearing a stylish green tuxedo that somehow suited him.

They began to talk gibberish for a few seconds before the first goblin pointed at him. The eyes of the other goblin focused sharply on him and Harry shifted nervously again. Eventually, the tuxedo-wearing goblin spoke more gibberish to the first one, nodded at him and dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

Harry nodded at the goblin, who was leaving. "Erm, thank you, Master Teller."

The goblin grinned. "May your pockets be forever filled with galleons, Harry James Potter," he said before walking away.

Harry turned towards the tuxedo wearing goblin, who grinned nastily at him, before beckoning him into the room. Harry, feeling like he was going to be eaten, had no other choice but to enter. He found the office to be stylish and practical, but no ostentatious, which spoke well for the goblin that used it. He took a seat in one of the comfortable timber and padded chairs and watched as the goblin hoped into his leather one.

"The situation has been explained to me, Harry James Potter. You can relax. You have not offended us nor are you in any danger from us."

Harry thought his grin implied otherwise. "That's good, I guess?" He said unsurely before he did his best to get comfortable and relaxed his postures. "The Master Teller said that I had business with Gringotts."

The goblin nodded. "Ah, yes. But before we get to that, I'd like to confirm your identity through magical methods. I doubt Minerva McGonagall would bring an imposter, nor do I think an imposter would be able to fool her, but these procedures cannot be skipped." The goblin reached into his desk and produced a very sharp knife incrusted with many gleaming gems and a piece of paper. "You must prick your index finger of your dominant hand with that knife and let exactly seven drops of blood to fall on the parchment. The knife is enchanted to close the wound after you turn your hand palm up."

Harry nodded in understanding and he used the knife to prick himself on the index finger of his right hand and let seven drops of blood to fall on the parchment before he turned his hand palm up and he saw the small wound close instantly.

Harry set the knife back on the table and he watched as the droplets of blood disappeared into the parchment without dirtying it and a second later, words began to appear. Harry saw a genealogical tree appearing and he saw weird words such as Peverell and Stinchcombe next to right on the top before Potter began to appear.

He trailed the tree down until he found his parent's names, his father's name under Charlus Potter and Dorea Potter nee Black, and smiled before he looked further down until he saw his name and blinked at the words beneath them.

Harry James Potter

Heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter

The goblin grinned as he picked up the parchment. "This confirms your identity, Heir Potter. My name is Sharpclaw Bloodspiller, and I am the manager for the Gringotts Vaults of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter. Our meeting might be one year late, because of circumstances out of our control, but better late than never, as you humans are so fond of saying."

Harry extended his hand grabbed the clawed hand of Sharpclaw, shaking it firmly. "Pleased to make you acquittance, Mister Bloodspiller. That's one bloody wicked name, I have to admit," commented Harry.

Sharpclaw's grin widened. "Is that so? Most wizards find it barbaric."

Harry shrugged his shoulders, letting go of the goblin's hand. "Then most wizards don't know awesome when they see it," he said with a chuckle, now feeling truly relaxed after that exchange. "What does it mean for me to be the Heir of House Potter, other than the obvious, and what does it has to do with Gringotts Bank?"

"Sharp and to the point. We are going to get along well, Heir Potter," commented Sharpclaw. "Being the Heir to a Magical House, obviously, means that you will inherit and become the owner of everything that is on the name of that House, which includes Gringotts Vaults, seats in the Wizengamot if the House is entitled one, which yours certainly is, properties, magical artifacts, contracts and such."

Harry nodded in understanding. He wanted to ask about this Wizengamot, but Sharpclaw's earlier comment about how he liked things concise and to the point prevented that. He would either ask Professor McGonagall about it or investigate it on his own.

"The death of your father, the previous Lord of House Potter, was bad for Gringotts. Since there wasn't an active Heir in when he died, the Potter Accounts were frozen, meaning that they couldn't be used for new investments and were just taking space in Gringotts. And that won't do, Heir Potter. The only reason Gringotts didn't absorb the accounts after so long is because of the special circumstances that surrounded you."

While it angered him that the goblin cared more about the money his family could produce for them than the death of his parents, Harry could understand the feeling. "I understand. That means that you need me to claim Heirship for House Potter in order to activate the accounts so the money in them can be used, am I right?"

"Yes."

"How do I do it?"

"Say this: I, Harry James Potter, do hereby accept the Heirship to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter, so I say and by my magic and life so mote it be."

Harry nodded his head. "I, Harry James Potter, do hereby accept the Heirship to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter, so I say and by my magic and life so mote it be." He felt quite silly saying that, to be honest.

Suddenly, there was a flash of light that blinded Harry slightly and he felt slight weight settling in the ring finger of his right hand. He blinked the spot out of his eyes, eyes that widened when he saw the silver ring encrusted with an emerald that was now on his finger.

"What is this?"

Sharpclaw, who was going through documents that weren't there before gleefully, responded absently. "That's the Potter Heir Ring. It identifies you as the rightful Heir of the House and next in line for Lordship. Also, it protects you against mental attacks from those seeking knowledge of your House. Since becoming the official Heir usually happens when the firstborn child reaches ten years of age they haven't had time to mater Occlumency, which is the magical art of protecting and organizing the mind. Because of this, and because Heirs usually have vital knowledge pertaining to the House they belong to, Heir Rings were designed to protect the minds of those who wear them. I, however, suggest that you learn Occlumency yourself since one's mind could never be too protected."

"Right. This is bloody wicked," whispered Harry as he looked at the beautiful ring, noticing that the emerald shifted its tone as he looked at it from different angles. After admiring the ring for a few seconds longer he turned towards Sharpclaw. "What do you have there?"

"These are the documents that detail everything to do with all the vaults that belong or are related to House Potter," he answered promptly, savage grin wide. "Currently, I have management of three vaults: The Main Potter House Vault, which contains exactly… 5,432,289 Galleons, 548 Sickles and 3 Knuts plus magical artifacts, property and business contracts, tomes and other precious possessions. The other vault is the Potter Heir Vault, which gives you access to 5% of the galleons contained in the Main Potter House Vault. And finally, there is thrust vault set up by your magical guardian, Albus Dumbledore, which will be filled yearly with 1000 Galleons with money coming from the Main Potter House Vault."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Why would Headmaster Dumbledore set up a thrust vault for me? I'm sure he is aware of my status as the Heir to my House, which means that he must know that I will have access to the Potter Heir Vault. And if the Main Potter House Vault was frozen, how did he set up the thrust vault to use money from the Main Vault?"

Sharpclaw shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know why Albus Dumbledore did why he did, though it is very suspicious. You also believe that the wards he put around the house you live in could've been the reason why we couldn't contact you, don't you? And frozen vault means that money directly coming from the Vault can go out of Gringotts, but money can be transferred to other vaults for those with the authority to do it."

Harry frowned. "And as my magical guardian, Headmaster Dumbledore has the authority to do that, right?" The goblin nodded. "How convenient. What can Headmaster Dumbledore, as my magical guardian, do with the Potter Vaults?"

"He can transfer a extremely limited amount of money from the Main Vault to another vault as long as the vault is related the owner of the main vault. Other than that, there is nothing he can do. But since he set up the thrust vault, he has unrestricted access to that vault."

"Has there been any extraction from that vault in the past ten years?"

"… There have been two. One three years ago to pay a complete Hogwarts tuition and another one of 1500 Galleons for 'personal purposes'. Currently, your thrust vault holds 6800 Galleons."

Harry scowled. "I suppose that a complete Hogwarts tuition is 700 Galleons then. Hm, when was the trust vault set up?"

"November 1st, 1981."

"Just after my parents died. I wonder, what game is the Headmaster playing at?" Harry asked himself. If he was unwilling to trust the Headmaster when Minerva told him that it was him who left him with the Dursley family, then now, after seeing what he did with the vaults of his family confirmed that Albus Dumbledore couldn't be trusted. "Sharpclaw, what can and what can't I do with the Potter Vaults?"

"Since you are the Heir you cannot extract money directly from the Main Vault, you cannot establish new investment plans, you cannot establish contracts that use the money from the Main Vault and you cannot set up accounts that are filled with money from the Main Vault. You can, however, do whatever you want with the Heir Vault and the thrust vault."

Harry smiled. "In that case, I want all the money that enters the thrust vault to be put into the Heir Vault, only leaving 1000 Galleons at all times in case the Headmaster needs to make another extraction. I don't know what game he is trying to play, but I want to find out. I don't trust him. Are you obligated to tell him about my status?"

Sharpclaw shook his head. "It will be done, Heir Potter. And no. Nor can he become aware of it magically since magical guardianship is unrelated to heirship and lordship of magical families."

Harry nodded. "Good." He then smiled. "Sharpclaw, as the manager of the Potter Accounts, what can you do with them?"

Sharpclaw's grin paid homage to his last name. "Anything."

Harry shared the grin. "Excellent. How much is a galleon, a sickle and a knut in comparison with themselves and UK pounds?"

"A galleon is worth is 17 sickles and a sickle is worth 29 knuts. One galleon equals 4.93 UK pounds."

Harry did a rough calculation on his head and he grin widened. "I don't know about you, Sharpclaw Bloodspiller, but I think this is the start of a beautiful and fruitful partnership."

Sharpclaw laughed roughly. "Likewise, Harry James Potter, likewise."

XXXXXXXXXX

"You took more time than what I expected. I thrust that all of your businesses with Gringotts have been solved and…" She noticed the satchel that rested on his hip and was wrapped around his torso. "Is that a mokeskin pouch?"

Harry smiled widely at Minerva. "I apologize, Professor. The meeting went on for longer than I expected but I believe that I managed to resolve everything that I could so today." Harry's smile became strained. "And yes, this is a mokeskin pouch. Gringotts provided me one for the 'insignificant and totally reasonable amount of 200 Galleons'."

Minerva chuckled. "Goblins are nasty, greedy and cunning creatures. It would be unwise to make enemies out of them."

Harry snorted. "I figured." He then looked at Minerva. "Um, Professor, can I ask a favor?"

"Of course."

"I'm sure you know what happened here and I'd like if Headmaster Dumbledore wasn't informed."

Minerva peered at him for a second before nodding slowly. "I understand if you don't thrust him for what he did, Mister Potter. Albus might have a tendency to keep things to himself, but he is a good person. I want you to keep that in mind when you deal with him in the future."

"… He used his authority as my magical guardian to set up a trust vault that used the Main Vault of my House to fill itself yearly with 1000 Galleons just after my parents died. He used it to pay my Hogwarts tuition and also extracted 1500 Galleons from it for 'personal reasons'."

Minerva recoiled slightly. "Oh."

Harry nodded, a frown on his face. "Yes. I haven't met him yet so I won't make a decisive opinion of him until we interact. But the Headmaster's action regarding me have not impressed me, Professor. To be honest, what you have done for me in the past few hours since we met should be an example of what the Headmaster should've done as my magical guardian. Instead, his actions are extremely suspicious at best."

Minerva nodded her head. "I… I… cannot refute that."

"That's why I'd like for you to keep what happens here to yourself, Professor. I trust you and I don't want to think that my trust was misplaced when you have been completely honest with me."

"I understand, Mister Potter," she said after a moment of reflection. Then she pulled out her wand and casted the privacy charms around them. She locked eyes with Harry and smiled. "I'm glad that you deemed me worthy of your trust, Harry. I was very close with your parents and knowing that I have your trust, feels me with happiness."

Harry returned the smile. "I'm glad you feel that way, Professor McGonagall."

She nodded and after a moment of deliberation she raised her wand. "I, Minerva McGonagall, swear upon my life and magic not to reveal any sensitive information about Harry James Potter to anyone that he doesn't deem worthy of knowing that sensitive information. So I say it, so mote it be."

There was a light, seemingly unnatural breeze that ruffled their hairs and Minerva's robe. A ball of light appeared at the tip of Minerva's wand.

Harry's eyes widened. "Professor! An oath wasn't necessary! Your word was enough for me."

Minerva smiled as she put her wand away. "I know, Mister Potter. But I wanted to prove to you that your trust truly wasn't misplaced and that your secret is safe. To be honest, I don't know why Albus had done what he has done in the past ten years, and it does not bode well for me. Because of that uncertainty, I agree to keep everything sensitive that happens here to myself."

Harry didn't know what to say so he just smiled and nodded.

"Good. Now, let us acquire all you need for your term at Hogwarts. I believe we still have enough time to get everything done."

XXXXXXXXXX

"Preck!"

"Ollivanders?"

"Yes. All that is left is your wand, Mister Potter."

"Hm, alright. Let's go then."

"I will wait here for you, Mister Potter. The choosing of a wand is quite personal."

"Preck!"

Harry nodded. "Okay."

He had gotten his all his books and utensils at Flourish and Blotts, along with the books 'Hogwarts, A history', 'The Bodies and Departments of the Ministry of Magic' and 'The Houses of Magical Britain. The glimpse he caught on the content of the books were enough to make go back to his small room so he could read everything he could about magic and this new world he found himself in.

Hopefully, the next month and half would be the last time he spent time at the Dursley's if what he and Sharpclaw planned bore fruit.

He had gotten fitted for robes at Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Aside from a rude blond ponce full of himself treating anyone else there as if they were beneath him and threatening them with telling his father when he was almost kicked out for his attitude, the experience there was quite fun as he had enjoyed all the measurement tapes flaying around and squealing like children as they took his measurements for his robes.

Professor McGonagall had told him that the blond ponce was Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy, who was the Lord of the Noble House of Malfoy, one of the richest House in Britain and one of the most influential despite them being originally from France. Lucius Malfoy was also one of Hogwarts school governors. Harry truly hoped that not all purebloods were like him, or he might find losing his not so insignificance patience.

Living with the Dursley family had to have a few positive effects, right?

Also, he had bought a snowy white owl with the most intelligent green eyes he had ever seen. He still didn't know how to name her, but he was sure it was going to come to him soon enough. He had the uncomfortable feeling that the owl might lose her patience with him and peck him to death.

Minerva had also advised him to get a shrinkable and expandable trunk so he could easily carry everything he needed and while it had been quite expensive, not that he cared, he had gotten it and now all his belongings were secure inside his pocket.

Now it was time to get his wand. While Harry knew that a wand wasn't necessary to perform magic, Minerva had explained to him that there were things that just couldn't be done without a magical focus, and wands were the most practical and useful ones. Hence their popularity in Europe and America.

Harry stepped into the store. The first thing he saw were the many boxes that littered the store arranged both neatly and messily over rows and rows of stances that extended for as long as Harry could see. There was no one behind the counter, however.

He was about to call out for the owner but a sudden presence to his side made him turn to the around forty-five degrees and there he was. An old man with unblinking silver eyes and an excited expression on his face. Where he had come out from, he was not sure, but it disturbed him.

"Harry Potter! I have been waiting for you. It seems like yesterday when I was selling your parents their first wands." He commented in an airy and almost ethereal voice as he examined Harry with scrutiny. "Your father, James Potter, favored a Mahogany, eleven inches wand with a dragon heartstring core. Perfect for transfiguration and battle magic. Your mother, Lily Evans, however, favored a ten and a fourth inches Willow wand with unicorn hair for a core. Perfect for all kinds of magic but especially charms and enchanting."

Harry raised an eyebrow at the man as he turned around, grabbed a box, pulled out a wand and presented it to him. Harry grabbed it with a disturbed look on his face and he began to feel nervous under Ollivander's unblinking silvery stare. "What?"

"Go ahead! Give it a wave!"

Harry smiled unsurely but did as he was told.

He waved the wand he was given and he almost jumped when an entire row of boxes shot out of their stances and both him and Garrick had to duck in order to not be hit with the boxes. Ollivander snatched the wand out his hand. "Not that one!" He exclaimed before he went and picked another wand that he tentatively handed him. "Try this one."

A wary Harry waved the wand around.

The shelf exploded quite violently.

"Most certainly not!"

The next hour were spent testing what Harry was sure were all the wands that Ollivander had and while for a moment he had been completely puzzled as one specific wand -Holly, Phoenix feather core, eleven inches, nice and supple- had failed to match with him, the longer he spent testing wands the more excited the old man became.

Harry handed the wand back to an almost vibrating Ollivander and he regarded the almost completely destroyed store. "Um, sorry?" He ventured to apologize, unsure and disturbed of everything he had witnessed inside the store.

Ollivander waved him off. "Think nothing of it, Mister Potter. I prefer the tricky costumers," he said before a gleam entered his eyes and he grabbed another box. He opened it and handed harry a wand made of smooth, black wood with a grayish black handle that curved downwards. He placed it on Harry's hands. "Ebony, dragon heartstring core, ten inches. Powerful and fierce."

Harry grabbed the wand by the handle and immediately he knew this was his wand. He became aware of the 'muscle' that was his magic just by holding the wand, instead of consciously looking for it. Also, he felt as if he was more in control of his magic. As if the wand was what he had needed to be truly complete.

It felt exhilarating.

Ollivander grinned as he saw Harry take a dep breath as his powerful magic swirled around him and ruffled his hair. "I believe we found your wand, Mister Potter. That'll be 7 galleons, though for 20 more galleons I can provide a polishing kit and a dragonhide forearm holster for your wand."

Harry nodded and reached into his mokeskin pouch. "I'll take all that. And, erm…" he trailed off and looked around the destroyed store. "Wouldn't you like some payment for the damages?"

Ollivander waved him off, picked a random wand, waved it around and in a few seconds, everything was repaired and looked just like when he had come in.

Harry blinked. "Oh." The grinned. "Nice. Can you teach me how to do that?" He asked hopefully.

Ollivander laughed. "You'll learn that and more at Hogwarts, Mister Potter. I expect great things from you as it is no ordinary wizard that is chosen to wield a wand with the woods and cores that are designed to channel the most amount of power. Remember this, Mister Potter, while the wand choses the wizard, it is the wizards that uses the wand. I know you will do great things and I sincerely hope that those things are done for the good everyone."

Harry looked into Ollivander's entrancing eyes and nodded, smiling. "I promise you, Mister Ollivander, that I will do my best to live up to your expectations…"

"PRECK!"

"… if my newly acquired owl doesn't murder me in my sleep." Harry laughed nervously.

Ollivander could only laugh.

Great things indeed.

XXXXXXXXXX

"What do you think of young Harry, Minerva?"

Minerva handed him the Philospher's Stone. "He is a very bright and insightful young man. Very polite and sure of himself too. It surprised me that he was like that because of how he was treated by those people." Her voice was sharp at the end.

Inwardly, Dumbledore was worried. Outwardly, he sighed tiredly. "You know it was the only thing we could to keep him safe, Minerva. We had no other option."

"So you claim."

At the strange look she gave him, Albus was tempted to use passive Legilimency on her but he discarded the idea. Minerva's occlumency was strength enough that she would feel a passive probe to her mind and she might turn him into a chicken and roast him for dinner if she got even an inkling that he was trying to read her mind.

"How much did you tell him?"

"He knows who his parents are, he knows why he is famous, the faith of the Death Eaters that aren't dead and that it is possible that the Dark Lord is still alive."

It was more than what he would've liked but with Minerva, someone he couldn't direct as firmly as he wanted, wanting to personally introduce the Boy-Who-Lived to the Wizarding World. "Good. Nothing out of the ordinary happened during the shopping tree?"

Minerva raised an eyebrow and shook her head. "No. We went to Gringotts and got enough money from the trust vault his parents left him to buy all of his supplies. When we were finished I instructed him on everything he needed to know in order to make sure he arrived without issues at Hogwarts."

Again, more than what he wanted Harry to know. Molly would have to pick up the slack. "Good, good. I trust he didn't catch a glimpse of our little friend here, right?" He asked, patting the crimson stone that rested innocently on his desk.

Minerva rolled her eyes. "Of course not. Who do you take me for, Hagrid? While he was getting money from his vault I went retrieved it alone. He didn't even catch a glimpse of the bag it was in."

"Excellent. Thanks for your hard work, Minerva." Inwardly, he cursed. He would have to find another way to spike Harry's curiosity.

Minerva nodded her head and turned around to walk out of the Headmaster's Office, wondering if Albus' interest in Harry was just the healthy one of a concerned figure of authority for one of his future charges or if it was something more insidious.

Albus Dumbledore frowned as he looked at his Deputy Headmistress walking away after she delivered the Philosopher's Stone to him. It seemed like in his old age he forgot to take into account that people tended to change their stand on matters and act on their own or impulsively. And Minerva, true to the lion in her, had jumped at the opportunity of being the one to introduce him to the wizarding world.

He had been left with no choice as that was indeed her duty. It would've been extremely suspicious if he refused to let her go. She had even offered to fetch the stone herself. He had wanted to use Hagrid so the man's absent mind would help in making Harry curious about it but alas it was not to be.

Thankfully the boy was unaware of his true heritage according to what Minerva said.

His frown became more prominent as he recalled what she had told him about Harry Potter when he asked her about him. She had described him to be a mix of Ravenclaw and Slytherin. And that worried Albus more than he cared to admit. Harry was supposed to be all Hufflepuff with an inner and stronger Gryffindor so he could be put in that house in order for him keep the image of Beacon of the Light he had constructed for the boy in the past ten years.

But now he couldn't predict which House Harry was going to end up in.

"I believe I underestimated how much of his parents was in him," Albus mused as he fingered the red colored stone that he was going to use as bait for both Voldemort's wraith and to test Harry's willingness to put himself in harm's way for others. He needed to keep track of that disgusting spirit and he also needed to cultivate Harry's sacrificial potential so the prophecy could be fulfilled.

"I guess I'll just have to be more proactive from now on, wouldn't you say so, Fawkes?" Albus turned towards his phoenix familiar who he had tasked to giving two of his feathers as cores for the wands of Tom and Harry so he could keep track of them at all times, or at least the locations of their wands, since they were connected to Fawkes through their cores.

It had worked for Tom as he never went without his wand, meaning that Dumbledore knew where he was at all times. It was the reason why he always seemed to appear at the right time with his Order of the Phoenix to save the day. And now that Harry had a wand tied to his familiar he could keep better track of the boy.

The phoenix stared at his chosen partner of many years before it gave a thrill that sounded neutral but it was still beautiful and full of life. Dumbledore took this sound as agreement and he smiled at his familiar as he leaned back on his chair. While he hated the fact that he needed to sacrifice an innocent boy to amend for his mistakes he would gladly do so if it meant getting rid of the symbol of the Dark.

It was, after all, for The Greater Good.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Say…"

Petunia shrieked in terror as she jumped from the couch.

Dudley squealed like a pig from his position on the floor and quickly scrambled in all fours to hide behind his mother's skirt.

Vernon somehow lunched to his feet faster than what his body would suggest he could. He was turning a pale purple already.

Harry smiled kindly at them, having teleported to the living room from the backyard. "Did you know that my parents were magical like me? I was surprised to find out they weren't drunks that died in a car crash like you told me."

Petunia fainted.

Author's Notes

Please, do try to not be too harsh when reviewing. I'd like to reach my twenties without clinical depression over an internet forum, alright?

So, we have quite the different start for the Boy-Who-Lived's journey, eh? There were obvious differences, others that weren't so obvious and others that probably flew over your head and that you won't see what will result of them until further into the story.

The main differences, however, were:

Harry's early knowledge and practice with magic basic on experiences that he was forced to go through because of the Dursley's who were a bit harsher in my story than in canon.

His introduction into the wizarding world by Minerva McGonagall… which is going to have its own ramifications, ramifications that are going to please a few people, amuse some others and piss of whoever is left.

And finally, his wand. Harry grew up different, hence, he has a different mindset and thus a different wand. Ebony, Dragon heartstring, ten inches, Powerful and Fierce. According to my sources, these are the descriptions for the materials used in Harry's wand:

Ebony: This jet-black wand wood has an impressive appearance and reputation, being highly suited to all manner of combative magic, and to Transfiguration.

Dragon heartstring: As a rule, dragon heartstrings produce wands with the most power, and which are capable of the most flamboyant spells. Dragon wands tend to learn more quickly than other types. While they can change allegiance if won from their original master, they always bond strongly with the current owner. The dragon wand tends to be easiest to turn to the Dark Arts , though it will not incline that way of its own accord. It is also the most prone of the three cores to accidents, being somewhat temperamental.

Let's see what Harry can accomplish with a wand with these specifications.

As for pairings, it is going to be an Harem, but not a conventional one and not one with just Harry getting the girls so he can bang them, show them off and show his superiority over other men. No. Here everything has a meaning, and while there is going to be honest love, affection, attraction and lust in the relationships, I assure you that it is not going to be what you would expect.

The only ones I am sure off right now are: Hermione Granger, Susan Bones, Daphne Greengrass, Luna Lovegood and Fleur Delacour. I'm sure there will be others, but the ones that are sure are these five.

I believe that's all. See you next Sunday/Monday with the next chapter.