Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you recognize, including, but not limited to: characters, places, and situations.
Warning, read please: I have read, and known of a lot of readers, that come to this website and, angry with not having their expectations met, proceed to flame the author of the work they are reading. In the same way, I know of a lot of authors that stopped writing because of the negativity of the feedback they received, so, in order to save as many as I can from the aforementioned frustrations I would like to write down what you can expect from this particular work of fiction
This is my first work here so any problem with the quality will be fixed as I get better and (I hope) with the support of helpful reviewers that tell me how I'm doing wrong
I don't necessarily hate cliches, what I do think is that even when they are included, it can be done with certain finesse, do it in a way so it doesn't feel like you are reading the same damm thing for the hundredth time, I can't count, for example, how many time I read in a fic this: [after a miserable failure of an idiotic plot by interference of the heroes] "why can't they understand that I do it for the greater good"... I can't help but roll my eyes every time I see this nowadays
I will probably write lemons in the fic, however, this will probably be well beyond the 200k word count so don't expect them for a while
Differences from canon: this story is going to be Harry centric, with an OOC (out of character) Harry, Harry is going to be more intelligent and overpowered by canon standard, he will not, however, steamroll all of his enemies. This is going to be for the foreseeable future a Harry/Hermione fic. I expect to expand upon the rather ambiguous nature of magic and how it works. Hogwarts starts at 13 years old, the age of majority is 19, also Quidditch is general nonsense so I'm rewriting at least how the seeker position works, in order to not make any slip in the time period, assume that everybody's birth is 10 years later than canon, that is to say, Harry will start Hogwarts in 2003 instead of 1991
A house… A normal house, with normal people. A standard two stories house with three rooms, a rather comfy looking living room and family photos carefully displayed around it. A man that wakes up every morning to go to work, a housewife that likes to spy on the neighbors and a child that is dotted by his parents.
If one were to enter this house nobody would probably find anything out of the ordinary, you would probably be invited to tea by the housewife while the man talked about golf or drills. The refreshments would be neither remarkable nor disgusting and when you asked to use the bathroom you would surely find it to be impeccable, if just as unremarkable as the rest of the house.
If, however, you were to adventure to examine exhaustively the house, you would eventually find underneath the façade of normalcy something very different. Below the stairs leading to the second floor of the house was a cupboard and the one to open it would find a rather curious and perturbing sight.
Little Harry Potter stared intently at his pillow, he was pretty sure that it had moved a little while ago on its own. Now, one may be quick to pass it up as a fickle of his imagination, were it not for the fact that it had happened before. Just a few minutes ago his uncle threw him into his cupboard after a rather painful smack in the head, apparently, the Dursley took exception to the fact that somehow his hair grew after the horrid haircut Petunia had given him
He had been angry, so angry in fact that he started to hit the door in a tantrum, which of course did have pretty predictable consequences
"Boy! You are staying in that cupboard for the weekend! And if you don't stop I swear you won't be getting any food for an entire month!" Bellowed a Vernon that surely showed an interesting shade of purple in the face by now, not that Harry could see him behind his cupboard. He could only whip out his hand at nothing in frustration at the impotency that was feeling, cursing the injustice of his situation.
He probably would have missed if it had been any subtler, after all, it hadn't been a big movement at all, only a twitch, a little jump as his pillow apparently decided that it didn't need any outside force to be capable of movement. Harry kept staring at his pillow, his anger not really quelled, but replaced at the moment, with curiosity.
The next couple of hours saw Harry attempting to get another reaction out of his pillow, it was not like he was particularly disciplined, it was just that the other option was boredom, Harry was starting to get pretty tired, he didn't even know why he was doing it at this point, but Harry Potter was stubborn if nothing else, and with the last vestiges of his wavering consciousness he did it! he managed to move the pillow, inconveniently, out of the bed where he promptly fell asleep still in his tattered clothes.
A/N: hi there, for those of you that take the time to read the A/N and offer feedback, I'll like to leave certain aspects of every chapter open for debate or otherwise offer an explanation of why I did this or that in that particular way
1/29/2020: so the original prologue was something of a placeholder, just to get me to post the fic. Since I have improved a little I decided that it would simply no do, it is still, the first thing I posted here so I wanted to leave it as a before-after comparison that I hope some appreciate
Prologue (old one)
Harry Potter had been leading a life that not many could regard with envy, he was shunned and isolated from the other kids his own age for as long as he could remember, he was hated by his relatives who couldn't look at him without betraying the disgust and fear in their faces, he had no friends per say, he spent the first 7 years of his life living like a slave and sleeping in the cupboard below the stairs in the house of his relatives, frequently assaulted by spiders and rats, even so he didn't complain too much, he knew that in exchange for all his misery, he was gifted.
Harry was 6 years old when he confirmed that he was special. He always knew he was different, after all, all kind of phenomena keep occurring around him when he was angry, nervous or ashamed, like when he was 4 and his cousin Dudley was harassing him to give away the candy that the man with weird clothing has given him and he pushed with a strength unbelievable to a skinny 4 years old kid, or when he was running away from Dudley and his gang and the next thing he knew is that he was in a rooftop, all those incidents made sure that he knew he was special, but it wasn't until the night before his seventh birthday when he finally started scratching the surface of the truth, that night he found himself in deep thought about all the little mysteries that happened around him and remembered that in the not so little ones, he felt himself wrapped in some sort of coat but not a regular coat, not one made of fabric, the more he thought about it the clearer the sensation in his memory became, yes, it was like a coat but instead of fabric... liquid? No, not liquid it felt fluid but certainly no wet, so maybe and coat of air? No, it was free as the air but he had the impression that it was denser. In all this thinking he started to realize he was feeling the "coat" around him, and with a tingle of curiosity focused in his pillow and willed it to raise, nothing happened at the beginning so fighting the feeling of disappointment he kept willing it to raise. At the beginning was just a little movement, but the slowly but surely it started to levitate until it stopped at the level of his eyes, he didn't knew how much he stared in wonder at the levitated pillow, but the next thing he knew was the intense feeling of fatigue that assaulted him and the fact that the pillow was falling to the bed, he curled himself in the bed and looked at the wristwatch that he took when Dudley threw it at him 2 years before, looking at the hour, he smirked and thought to himself "well, that is a hell of a gift, happy birthday Harry" and a few seconds later he fell asleep already feeling happier than at any other birthday, (or any other day for that matter) that he could remember.