Chapter 1: Normalcy

Normal.

Normal was a word held most sacred at Privet drive Number 4, Little Whinging, Surrey. As sacred as the word was the concept of normalcy behind it, or what the residents of the house thought to be normalcy.

Residents, at least those whose views had any meaning in this matter, included Vernon, Petunia and Dudley Dursley. There was however one other person living in the oppressively normal house who -at least from the Dursleys' point of view- did his best to continually leap beyond the boundaries of normal. This made young Harry Potter abnormal, or, how Vernon liked to put it, freakish.

If you were to ask young Harry, he of course would say that strange things just kept happening to and around him, which he would be totally justified to say. Obviously no one ever did ask him.

The boy in question was a rather quiet one, small for his ten, almost eleven years, and very thin, an image not helped by the fact that he was wearing his cousins castoffs, which were several sizes too large for the underfed boy. He had jet-black hair, which always stood up in the back of the head (annoying his aunt not just a little bit) and brilliant, emerald-green eyes. The most prominent feature, at least in Harry`s eyes, was a scar on his forehead, shaped like a bolt of lightning. Harry could not remember a time when it had not been there, prominently displayed, sometimes tweaking him a bit.

It was a Saturday in early May, the alarm-clock in his bedroom (which just so happened to be a cupboard) had just hit 6am, when Harry Potter awoke. As it was a weekend day he still had a few minutes left to be by himself before it was time to prepare breakfast for the family. The timing had to be just right, as anything other than perfection in this matter resulted in severe consequences. He had learned this as a five year old, when he had first started making the weekend breakfasts: just once he had not woken up as early as he should have and when, at 7:30 sharp, his uncle had come down the stairs and sat down, the breakfast had not been on the table, he had received his first broken arm for his "lazy and freakish" behaviour. So, the next day, after the bone had miraculously healed itself overnight, making Vernon only the more livid, he got up earlier than ever before and had breakfast on the plates by seven. This had turned out to be an even bigger mistake, as when Vernon came down he declared eggs, bacon and sausages were cold and broke the arm again. Therefore, waking up on time was a rather crucial point to Harry Potter`s life.

After lying still for a few more minutes, Harry got up and started cooking breakfast. At her usual time, his aunt turned up in the kitchen, her only greeting "be on time, freak", went nearly unheard due to it being so much the usual. Petunia Dursley neè Evans was by no means a beautiful woman: She was tall, thin (qualities not necessarily ugly), a long neck to pry over fences and a face that could most closely be equated to that of a horse (most definitely an ugly quality, or so Harry thought).

At exactly 7:30 Uncle Vernon started to make his way down, the stairs groaning achingly under the walrus-like man`s weight. Behind him followed Harry`s cousin Dudley. Seeing those two together, Harry had no doubt in his mind whose son Dudley was as he, exactly like his father, was equally wide as he was high. Not that he was particularly tall, just very wide.

This perceived sense of normalcy however, was to be shattered most spectacularly.

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In another part of Britain, a purple triple decker bus jumped away with a loud BANG, just after having offloaded a rather weary looking elderly citizen. The bus sped through a small town in Suffolk BANG a rural road in Essex BANG Charing Cross Road in London BANG an annoyingly normal/boring neighbourhood in Surrey. Here, with a BANG that was decidedly different from the sound the jumping around elicited, the Knight Bus became visible. That, in and on itself would not have been a big problem, the problematic point however, was that it became visible to everyone.

oooooooooo

Harry Potter was weeding the flower beds in the front lawn when, all of a sudden and with a bright flash of light and a loud, booming sound, a bus appeared in the middle of Privet Drive. It was no normal Bus, as much was clear to Harry: It was bright purple, three stories high and out tumbled a rather old man mumbling curse words to himself, getting more and more irate.

"…of course, I told them to repair it, but why listen to me, neighbourhood full of muggles and the disillusionment aggregator breaks down. I'm getting too old for this dragon dung…" mumbled the seething man, just loud enough for Harry to hear. This caught his ears and he immediately started to watch with rapt attention.

Only minutes after the first BOOM, he started to hear more noises, similar to the first, yet distinctly different and definitely less deafening. Accompanied by a CRACK a strange man appeared in front of the now frightened boy; this man was wearing a rather curious combination of clothes consisting of combat boots, pyjama pants, a beige trench coat over a loud pink dress shirt, topped off by a woman`s straw hat. The man started to look around and his eyes fell on Harry, more specifically the scar shaped like a lightning bolt. Instantly his eyes grew wide and he fell on his knees, grasping Harry`s dirty hands in his own, starting to stumble out incoherent words. A few moments later, he drew a deep breath and started to talk, now almost managing to mask his immense agitation," Mr. Potter, it is such a great, very great honour to meet you. I thought you had been taken away from the wizarding world…"

Now he lost his countenance again, only to be interrupted by a now curious, if a bit scared Harry, "Who are you? Wizarding world? Please get away from me, my uncle will get angry…" his words left him mid-sentence as the man stared at him with an incredulous look, clearly not believing what he was seeing and hearing.

The stranger extricated himself from Harry, hopped up on his feet and drew out what seemed to Harry to be a strange stick of about 10 inches, muttered "obliviate" and Harry knew no more. Well, not nothing, something stuck: Wizarding world.

oooooooooo

Falling unconscious, as well as the abnormality of the weird bus appearing, which could only be due to Harry`s "freakishness", led to the worst beating the boy had experienced in his still short life. With several broken or cracked ribs and a broken radius to add to the numerous bruises all over his body, he dragged himself to his cupboard in the evening. Despite his pain, his curiosity was piqued.

Wizarding World….

Wizarding World…

"What can it mean? Magic? Uncle Vernon always says there`s no such thing like magic…" he mulled this over inside his head repeatedly without coming to any relevant conclusions and decided he would head to the library the first time he got the chance. It would be the new for him to go there to research something; usually it was to hide from Dudley and his gang when they did their ritual of 'Harry-hunting'. Books, or any form of storage of knowledge for that matter, usually drove them away rather effectively.

So, Harry resolved to go to the library the next day. After finishing his chores, that is…

oooooooooo

The following day, something miraculous happened; everything went according to plan. After his wounds had somehow healed during the night, Harry prepared breakfast, finished weeding the garden, cleaned the kitchen and scrubbed all toilets. It was a rather light workload, he thought.

Setting off to the library Harry contemplated a recurring dream of his that had returned just the same night. It did not contain a lot, mostly just fear, pain, a cold laughter and a blinding green light, but somehow he just knew it was the car crash his parents had died in. Where the green light and laughter came from he had no idea, still he was sure.

Caught up in these thoughts, he reached the public library and went to his usual spot by one of the windows in a chair where he usually waited for Dudley and his goons to get tired of waiting for him. This spot, however was now not nearly as isolated as it usually seemed to Harry; directly opposite his rather uncomfortable chair was a book shelf; nor just any book shelf, mind you, because it was transparent. Harry went over to the shelf, planning to touch it but found himself unable to do so. It was not that he could not reach for it, there was just nothing there for him to reach and as Harry tried to grab the shelf he just grabbed through it like through thin air. Thinking back he realised, he had never touched the shelf, something had always held him back. Now, though, his curiosity won and he stepped through the illusional shelf.

On the other side was another library, just as large as the 'normal' one. It looked, at least to a certain degree, similar. There were book shelves, chairs, tables; and that was about it for similarities. On differences Harry spotted torches and candles lighting the room, a strangely gigantic fireplace in one corner of the room and then he spotted the books…

Books in all shapes and sizes lined the walls, all of them old, all of them dusty, all of them bearing strange titles: Fantastic Beasts and where to find them, Moste Potente Potions, Hogwarts: A History, Numerology and Grammatica, a book called Secrets of the darkest Art that gave him a really queasy feeling and countless others. There was even a collection of magazines called Transfiguration today, the latest one of them dated to September 1980. He kept walking along, reading the titles on the backs of the book until…

The Potter Legacy…

It was a large book, at least two inches thick, the title done in gold to the background of the book`s black envelope. Full of curiosity, Harry pulled out the book and went to one of the chairs. He propped the book open to the first page and began reading.

The Potter Legacy

Anonymous

1492

New and revised Edition, October 1980

Revisions done by B. Bagshot

As Harry started skimming through the book, something fell out of the last pages. Picking it up, Harry found it to be a folded piece of a strange, paper-like material. Carefully opening, he could see what could only be a family tree, and a gigantic one at that. Boldly imprinted at the top were the words 'The Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter' and next to them sat a coat of arms in a magnificent gold and red, a shield divided by a cross in four, with the top left corner holding a pentagram and the bottom right corner displaying a magnificent golden beast, a mixture between eagle and lion. Deciding to start at the top, he saw a man called Ignotus Peverell at the very first layer of the family`s ancestry. Going through the layers upon layers of ancestors he saw just how old this family had to be, when his eyes fell upon a name that was specially marked, perhaps being important to the family history. That name, anointed with dates in the late 10th century, was Godric Gryffindor, who married a woman by the surname of Peverell. Harry could see, that a few generations later a man named Linfred, married to a woman of the surname Slytherin, had, for some reason, decided to take the name Potter.

With ever growing interest he continued down generation after generation, noting that only the firstborn son`s lineage was shown. When he came to the bottom of the page, his eyes nearly left their sockets:

Hardwin James "Harry" Potter

* 31.7.1980

Blood Status: Half-Blood

Heir Apparent

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"I'm telling you, Arthur, it was Harry Potter" the excited Obliviator from Magical Catastrophes by the name of Douglas Wilson excitedly informed the man in front of him in the cafeteria. The Obliviator had just returned from an exceedingly long and tiresome shift due to a little mishap involving a rampant hippogriff, a number of football fans and copious amounts of alcohol. "He looked just like the photos of his father I've seen," he continued, almost yelling at the kind-looking redhead with the receding hairline. Arthur looked at him questioningly. When nothing more came forth he asked, "Well, what`s all the ruckus about, then? I mean, I know he is famous but still…"

He could not say more because he was interrupted by Douglas, "He didn't know!"

"What do you mean 'he didn't know'?" Arthur enquired, now a little puzzled.

"He knew nothing about the wizarding world, I tried to thank him, but he had no idea why. Told something about his uncle, though. I had to obliviate him, you know the rules. Although I think I might have botched the charm…" here, the Obliviator trailed off, his more than 24 hours on duty finally catching up to him. "What are you doing here anyway, eh, Arthur? It`s Sunday!" he asked the man opposite to him.

"Ah, I had to get some stuff in Diagon Alley and the food here is just cheaper than at the cauldron. My youngest son starts Hogwarts this year, you know. Money…" Arthur gave the answer, a little glumly and in a shade of red worthy of the Weasleys. "Although now I might have a little letter to write, too…"

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Dear Professor McGonagall

Through a colleague of mine, it recently came to my attention that young Mr. Harry Potter, who I believe is supposed to start school this year, might not be aware of his heritage and even the magical world at large. I know he is a child of wizarding parents, but in my humble opinion, I think his case should be handled along the same lines as the cases of muggleborn students. From what I could read between the lines about my colleague`s encounter, it might even be sensible to send more than one fully trained wizard.

My sincerest regards

Arthur Septimus Weasley, Head of House Weasley

PS: My colleague also thought he might have been afraid of his Uncle

Arthur sighed. He had talked to Douglas Wilson a bit more and from what he could glean, Harry Potter had been afraid of this Uncle of his.

At that particular moment, he was really happy about not having McGonagall`s job. After sending out his missive with one of the ministry owls, he quickly made his way back to Diagon Alley to do his shopping.

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As he came home from his shopping, he was received by a magnificent barn owl he did not know with a letter tied to its leg. After removing the letter, he started reading.

Dear Mr. Weasley

My sincerest gratitude for the warnings I received from you earlier. From what I remember about the family with which young Harry has been placed it is quite possible, maybe even likely for him to be unaware of our world. This possibility certainly warrants switching the usual procedure for delivery to a personal visit.

What actually has me worried however, are the implications of him being afraid of his uncle. From the things I saw of his relatives when Albus and I were there to deliver him, it might mean that Harry has been abused, a possibility I have to admit came to me quite a few times over the last ten years and which has me terrified that leaving Harry there might have been a monumental mistake. Therefore I agree to your advice of taking another person with me, even though it is highly irregular.

Given the possible implications of what we are discussing, it might be prudent to involve as few people in this as possible. I am quite sure Harry would not want too many people to know if he was indeed abused. Would you, in light of these possibilities, be willing to accompany me to deliver the news? The less people know the better.

My Sincerest Regards,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

PS: Arthur, you might want to tell your colleague to be less talkative, it wouldn't do for the likes of Lucius Malfoy to hear young Mr. Potter is completely unaware, despite Albus` wards.

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AN: Okay guys, so much for the first chapter. Later chapters will be longer, but I just wanted to put everything into the right place to start. Besides general outlines, I don't know where this is going, so I won't answer any questions about that. It will however (if I have the stamina) be a full epos, years 1-7.

As I am a first-time writer, reviews are highly appreciated, but please keep them constructive. Good suggestions are always welcome.