A/N: A Rewrite of my very first fic, because it was physically painful to read the original and see all the horrible mistakes.

There will be big and little edits, including time-lines and plot-holes being filled (maybe?)

Enjoy!

Wizard: Insert generic disclaimer! (Throws handful of glitter)

Rage: MAGIC!

Wizard: …

Harry: Isn't glitter the herpes of the Art World?

Wizard: Where did you learn that sort of language?!

Harry: … Health Class. -_-

Wizard: …Oh…

Harry: Yeah…

Rage: On with the chapter!

Prologue

Wish I May

It was a dark and stormy night. The moon was full behind the ominous clouds, and lightning flashed, allowing brief glimpses of the graveyard that—Wait, what?

Stormy night? Graveyard?! What the heck?!

(Rustling paper noises)

Oh, oops! Wrong story, sorry!

(Clears throat)

It was a mildly cloudy day in mid-April in the year nineteen-ninety-one. The light wind brought with it the smell of the rain that promised to begin drizzling later in the afternoon, and all was calm in the little town of Surrey, England. Looking closer, we find ourselves on the street of Private Drive. It's a neat, tidy little street, with houses so similar and boring that they practically invented the term "Cookie Cutter Houses".

Walking down this street, we come upon an anomaly! This anomaly appeared in the form of a rather flashy red sports car, sitting prettily in the driveway of a house with a large number four on its door. Curious, we venture closer, and peer in through the window.

…

Ah, yes.

The Dursley Family.

They were an ordinary family of four, focused on being as normal as possible and yet managing to stand out in the most… Unflattering ways. Take the Husband for example, hmm?

Vernon Dursley was a portly man, with an unfortunate likeness to a walrus, with his bristled mustache and small, wet eyes. He worked for a drill company called Grunnings, and it was his car that had caught our eye. He had straw-colored hair and, if you asked him, he was always willing to boast about just how normal he was, thank you very much! No, no, nothing bizarre or odd here… Unless, of course, his short temper is sparked, in which case you will find yourself witnessing the delightful spectacle of Mr. Dursley turning all manner of shades of purple and red.

Let's move on, shall we, to the Wife.

Petunia Dursley nee Evans was a tall, stick-thin woman with her dark blond hair always tied back in a severe bun and her blue eyes narrowed. She had an unnaturally long neck, most often used for peering over fences at her neighbors, and abnormally horse-like teeth. She may, at one point in the far, far distant past, been relatively alright looking, but years of squinting through blinds to spy on her neighbors, and a perpetually scrunched up nose, as if a nasty smell was in every corner, had left Mrs. Dursley with an incredibly unbecoming face. Not that her husband minded at all, of course, but, well…

Love is in the eye of the beholder, hmm?

Now, let's leave this… Lovely couple be, and focus on the third Dursley, the Son.

Dudley Dursley was an all around spherical boy, with his father's straw-colored hair and small, wet eyes—though, they were his mothers' shade of blue—as well as his unbecoming temper. However, where Vernon is more likely to bellow and roar and strut about like a territorial hippopotamus, Dudley is in possession of a far more physical temper. When outside the Dursley Home, it is well known for him to roam about with his gang of thug-like friends, terrorizing the younger and smaller children, while, at Home, he is the 'perfect angel' in his parents minds, sitting and staring at the screen like a blank-eyed turkey, while continuously putting food in his mouth (one would think that the School Nurse or Doctors would bring up his unhealthy weight and eating habits, but, then again, he does take after Vernon…).

Altogether, however, the Dursley Family isn't of much interest to us. Nothing strange or abnormal or curious about them, as long as you discount their ridiculous phobia of all things "Not Normal". No, the three of them weren't of any concern of ours…

What's this?

The Fourth member of the Household? Well, he's a bit different than his relatives but…

Well…

Hmm…

…

Oh, alright then! Come along! We might as well sate this curiosity of yours before we're on our way. After all, there are much more interesting things to see than this.

Come, come, around the back. Look, there, kneeling in the heat of the summer afternoon. Yes, the black-haired boy in the too-large clothes. That is the fourth and final member of the Dursley Family.

Harry Potter, the son of Mrs. Dursley's deceased sister Lilly, and Lilly's husband, James, both of whom were murdered on Halloween when Harry was barely fifteen-months-old. Poor lad has nothing but his looks and that scar on his forehead to remind him of them, however. His mother's bright green eyes, his father's wild black hair, and that scar.

(A sad sigh)

He hasn't had a good life since then, seeing as how Mrs. Dursley loathed her sweet sister, and when she'd found the lad on their doorstep on November First, like a bottle of milk? Well…

Let us just say that the Dursley Family is far from kind, and that Harry has had to suffer through many things young children ought not have to.

(Another sigh)

Come along, we should go. Let's leave the tale here and continue on. We have much to do before we head to—!

Wait.

What's that, there?

Oh… Oh!

Oh my!

Come, come! Finally, something interesting is about to happen.

Hush, now, just watch.

You're about to see the beginning of something amazing, just trust me.

Just watch…

With Harry…

Harry sighed unhappily as he wearily swiped an arm across his sweaty forehead, mopping away moisture and leaving dirt behind, not that he really cared. The ten-year-old boy wished he could be doing inside chores at the moment, or safely sequestered away inside his dark, cool cupboard bedroom, but he knew better. After all, it was always on the hottest and most miserable days that his Relatives assigned him Outside Chores.

Grunting as he tugged a stubborn dandelion out from the rosebushes under-side, Harry shoved his large, bottle-cap glasses back up his nose, though it didn't do much good as they slid back down almost immediately.

He wished he was somewhere else. Anywhere else would do! He just wanted to get away from this horrible place.

Away from his sneering, cold-eyed Aunt, with her pinching fingers and shrill voice.

Away from his snarling, angry Uncle, with his heavy hands and nasty words.

Away from his mean, spoiled Cousin, with his Harry Hunting and his tantrums.

Just… Away.

Away from all of it.

Sighing, he moved to shuffle along to the next rose bush, when there was a strange sound, like the sound sheets made when they caught in the wind while hanging up to dry, that whump sound of them flapping…

Looking around curiously, the young boy blinked his almond-shaped eyes at the only tree in the yard, which rose up over the small tool shed that was sometimes his bedroom as well. One of the branches was rustling, as if something heavy was settling on it and, cautiously curious, Harry got to his feet and shuffled over to peer up into the shadowy depths, wondering if one of Old Mrs. Figg's many cats had gotten stuck again.

What he found instead, was the most magnificent bird he had ever laid eyes on outside of the fairytales they sometimes read in class, and his mouth dropped open as he gaped at the massive thing.

It was as large as a swan, with thick feathers that were made up of different shades of red and gold, bright and gleaming in the sunlight the filtered through the tree leaves. It's tail feathers were as long as Harry's arm, and red, with little gold flecks throughout until it ended with an almost peacock-like "Eye" of gold at the end. The face that stared back at him from the shadows was the color of blacked woof, with a sharply curved black beak that reminded the boy of vultures, and large, round black eyes, that had no pupil or whites as far as he could tell. It crooned at him, a fluting noise that was similar to the sound that sometimes happened when you blew on the top of an open bottle or jug, and it shifted its body, drawing Harry's eyes to its feet, which were the same soot-black color, with dangerous-looking black talons.

A shimmer of metal caught the boys eye, and he blinked, noticing that, handing from the bird's claws, was a long, thin silver chain, and on that chain was a flat, silver coin about the size of Harry's palm, that was slowly spinning, showing off the bright green, thumbprint-sized gem in the very center of one side.

"You're amazing," Harry breathed, dragging his attention back to the bird; it cooed again, and seemed to preen, making Harry grin as it hopped down the branch a little, the strange medallion swinging in its grasp. "Where on earth did you come from?" He asked it, cautiously walking after the bird as it continued to hop and shuffle down the branch, towards the trunk of the tree. "I don't think any animals have escaped from the zoo, and you're definitely not a house pet," he mused, glancing quickly back towards the house to keep an eye out for his relatives.

However, the moment he looked away from the bird, it decided to do him a bit of mischief, and fluttered into the air, dropping its shiny, metal catch onto his head with a heavy thunk as it fluttered up into the higher branches, making Harry yelp at the unexpected pain. Clutching at the sore spot on his head and grimacing, Harry shot a sulky look up at the bird as he bent down to scoop the necklace up.

"Well, you're not getting this back then," he muttered, peering at the gem on its metal disk, before shrugging. Without much thought, the young boy slipped the chain around his head and let it drop, causing the medallion to smack gently against his chest, right over where his heart would be.

The result was instantaneous.

Harry had barely a second to yelp in surprise, before he felt as if he was being wrenched through a tube of ice and boiling water. In a plume of thick, greenish smoke, the boy disappeared from the lawn, leaving no trace behind.

High in the trees, the large bird crooned smugly, using its beak to tug a few of its feathers straight, before it spread its wings wide and burst into flames, disappearing as well.

And with that, no one knew what had happened to Harry Potter and, in the coming months, lives would be changed, some for better, some for worse, as the search for the ten-year-old boy spanned across the countryside.

Meanwhile, in a grassy field on the edge of a thick forest…

In a flash of deep green light, leaving a plume of greenish smoke to float away and disperse, Harry Potter's unconscious body dropped gently onto the thick grass, unknowing of just how drastically his life was about to change, nor the trials he was about to face.

And all because a Phoenix decided to interfere.

A/N: Whoot, Prologue finished! I like this one MUCH better than the first one. What do you guys think?

Feel free to review, complain, and suggest scenes or explanations you wished I'd had in the original, okay? ^-^ See ya around!