A/N I'm afraid due to circumstances regarding one of my previous stories my account was shutdown, I've decided to repost this story under a new name. Anyway I've fixed a few minor formatting problems and will have the second chapter out soon. I truly hope you will all review and enjoy my story.

Jaded Year I

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone


The rays of an early morning sun were floating through the windows of Number 4 Privet Drive. Dawn had just broken and the world seemed to be in a rare moment of tranquility and peacefulness. With a content sigh, Petunia Dursley dressed in only her bathrobe headed for the front door to retrieve the morning newspaper for her darling husband.

So per here usual routine she opened the door expecting a soft chill, and the morning newspaper patiently awaiting her on the front step. So used to the established routine it took her a few seconds to recognize that something was amiss, for waiting on the front step was a small wicker basket.

Surprise and confusion were soon replaced with annoyance as she regarded the foreign object with wariness; she reached down and carefully tried to feel out the contents of the basket. When her hand brushed against something warm and soft she instantly pulled away in alarm.

The texture was quite unmistakable to her; it was the softness that only a new born child could possess. Although the question why there was a young baby on her doorstep was something which was ringing through Petunia Dursley's mind. Yet Petunia Dursley's highly tuned snooping senses were beginning to stir, other respectable people of Little Whinging were beginning to rise and she knew they were all to nosy to keep their big fat noses from trying to discern what was happening on the Dursley's front step.

The fear of being thought to be doing something unsavory was the primary motivator for snatching up the wicker basket and hastily slamming the front door shut with a loud thud. Not even bothering to remember to grab the newspaper, Petunia strode into the kitchen and hastily deposited the basket none too gently onto the kitchen table.

"How dare you!" The outraged statement was directed at the wicker basket with a tone of outrage and accusation, no one was around to point out the ludicrousness of trying to blame a sleeping baby of any type of mal intent but still it was the only course of action Petunia could think to do.

The more Petunia did stare at the offensive basket the more her curiosity began to slowly stir, she wondered what it looked like and truly hoped no one had decided to leave a little Niger or chink on her doorstep. With a deliberate slowness she reached up and began to peal away the silk blanket.

Her face which showed a mix of annoyance and general curiosity which quickly vanished to be replaced with a disgusted horror. She immediately saw the beginnings of the baby's dark unruly ebony locks and the hauntingly familiar emerald orbs of her sister.

A surprised feeling seem to be on the edge of a tidal wave of jealousy, she had always been jealous of her sisters immense beauty, long red flaming hair and contrast by her perfect pale skin and those brilliantly green emerald orbs which were a stark contrast to Petunia's muddy earthy brown.

Despite how much Petunia wished to deny it and she valiantly did the truth just shone through plain as day, this child seemed too inherent her sisters immense beauty but in the form of a male handsomeness. Petunia knew that he would grow up to be a male version of her sister, so unnaturally good looking it would be the norm for him and he would be probably completely indifferent to it.

The injustice of it all was almost to much to bear, her darling son was cute but in a portly way and Petunia had a sneaking suspicion on he might grow up to be rather heavy set like his father. Yet here comes along her sister's child to seemingly shove into her face that even her sisters offspring would be far better looking their her own offspring.

"You filthy little rodent!" Her screech echoed throughout the house and left her feeling some what vindicated, her parents had always stopped her from insulting Lily but here no one could stop her from putting this little bastard in his proper place.

"Petunia love what's going on?" Petunia glanced over to see the familiar bulk of her large heavy set husband; his eyes scanned the room and immediately located the foreign object.

"My inconsiderate bitch of a sister and her lout of a husband have some how gotten themselves killed with their unnaturalness, and left their bastard offspring on our doorstep!" The information that her sister had been killed had been found out by reading a small note attached to the basket.

"I won't have one of those "things" infecting my son!" Vernon Dursley's face was beginning to take on a more dark purplish hue and his breathing was beginning to grow strained and erratic.

"Vernon please calm down or you'll hurt yourself." It took many minutes of coaxing from his wife before Vernon began to breathe normally, but his face still held a purplish tinge and his eyes were locked on the wicker basket.

"We can give it up, we can leave it in some alley near London but we are not keeping that thing." His voice was barely audible whisper but every syllable was filled with hate and loathing.

"Vernon we may not have a choice you don't know my sisters freakish friends, they're evil Vernon and they can do horrible unnatural things." Vernon Dursley seemed unfazed at the thought of having to deal with some wand and dress wearing fairy.

"What if they try to hurt Dudley?" It was a desperate ploy but Petunia knew it might just work, Dudley was Vernon's little pride and joy and any threat to him might force Vernon to give into his stubborn pride.

"They wouldn't dare." Yet Vernon's own voice didn't sound quite so assured as it had merely a few seconds ago, he knew those unnatural people were truly the scum of the earth and would think little about torturing such a helpless little angel like his own Dudley.

"We have to Vernon, to protect our son we must let it stay here." Petunia was inwardly jumping with joy, as her husband with slumped shoulders nodded gravely she knew it was finally time she could get revenge on her sister.

10 Years Later

It just didn't seem fair to her, had she not labored for the first few years to make sure that disgusting little ingrate stayed cleaned and healthy? Didn't she also make sure that Dudley had learned to stay as far away from his cousin as soon as possible? Hadn't she spent time to come up with brilliant plans to make that little bastard grow to be nothing but a worthless little testament to what her sister really was?

Instead her attempts at turning the child into what she wanted seemed to backfire, it first happened when she refused to allow Harry to ever watch TV unlike his cousin. Instead she bought him books in the hope of making him completely miserable at being forced to do something as boring as reading.

It had the exact opposite effect she intended or desired Harry took to books with the gusto which her son took to food. He seemed to just as intelligent as his mother but even more so, it seemed so unnatural how fast he could read through a book and remember every exact detail with perfect clarification.

She had done her best to stop her nephew from continuing to read but it seemed hopeless, Vernon didn't even want to see the boy when he was home, so he had plenty of time each night and plus Vernon was insistent she keep buying him books to keep the "freak" entertained.

So it seemed like all attempts at her keeping her nephew stupid were doomed to failure. The next injustice she felt was the fact as she predicted the boy was growing to be more handsome every year. She did everything that she could think of, she barely fed him anything and when she did feed him it was usually something quite disgusting or expired.

Yet it looked to have absolutely no effect on the boy, he appeared properly well nourished and cared for and grew at a steady pace. The most embarrassing times were when some visitors to the house actually saw the two children residing within the Dursley home.

They would always fawn over Harry and tell Petunia how handsome he was, they would of course say the same comments about Dudley but she knew they lied. She could see it in their eyes; she of course now made it a top priority to make sure the boy was never seen by guests entering her home.

So it was without a never ending feeling of injustice Petunia Dursley continued to try and destroy her nephew. Little did she know that all of her actions would have a lasting effect on young Harry.

Chapter 1

Forged By Fire

A terrible shrill like voice seemed to echo throughout the residence of Number 4 Privet Drive, the particular target of this verbal barrage was a young boy. He stood about 5'3 with bright emerald eyes and short unruly ebony hair; his features seemed to compliment his face very well and gave him a natural aura of charm.

He was currently in the midst of examining himself in the mirror with a critical eye; he had just gotten out of a long leisurely hot shower and was in the midst of observing the changes to himself. He had began to notice the changes a few months back but it seemed to be getting more pronounced with each passing month.

His shoulders were beginning to broaden and his voice also beginning to become altered, and he was also beginning to grow hair in places which quite frankly there had never been hair before. Of course he had long since found an explanation which would account for all the changes but what wondered him was the timing.

"Puberty for a ten year old?" His tone seemed to be amused and intrigued all at the same time. Harry knew that some teenagers had puberty very early but such radical changes at such a young age?

"Am I that in a hurry to shag?" The rhetorical statement caused Harry to give himself a ghost of a smile.

"Hmm… maybe it's a physiological reaction to some subconscious need of mine to reflect a maturity on the outside that I feel I have attained on the inside?" Harry was vaguely aware he was asking these questions allowed but that was just a personal quirk of his.

"Nah more likely my subconscious wants me to shag." With a soft chuckle Harry began his usual hygiene routine, after following his relatively normal routine and finishing up by styling his hair with gel Harry headed for his room down the hallway.

He might have considered it a stroke of luck his relatives had allowed him to make Dudley's toy room into his own room, but more likely it was because he had threatened to call child services. His Uncle had bellowed and blundered and called him everything under the sun but in the end he had grudgingly agreed.

So when Harry opened the door to his room he was greeted with an all too familiar but pleasant scent, it was the smell of an early morning breeze courtesy of his open bedroom window. Harry's eyes flicked over to the bedroom clock and mentally berated himself for taking so long in the shower.

It was already 6:45 and he was about ten minutes over his usual schedule, he usually got up at five every-morning to run five miles and be back in time to take a decent shower. His relatives usually didn't start rising till around seven and he preferred to be gone by then.

He quickly got dressed in a pair of faded but comfortable blue jeans and a white t-shirt, Harry's sense of style was more of his personal tastes then what was influenced by current fashion trends. He finished off the look with a dark hoody which was just a size to big for him but he liked the look.

He checked over himself one last time in the mirror before strolling out of the room and absentmindedly grabbing a duffle bag that was waiting on the edge of his bed. With a well rehearsed routine he slipped downstairs effortlessly and quietly before slipping out of the front door and beginning his usual walk downtown.

The entire walk only took about twenty-five minutes and he really didn't mind it all that much, Harry liked physical activity even the more passive kind and it gave him time to think. Mostly he just planned out what his day was going to be like and what he hoped to accomplish.

He stopped at a small placed aptly named "The Little Whinging Café", he knew the name of the café was hardly something from the mind of a literary geniuses but it suited him well enough. He strolled into his usual booth in the back where he usually enjoyed his morning breakfast.

The waitress was a welcomed familiar sight, her name was Julie and for some odd reason she always seemed to be the one who came to take his order. He didn't really mind that all that much, she was a pretty enough girl with wide brown eyes and full luscious lips that most men couldn't help but want to kiss.

"The usual Harry?" He gave her one of his rare smiles and nodded in the affirmative.

"Yeah Julie the usual please and thank you." She acknowledged his gratefulness with a smile and wink.

Harry dug into his duffle bag and searched around for a second before his hand finally landed on the spine of a particularly well worn looking small brown leather book. He pulled out the book and opened it to a dog eared page and began reading the non-English text.

It was an instruction book that teaches Attic Greek, the language was not very well known around the world but it held a historical significance which Harry appreciated. It was the language spoken by some of the greatest philosophers in history including Aristotle.

Harry already knew Latin, French and German with the ability to get by in Russian if he had to do so, he quite liked learning new languages but then again he liked learning in general so maybe that was a moot point. He continued reading and was barely aware that Julie had brought his breakfast.

When he did realize that she had brought it he quickly put the book away and began eating, as he ate Harry thought about what he was going to be doing most of the day. He figured he might as well just head back to Privet Drive and continue reading his book about Attic Greek; he had nothing better to do as he thought about it.

With a rather tasty breakfast finally ate Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out five ten pound notes, he put them on the table as a tip and quickly stood up heading for the door. As he walked out of the diner he awaited the usual surprised squeak as Julie discovered the rather large tip.

It wasn't his money that was being wasted so he felt no real moral dilemma about blowing his uncles money in such a fashion and he couldn't think of anyone who could use it more then a struggling girl through college. Harry just wished he could leave a little more but he operated on a very strict budget which left little in the way of overzealous spending.

He walked back to Privet Drive in a more brisk pace then when he left it, he was eager to get back to his reading and hope to sneak in without the usual game of twenty-questions on where he had been or when he had left followed by the usual remarks about his parents himself and generally how he is was somehow going to unhinge the entire fabric of society with his "freakiness", what type of freakiness he had never seemed to be pointed out though.

As Harry slipped silently through the front door he could hear his aunt and uncle speaking in the kitchen, normally this wouldn't concern Harry to much but this time he caught little bits and pieces that peeked his interest.

"Vernon you said you had burned that trunk!" His aunt's shrill like voice seemed to be tense but laced with worry.

"Petunia my sweet I just didn't have time, I promise tonight I will torch it." Harry prepared to head upstairs a little curious as to what exactly his uncle seemed so keen on destroying.

"I don't want anything of my sister or her bastard husband left in my house Vernon Dursley!" Harry's head snapped around at this statement, he was frozen in his place as relatives discussed something which seemed to be related to his parents.

"Petunia my dear the trunk is safely tucked away downstairs and will be in the same place tonight, you have nothing to worry about I promise." With something that sounded revoltingly like a kiss his uncle strolled out of the kitchen, he didn't see Harry who was standing at the top of the stairs his mind formulating a plan on how to get his aunt away from the house so he could retrieve his parent's items.

With a final decision Harry dug into his pocket pulling out the last bit of his stolen money, it was roughly about two hundred pounds and he hoped it would be enough to entice the more greedy part of his aunt. Harry took a second to compose himself and then strolled into the kitchen with a casual expression on his face and the wad of notes clearly out in the open.

With an alarming speed his aunt had crossed the room and snatched the wad of notes from his hand, her greedy mud brown eyes was looking at the money reverently but also casting Harry suspicious looks. Harry feigned annoyance at having the money snatched from his hand like that.

"Where did you get this money freak?" Harry noted with distain she seemed more focused on the cash then him judging by the fact her tone didn't care the usual extreme loathing it normally did.

"Uncle Vernon just said to give you that money; he said you could go shopping for that new dress you wanted." This was a calculated lie, Harry knew his aunt needed little reason to spend money on a shopping spree but it helped give more credence to the lie itself.

"How thoughtful of him, me and my little Dudders are going to the mall and while were gone I want you to stay in your room freak." Harry made like he intended to argue but after something that he guest his aunt thought was an intimating glare he made a hasty retreat toward his room.

It was so simple, it was rather pathetic really. To think that she could be so easily mislead with a wad full of money and then just turn around and trust him not to go anywhere but his room. She was blinded by greed and anything else was of a secondary priority.

Which Harry had counted on, soon when he saw his aunt's car pull out of the drive he sprinted down the stairs and towards the basement his heart pounding wildly. Harry had never been able to even see a picture of his parents or to even know their real names and now that the chance to get all of that and more was like a dream come true.

With a casual flick of the light switch Harry walked slowly down the basement stairs, despite his aunts almost obsessing need for cleanliness the basement was filthy. There were many different boxes stacked haphazardly throughout the basement and from his initial scan Harry didn't see anything remotely resembling a trunk.

A little disheartened Harry began a more thorough examination, as he searched long and didn't find anything he felt the anger and hopelessness of the situation begin to stir within him. Harry had to take a minute and compose himself less he fall victim to a pack of utterly useless emotions.

After a couple of deep steadying breathes he quickly returned to the task at hand. Yet soon he had gone through the entire downstairs to no avail and all he had to show for it was a lot of collected dust on himself. With a rare display of emotion Harry cursed vehentemly and kicked the nearest box.

While it did seem to relieve some of his pent up stress, kicking the box caused a large cloud of dust to be kicked up into the air and causing Harry to cough loudly with the added effect of mass amounts of profanity. When the dust did finally begin to settle Harry made straight for the stairs.

It was only some type of shining he spotted out of the corner of his eye which made him stop and turn to examine it closer. Seemingly buried underneath the box was a large red cheery oak trunk, Harry guessed the box must have been on top of it and fell after he kicked it.

Feeling rightly ashamed of himself for loosing control like that Harry walked over to examine the trunk closer; oddly it seemed to be in good condition with no traces of dust or scratches on any part of the surface. Although normally this might have seemed odd to Harry he was too distracted with thoughts of finally finding out something about his parents.


Immediately different names began to spring to Harry's mind but those thoughts were soon pushed away, he tentatively reached down and unlatched the trunk. With a slow and steady reverence Harry opened the trunk and prayed that it would contain something which would give him some information about his parents past.

The immediate first thing he saw was also something which froze him in his place, it was a small picture resting atop a letter that he figured had been placed there to ensure it would be the first thing he saw when he opened the trunk. The picture had a beautiful woman with long flowing red hair and bright emerald eyes similar to his own, a man with unruly ebony locks much like his own was standing with an arm around the woman.

"Mum… Dad?" It was a silent statement but Harry knew it had to be true; they were just too many similar physical features between them and himself.

Harry was not quite sure how long he sat there staring at the pictures of his dead parents or how long it took him to realize something was amiss. Then it finally clicked into place, and Harry involuntarily jerked back from the trunk. His parent's photos were waving at him and he was quite sure that photos didn't usually do that.

Almost wondering if he had somehow imagined it Harry cautiously peeked back into the trunk at the picture. Now he was sure he was not delirious or seeing things because there his parents were furiously waving at him. Harry vaguely considered that maybe it was a special photograph but then again it had to at least over ten years old.

Harry just didn't know anything about photo development circa the 1980's so maybe it was possible to make a moving photograph. Well obviously he chided himself, determined to find out how exactly his parents had managed that little feat he took one last look at the photograph before setting it aside to reveal a letter simply marked Harry.

With the trembling hands Harry broke the seal and pulled out a note.

Dear Harry,

If you're reading this my darling then I'm sorry to say I've failed you as a mother and I have been killed. I hope you'll forgive me for not being there as you grow up but remember I will always love you. There is so much I wish to tell you and share with you but I'm afraid our time grows shorter.

If Albus… I mean Dumbledore does what I thing he will despite our wishes then you would have been raised by my sister. I shudder to think of the childhood you've have had to endure but I know you'll make it. The first thing I want to say is that no matter what you do or whatever happens I will love you my darling so never doubt that.

Now if I know my sister then she'd have never told you about your true heritage or what you really are. I know you would have been raised with a strict sense of what is "normal" and I know that this will be hard for you believe yet you must. You're a wizard my darling.

I know you my darling; you'd have grown up to be a smart boy like your father and so naturally you will be skeptical. Magic is real my darling and I don't need you to just take my word on that. Inside this trunk which I might add is a family heirloom on your father's side is everything we think you'd need to help explain it better.

I'm afraid that is all I can write my darling, I shall now hand it over to your father as he is quite eager to leave some of his own "wisdom" for you behind. Remember that your mother will always love you and I shall be waiting to greet my baby boy on the other side.

Dear Harry,

If you reading this then I guess I've gone and kicked the bucket (ow…I was to being sensitive) your mother has quite the fiery temper. (ow) Anyway I first want to let you that I will always love you Harry and nothing will ever change that, well it might if you decide to support the Chudley Cannons (ow.. just a bit of a joke!) but even then son I promise I shall always love you.

Now I know that Dumbledore will not follow our wishes, I won't tell you how to feel about that Harry because I want you to make up your own opinion about things but remember he always has the best of intentions. Now I'm pretty sure you're very skeptical about being a wizard but I can quite assure you it's true.

Also when I say wizard I don't mean what those crazy muggles call magic, honestly what the hell are all the candles they use for? (ow.. No I'm not teaching him bad language!) Anyway your mum wants to remind you to keep a civil tongue. Now back to business, magic is real and yes there is an entire secret hidden world.

Since I know you'll be just as brilliant as your mum I know you'll be just a little skeptical and that is why I ask you to just keep an open mind as you explore the contents of this trunk. I've taken the liberty o leaving a couple little notes at different places to help explain things.

Well son with that being said I'm afraid it's time for me to say goodbye and hopefully tuck this letter away to someplace it shall never be seen again. If by chance I did somehow managed to get turned into fertilizer (ow.. No I'm not stunting his mental development with a little humor!") Then I just want you to remember I love you and to always follow your own course my son.

With all of our eternal (gee that's a long time.. Ow!) love,

James and Lilly Potter

(No I don't think I'm ruining a personal letter to our son by injecting a little humor… OW!)

Harry couldn't help but smile at the last sentence, his father had from even beyond the grave managed to bring a smile to his face. Yet that didn't chance the fact about what his parents had just revealed to him, either they were involved in the occult or something else.

He didn't know why they would believe that magic was real but the tone of their letter seemed to imply they thought they had left enough evidence to convince him in the trunk. He set the letter down carefully along side the picture and then turned his attention the contents of the box.

There were many different books stacked neatly on the bottom and on top of the books were two thin boxes, Harry tentatively picked up the shorter box and opened it up. It was a long thin piece of willow which Harry estimated to be about ten inches long.

It was highly polished and Harry noticed upon closer examination it had small very meticulous golden runes carved lightly into the wood trailing up each side. He didn't really have to spend a large amount of time guessing what it was suppose to be, he knew that this was supposed to be some sort of magical wand.

How an intelligent woman like his mother could be duped into believing that this piece of wood while a very nice looking piece of wood but wood all the same could give her magical powers he was not sure. With a sigh he reached down and grasps the wand in hand.

A surge of warmth spread throughout Harry's entire body to the very tips of his fingers, he felt different somehow like an unknown strength lay at his finger tips yet he just couldn't use it. He was looking at the wand in shock as his mind was furiously trying to come up with a rational explanation.

Yet there was none… he just couldn't find some way to explain what the hell was going on with him. First he saw a picture of his parents actually waving at him! Next there was the fact that this stick had somehow made him feel like he had drunk an entire glass of hot chocolate.

So either there was more to meet the eye about what his parents were saying or this was the most elaborate practical joke in the history of joking. Either way he quickly realized he needed to make a more careful examination of the contents of this trunk.

With this in mind he quickly put the letter and photo back inside and closed the trunk. He needed to get it back to his room or run the risk of his aunt coming home and discovering what he was doing. With this in mind Harry quickly picked up the trunk and headed for the upstairs.

As he lugged the large trunk up the stairs the loud squeak of a stopping mini-van froze Harry in his place, he didn't expect his aunt to be home so fast or maybe he just hadn't realized how long he had been downstairs. Either way he knew his aunt was soon going to burst inside the house and find Harry was nowhere near his room.

Harry didn't waste anytime as he redoubled his efforts at hauling the trunk up the stairs; he heard the mini-van doors slam shut just as he entered the kitchen. With a string of curses Harry ran to the bottom of the stairs and began his ascent upwards, he was half-way up there when he heard the front door open.

Gathering his last vestiges of strength Harry flew up the stairs with the trunk and then scrambled into his room. He quickly slammed the door shut and let out a sigh of relief. His aunt's shrill voice could be heard echoing from downstairs but all that concerned him was that the trunk was safe.

"Get down here and get my bags freak!" With an annoyed sigh Harry lifted the trunk under his bed and headed downstairs to play slave labor to his aunt.

"No food for you tonight freak, when I say come I mean come." His aunt spent the next several minutes screaming obscenities at him before directing Harry to bring her bags in. Harry did without question or his usual smart remark; he just wanted to get back to the trunk.

It took him twenty long grueling minutes before he had finished bringing in all his aunt's packages. He was amazed she had managed to buy so much with the two-hundred measly pounds he had given her. Not really wanting to ponder the issue anymore Harry retreated back to his room gladly willing to forgo lunch or dinner.

After dragging a chair over to ensure himself a little privacy, Harry opened the trunk with the full intent of sorting the contents of it. Yet a small piece of parchment drew his attention, it was taped to a book whose title he couldn't quite make out but the distinct scrawl of his father he easily recognized.

Read this book first Harry it will explain everything you need to know.

Love Dad,

Harry quietly pulled away the note to reveal the title of the book, "A Muggles Guide To The Wizarding World". Harry hesitantly picked up the book and opened to the first page. If his father thought this book might help him understand some things then Harry was ready to give him the benefit of the doubt.

The next few hours were the most enlightening and utterly confusing of Harry's life. It wasn't easy for an intelligent person to learn that he had been wrong about so many things before. The book's title while stupid was not an indicator about the content of what was inside.

The book was a virtual goldmine of information, it explained some of the basic facts about the wizarding world and talked about some of the basic knowledge one would need to survive in it. It included chapters on wands and also other information someone might need to know if they were just entering the wizarding world.

All in all it was a very eye opening but confusing read, while it helped answer many of his questions it just didn't provide the definitive proof his stubbornly rational mind demanded. So with a grim determination Harry pulled out his mums willow wand from the trunk.

He figured the only way to prove it was to try and do a little bit of magic, the book had described the ban on underage magic but had stressed that accidental releases of magic by a minor who had not attended school would not be prosecuted. Harry hoped that if he actually did do a spell that it would just be written off.

It took a minute for Harry to dig around and find the book he was looking for, "The Standard Book of Spell Grade 1 By Miranda Goshawk". He had read that one of the most very basic spells was a simple levitation charm; he figured it would help provide the conclusive proof he needed.

It took him a couple of minutes of flipping through the book before he found the appropriate page, Harry spent the next twenty minutes practicing the swish and flick motion while making sure he could pronounce the name of the spell perfectly. Finally deciding it was now or never he stood up laying the book on the bed.

"Wingardium Leviosa." Harry swished and flicked the wand exactly as he had seen in the book, he watched a few seconds in hesitant disappointment but let out a whoop of glee when he saw the book slowly hover a few inches of the bed.

He felt a wave of awe rush over him as he watched the book hover off the bed. All of the lingering doubts in his mind seemed to fade into nothing. He was a wizard and now he had all the conclusive proof he would require, he hardly even noticed he spent the majority of an hour just learning how to be control the levitation spell.

It was fascinating to watch the book flying all across the room seemingly defying all the accepted laws of gravity, Harry finally realized that he was going to have to set the book down. The problem though was he didn't realize how to shut the spell off, it took another ten minutes of searching for him to come up with the spell.

"Finite Incantatem." The book stopped fly in midair and dropped to the ground with a thud, a wide grin splitting his face Harry picked up the book and set it back inside the trunk.

Harry although eager to continue knew that it was getting rather late, he still had a rather long run in the morning and was determined not to break his normal routine simply because he found out he was a wizard. With reluctant acceptance Harry packed the books and wand back into the trunk and slid it under his bed.

It almost didn't hit him how tired he was before he slipped off his cloths and sank into bed. With the final act of setting his alarm clock Harry drifted off to sleep.

It was peaceful in a way he admitted to himself, sorting the different magical texts into their respective piles and just generally relaxing. It had been exactly a week since he had finally accepted that he was truly a wizard and the next several days had been spent organizing different items from the trunk or just generally practicing a few spells.

One thing that became apparent as Harry sorted the books was that his parents maybe had not expected him to find the truck so early in his life. Most of the magical texts were too advanced for him or he lacked the basic knowledge to even comprehend some of their instructions.

He knew it would be foolish to attempt advanced magic without having a proper gasp of the basics, Harry wanted a good solid base to build his magical skills on and was leery of trying more magic without one. This meant Harry was going to have to buy some more books, actually a lot more books he reminded himself.

He knew the place where most wizarding folk from The United Kingdom shop was at Diagon Alley and he had a rough idea of where he could enter it from London. Yet without wizarding money it would be an exercise in futility and just a waste of his time.

He had thought maybe his parents had left him a little money to help get established in the wizarding world but he hadn't found any trace of anything like that yet. So that was why he was currently going through every book looking for any signs his parents had left him an inheritance.

He had started the process a couple hours ago with a little bit of hope but was now far more pessimistic, so it was annoyed reluctance he held the last book from the trunk in his hand. It was a small well worn leather book; it didn't even have a title to indicate what exactly it was.

So with a weariness of wanting to be done with this otherwise complete waste of time he opened the book to the first page. Well it wasn't the usual text which read like gibberish to Harry, in fact there was no text per say at all. The pages were perfectly blank and didn't look like they had ever been written on.

It was pure luck that Harry got the text as it began to appear on the page as he was shutting the book. He was stunned into silence as entire lines and pages filled up with text magically with the book still in his hand. It only took a few seconds for him to shake himself out of his stupor as he scanned the title.

"The Potter Ledger." He couldn't help but read it out loud, as he began to scan the text he was surprised to see different charts and graphs all neatly laid out.

It took him near ten minutes of going over the different pages before he began to really grasp what he was holding, it was some sort of magical financial planner for his family. The book contained details account records from all the different investments and business owned by the Potter family.

There were account balances and copies of deeds to pieces of real estate that were owned by the Potter family, and one recurring theme was that his name was listed as owning all the different properties and business plus being the soil heir to the Potter family fortune.

He was surprisingly calm considering he was discovering that he was currently worth hundreds of millions of galleons. That was not even counting the three hundred million in muggle pounds spread out among various banks or factoring in the properties or business he owned.

The thought of trying to get an exact concrete number on how much he was worth with properties and all was enough to make him get a headache. Well in a random thought he wouldn't have to worry about money anymore. This was proceeding by him promptly fainting.

­­­­­­­­­­­"So I'm a bloody millionaire… well that's nice to know." This was the first thought to circle around Harry's mind as he woke up but the second thought made him smile vindictively.

"So now I've got the tools to get revenge." With that thought echoing loudly and clearly in his mind Harry began to plan his venture into Diagon Alley.