Disclaimer and Opening Notes: I don't own Harry Potter, the universe of Harry Potter or any of the characters. JK Rowling does. You should all know what is taken directly from the books and movies by now unless you're dense, so I don't want to hear any BS about stealing or plagiarism. Referencing every little damn thing makes the story practically unreadable. So the imaginary PhDs in Literature out there can shut it. If you don't like it, go find something else to read. I got enough of that crap with Myrddin Emrys Returns so I'll not tolerate it here. I WILL rip you a new one. Now for those who wish to review and add your CONSTRUCTIVE criticism, I welcome you to review all you want. I enjoy hearing about things I can do to improve my work, or correct a spelling/grammatical error you might find that I missed, just not in a way that's extremely rude for no other reason than to make yourself feel better cause you suck at life. I'm playing in JKR's sandbox and I am NOT, repeat, NOT making any money off of this. I'm doing it for fun and expanding on her brilliant work ( HBP and DH not withstanding).

The idea for Myrddin was originally an H/Hr concept so this story will have many elements you may have read in that M.E.R. like the Yule Ball. That was actually the very first scene in M.E.R. I envisioned and it was with Hermione, not Daphne. Harry will be more powerful than canon but not as powerful as Myrddin. More along the lines of Dumbledore's potential, but since he is young, he's not reached it yet and won't until he's got experience. I could get away with it in M.E.R. because he was effing Merlin re-incarnate for F's sake. You would think that being able to cast a Patronus at 13 would have put him in the same league as a 13 year old Albus Dumbledore, so that's what I'm going by. Enjoy!

Chapter One: The Prisoner of Durzkaban

Harry Potter sat at his desk staring out the window in the smallest bedroom of Number 4 Privet Drive. It was 11:57pm on a warm and muggy Friday night, July 30th 1993. In but a few minutes he would turn 13 years of age. He would finally be a teenager and one year closer to getting the hell away from the Dursleys. In his hand was the last letter he had received from his best friend Hermione. He enjoyed her letters far more than anything Ron ever sent, as the boy was never much of a letter writer anyway.

It was a simple, but long missive about her travels through southern France with her parents. While it contained detailed descriptions of what she'd seen so far, it was not in her usual style of babbling on about the history of one place or another. She had rally seemed to ease off that over the course of the summer. Harry enjoyed sitting back and trying to picture the French countryside and the châteaux dotting the map. He hoped to be able to visit those places one day.

He was distracted from his musings by the beep of his wrist watch that told him it was now Midnight, and he was officially a teenager.

"Happy Birthday to me." he said to himself.

He looked out toward the night sky, he rested his chin on the open palm of his right hand and was instantly lost in another day dream. He idly spied a shape moving across the face of the moon. Not being "all there" at the moment, he thought nothing of it, until he noticed the shape was getting larger and larger.

His eyes grew wide as he started to think of what it might be that seemed to be heading for his open window. Rising quickly from his desk, he reached out to shut the open pane when he heard a familiar chirping whistle. He knew that sound anywhere. He squinted his eyes at the form to try and a better look. The form seemed to dip below the roofs of Privet Drive and it wasn't until it passed a street lamp that he was able to see that it was Hedwig and a second owl carrying a third owl between them. He hadn't seen Hedwig for nearly five days. At first he'd been worried as he hadn't sent her back to Hermione with a letter but five days was usually the time it took her to fly to and from the southern French coast.

He saw that Hedwig and the unknown brown owl were fighting for altitude to reach his window. He stumbled back onto his bed as Hedwig gave a cry as if she were shouting at him to get the hell out of the way. The two haggard owls flew in through the window where they promptly dropped the third (which Harry recognized as Errol) onto his desk. Both birds seemed to be panting as they too landed on his desk with a sigh of relief.

"Hey girl." Harry cooed his familiar while tenderly scratching her head as he noticed Hedwig was carrying a large parcel and a letter with Hermione's neat script on it. " I missed you this past week. Did Hermione send me something?"

Hedwig looked up at him as if to say "No shit Sherlock." as Harry untied the large box from her leg. As soon as she was relived of her burden (other than Errol) she flew up to her cage and took a long drink from her water dish. Harry then turned to the brown owl and relived it of it's parcel as well, before telling it to stay for a moment as he got some water from the tap in the loo. The bird drank deeply before giving Harry a grateful hoot and taking off through his window and back out into the night. Looking at the parcel more closely, he noticed the attached letter had Hagrid's messing scrawl on it.

He collected the parcel Errol carried before taking the beleaguered bird over to Hedwig's cage for a rest. She looked balefully at Errol before she settled herself on Harry's dresser and fell asleep.

Opening the package from the Weasley's first, he found Ron's letter, talking about their trip to Egypt as well as a newspaper clipping of the family. Ron had sent him a pocket sneak-o-scope. It was suppose to detect untrustworthy people. Bill thought it was defective as it kept going off during dinner. He had no idea the twins had slipped him a prototype potion for their Canary-Cream idea.

The next gift he opened was from Hagrid. What followed was several minutes of the book "The Monster Book of Monsters" trying to eat his face and or feet. In the end, Harry had ended up baiting the book with one of his trainers before jumping on top of the book and securing it with one of Uncle Vernon's discarded belts. He wrote a quick response to Hagrid, asking him how the hell he was suppose to keep the book from making a meal out of him, to be sent once Hedwig had rested up.

Saving Hermione's for last, he opened her letter and read.

Dear Harry,

HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Your owl is such a clever girl. She turned up out of no where. I had been hoping she would do so, as I don't have my own owl and had no way of sending you your birthday gift. I hope you like it. It took me ages to finally decide on what to get you.

Unfortunately my parents have been having such a good time that they've decided we're staying longer than planned. I shudder to think what they might be up to now that they have been getting me my own hotel room across the hall instead of the three of us together.

Harry had to snicker at this.

It doesn't seem like our plans to have you visit are going to pan out this summer. Maybe next summer. I look forward to seeing you sometime soon. Hopefully in Diagon Alley like last year. Have a great birthday, (or as good as it can be with your relatives).

Missing you,


Harry was disappointed that he would likely not be staying with Hermione this summer. The Weasleys were still in Egypt so it seemed like he was stuck in (as the twins called it) Durzkaban for the rest of the summer. With a sigh, he opened Hermione's gift to him and gasped out loud when he saw that she had sent him a broom stick servicing kit for his Nimbus.

"Wow Hermione." he breathed.

He noticed another box below it and a note from Hermione telling him it was a box of various food stuffs along with a small birthday cake. She had also gotten the witch who owned the shop to cast preservation charms on it to keep it all fresh until taken out of the box. There was enough to last him at least a week.

He sat there for several moments with a goofy smile on his face. Thinking about Hermione, his mind started wandering to places the mind of a 13 year old boy often wanders before he shook his head to clear those thoughts he felt he should not be having about his bushy haired friend. It was then he noticed that Hedwig seemed to be chucking amusedly to herself. Wondering why she was so amused, he felt a twitch in his groin area. Looking down, he was horrified at what he saw. He quickly grabbed the boom stick servicing kit and covered his crotch, trying to hide his shame from his faithful owl. His face was burning red for several minutes after, and he fell back to sleep, facing away from Hedwig.

In the morning, he was back to smiling to himself after he had polished his broom stick before going down to cook breakfast for his relatives. Vernon glared at him, as if it were an affront for him to be smiling. Petunia sniffed haughtily before she took her seat. Harry's good mood evaporated in an instant when Vernon said he was off to pick up Aunt Marge from the train station. It began raining heavily soon after.


"Get the door!" spat Petunia about an hour later.

Feeling a knot in his stomach, he pulled open the front door. On the threshold stood Aunt Marge. The bitch was almost exactly like Uncle Vernon, only female. As she entered the house she looked upon Harry with distain. In one hand she held a suit-case, and tucked under the other, was her ill-tempered Bulldog.

She immediately asked for her "Dudders".

The fat pig was sitting in front of the telly, stuffing his gob as usual. When Mage straightened up she once again caught Harry in her sights.

"Oh you're still here are you?" she said with a sneer.

"Yes," said Harry as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, which it was, seeing as he was standing right there. Idiot woman.

"Don't say 'Yes!' me in that ungrateful tone boy!" Marge said with malice. "You're lucky your Uncle is so generous, in letting you stay here."

Turning to Vernon she continued, "He'd have been straight to the orphanage if he'd have been left on my doorstep."

"The bitch." He thought.

The days seemed to drag on. Aunt Marge, like his Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, seemed to take great glee in constantly criticizing him at ever opportunity. The only thing that had gotten him through was re-reading Hermione's letters as well as two new ones she had sent since his birthday. It had gotten him this far, however, ten days after Marge's arrival, Harry's patience finally snapped.

It was dinner time, and Harry was thinking longingly about life at Number Four with out the stupid twat.

On that night they had just finished dinner, and Harry was beginning the clean up. Marge'd had a bit to drink after the meal was done. Harry had heard 'round from the twins that there were three kinds of drinkers; the 'I love all you guys" drunk, the quiet drunk, and the arsehole drunk. Marge was an arsehole.

She had been going on and on all through out dinner about what made Harry such an unsatisfactory person, and was beginning to slur her words.

Harry rolled his eyes as he continued cleaning.

"Where did you say the boy went to school again Vernon?" said Marge.

"St. Brutus'," said Vernon.

"Hmm, you boy," Marge began, looking at Harry. "Do they use a cane at St. Brutus'?"

Vernon looked at him pleadingly.

"Oh! Oh yeah," said Harry. "I've been beaten loads of times, mm-hmm." he finished with a nod of his head.

Marge narrowed her eyes.

"I don't like your tone runt." she said, "If you speak of your beatings in such a casual way, they clearly aren't hitting you hard enough."

"You mustn't blame yourself for the way the boy turned out Vernon," she said, spilling a bit of Brandy on her blouse. "If there is something rotten inside, there isn't anything you can do about it. It's all about blood, bad blood. What it is the boy's father did for a living?"

"Oh he didn't," Petunia said quickly, "He was unemployed."

"And a drunk too no doubt." Marge scoffed.

His temper finally getting to him, Harry said, "That's a lie!" the irony of the comment was not lost on him.

"What did you say?"

"My dad wasn't a drunk!" said Harry with heat trying desperately to reign in his temper.

Suddenly the brandy glass Marge had been holding in her fat digits shattered, startling Petunia and Vernon.

"Don't worry, don't fuss Petunia," said Marge with a chuckle, "I've got a very firm grip!"

Turning to Harry, "You boy, clean it up," she said with a snap of her fingers.

Grudgingly, Harry grabbed a hand towel and cleaned up the broken glass and spilled alcohol.

"Actually, it's nothing to do with the father," she opened her fat mouth again, "It's all got to do with the mother."

Looking over at Harry she continued, "You see it all the time with dogs. If there's something wrong with the bitch, then there's something wrong with the pup."

At this, Harry finally lost it. "Shut up! Shut up!" he shouted, "I'm glad I'm not from your stock, or I'd have a fat an arse as you, you bitch!"

The lights began flickering, and a breeze began blowing from an unknown source, as Harry's magic flared.

"Right! Now see here boy-" she never finished the thought, because at that moment, she began to swell like a balloon.

"MARGE!" yelled Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia as Aunt Marge's body began to rise out of her chair and up to the ceiling.

Harry couldn't believe his eyes. 'I didn't think she could get any more round," he thought.

As Marge began drifting out of the patio door, Vernon trying desperately to bring her back down, while Ripper bit his ankle, Harry tore from the dining room.

Escape! He had to escape. He was surely going to be expelled for using magic once again. Quickly throwing open his trunk, he hastily began throwing all of his possessions in hap-hazardly. Lifting up the loose floorboard in his room, he grabbed his pillow case full of his books and birthday presents. Throwing them into his trunk, he slammed the lid closed and seized Hedwig's cage. Luckily, his owl was likely on her way back from France. He was confident she could find him, where ever he might end up.

Dashing back downstairs he was accosted by a purple faced Vernon.


'No! She deserved it!" Harry said, breathing very fast, as if he'd just run a mile. "The bitch deserved what she got."

Vernon lunged, only to have Harry's wand pointed straight at his face. Vernon immediately cowered back.

"You keep away form me!" Harry shouted.

"You're not allowed to use magic outside of school!" said Vernon.

"Yeah? Try me!" challenged Harry.

"They won't let you back no boy! You've nowhere to go."

"I don't care! Any where's better than here!" and with that Harry Potter marched out onto the street.


A/N: Read and review.