J.K.Rowling owns all of it and most stuff about Harry Potter and what ever else she wants because she deserves it 'cause she great.
It begins insides out
The sky of this land was a raging orange, its wild life strangely different from anything you could ever expect to see, even if you were a wizard. There's no difference here though, for whatever creature you are-it's the smell that'll get you it'll drive you mad if you weren't born to it.
It was once said in wizarding history that if you ignore all the warning sings-and they are there-and still do the wrong thing, make a bad choice at a critical point in time, then your past will catch up with you, if you're not already dead. History was being punished again by the mistake that was just a name now, that in the years that had followed The time before had actually picked up a bit of a crud meaning.
The great thing about the human race has to be its ability not to dwell on the past but to learn from it and not to be bitter. Stories of fools have been past down and down generation after generation as folk tales and myths. One of which is still told, time and time again after centuries of hardship this one tale is the most popular, so ridiculous and unbelievable that the good people of couldn't help believing it happened. It happened.
Opening his eyes sleepily Harry smiled; he'd had the nicest dream, were everything was funny coloured. I must of ate too much last night Harry thought to himself, one too many glasses of pink lemonade.
At the moment it was dark in Harry's room. A glance a his clock told Harry it was 4:30 in the morning, however the sulphur orange glow from the street lamp situated some five meters from Harry's window allowed one to move freely about the room without tripping over any unseen obstacles.
Sitting up in bed Harry was able to get a better view of his room, the clothes he'd been wearing last night were crumpled in a heap on the floor. It was strange for him not to put his things away out of force of habit, but as he remembered the night before and the terrible stomach ache that had followed the family meal, Harry found everything much more clearer. Maybe they're trying to poison me, Harry joked to himself.
Yesterday had also been Harry's fifteenth birthday. Ron Weasley, Harry's best friend had given him an official Chudley Cannon scarf which, when you put it on blew out behind you like you were standing in a gale.
Harry had received his most interesting present from his Godfather, Sirius Black, it was a book of defensive and offensive curses that one could learn to perform without a wand, which Harry never know you could do.
Hermione, Harry's other best friend had sent Harry a book of myths and legends from the beginning of time, Harry had a feeling that the only one who would be reading this book would be Hermione herself.
Harry settled himself back in bed feeling happier than he had in weeks. The only worry was breakfast in 3 hours time with the dreaded Dursleys.