So, first story posted here, this sure isn't awkward at all. We'll see what comes along.

I do not have a beta- though I'd definitely like one- so forgive possible errors. I did try to scan for them, but I think I've missed a few.

Disclaimer: As far as I'm aware, I'm not J. Κ . Rowling. Ergo, I don't own Harry Potter.


Harry, to his surprise, discovered that he was actually sort of liking this new arrangement.

Mrs. Figgs was a very odd woman, no doubt about that, and her house smelled horribly, but she treated him nicely. Definitely a ton better than the Dursleys. She gave him cake- it tasted funny, but hey, it was something- and let him watch TV. Her cats tried to maul off his face a couple of times, but well...

Compared to being stuck with his 'Aunt' Marge, or locked in the cupboard? This was paradise.

Maybe, he thought hopefully, if he was quiet and well-behaved enough, the woman would be willing to babysit him some time in the future. It was worth a shot, and there was no way Harry would waste the opportunity of a few future peaceful afternoons.

When Mrs. Figgs informed him that something urgent came up and she was absolutely needed somewhere, thus having to take him with her, since it couldn't wait until the Dursleys came back...Harry was absolutely delighted, at first. Dursley-free time and no horrible smells or murderous cats!

But when his babysitter started muttering something about a Mundungus, and a Ministry of Magic, and misuse of Muggle artecrafts, whatever all that was supposed to mean...His feelings were mixed. It all sounded terribly interesting, and he could feel curiousity nagging at him, almost going so far as to ask a question. But, it also seemed unusual, abnormal, and if his relatives found out he was even indirectly involved in something out of the norm, it probably wouldn't end well.

He was really curious though, and it wasn't exactly like he could just choose not to go...Of course, his relatives wouldn't care much about that if they found out, but he couldn't only hope that they wouldn't.

The woman guided him into a phone booth, only it was nothing like a phone booth because a voice came from it and Mrs. Figgs actually had a conversation with it, even though no one was there and then the not-so-phone-booth started going down into the ground like it was an elevator or something! If it was an elevator, why would people make it look like a phone booth?

The place they arrived to was seriously something else- the oddest building he'd ever seen. Harry was completely awestruck.

Mrs. Figgs gave him a glance and sighed. "Suppose I'll have to get someone to obliviate you when I'm done here. That utterly ridiculous Mundungus Fletcher! Stay here for a moment Harry, I'll be right back..."

Harry frowned as she walked off with another sigh and a shake of her head, to talk quietly to a man standing a few feet away. He glanced around, confused, at stranger building and the even stranger people running around- wearing very colourful robes and waving sticks.

He wanted to see more. He was curious about things, always had been, as much as he tried not to, but...this...it was more than curiousity. It was like a tug. Like something was there, calling for him and just like that, all thoughts of the Dursleys and the cupboard and even Mrs. Figgs were gone, and he was only half-conscious of his own feet dragging him forward.

He crept away from Mrs. Figgs soundlessly, a skill he'd been forced to obtain to avoid...rather unpleasant incidents, but none of that mattered at the moment. Either none of the odd people saw him wandering, or they didn't really feel like doing anything about it, because no one attempted to stop Harry's exploration.

He somehow reached a long corridor, with a black door at its end. His head tilted to the side in wonder and he headed towards it, feeling inexplicably magnetized by the door. It opened before Harry could even touch the doorknob, and he found himself in a big, round room, in which everything was pitch black; the floor and ceiling too.

There were about a dozen doors in the room, all identical, while between them candles with blue flames were burning.

Before Harry could take a step further, the walls were suddenly spinning, making him feel naseous. He'd closed the door behind him the moment he entered the room, and so now he had no idea where he came from. But somehow, driven by instinct perhaps, he still knew where he wanted to go.

This time the door also opened without a touch, and Harry was greeted with beautiful, entrancing dots of light, flickering and dancing in the air. He wanted to chase after them, sort of, but he had to continue, so he slipped between various desks and bookshelves in the room- clocks on all of them, and some clocks floating as well.

He found the clocks' ticking sound to be the most soothing thing in the world, filling him with serenity and happiness. Maybe if it wasn't for the mysterious magnetism- the need to go forward- he would have been content to stay there, motionless, forever, just listening to the clocks and watching the dancing dots.

His heart was fluttering excitedly in his chest, beating in sync with the clocks. Whatever it was he needed to find- and God, he needed it like he'd never needed anything before- he was getting closer.

Harry's hand were shaking as he pushed open the last door, the only one he had to physically open, breath coming unevely out of his mouth.

It closed behind him.

This was it.

The room was huge and magneficent, like an ancient altar. There were rounds and rounds of shelves, small glass orbs on them, looking very old and very dusty. Harry shivered, the air in the room being unexpectedly chilly.

Harry...

His name was whispered softly, urging him on, the whispers growing stronger as he went. encouraging him, and-

Abruptly, he came to a halt, gaping at a small, beautiful orb right on the shelf right in fron of him. It was the source of the thrilling, delicious whispers. He could feel it.

Harry couldn't reach it, he was too short, so he began climbing up the shelf, breaking some other orbs in the process. They didn't matter.

He paused again, as he saw the yellow label just below his orb.

"The Dark Lord and Harry Potter," he read slowly, his voice a confused whisper.

What was a dark lord? What did it have to do with him?

Harry...

It was calling for him again, and Harry was happy to comply. His hand wrapped around the pleasantly warm orb and he exhaled sharply.

Thiswasitthiswasitthiswasit.

He let go of the shelf and fell, but miraculously, was not hurt as he hit the ground.

"My name is Harry Potter," he breathed out, not knowing why, heart pounding in his chest.

The orb glowed brightly, and then a voice spoke:

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...

Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...

And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have a power that the Dark Lord knows not...

And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live will the other survives...

The spell was broken.

Fear, absurd, cold as ice fear, gripped Harry tightly, and the orb's effetc on him was gone. He let go of it with a gasp, watching it crash to the ground and shatter. Then her ran.

He ran faster than he ever had before to escape Dudley or Vernon, faster than he knew he was capable of running. Maddening, blinding, absolute terror consumed him.

He didn't know what he was running from and he didn't know where he was going, the madness only leaving him as he reached the room of clocks again and, not watching were he was going, crashed into a shelf full of them.

Panting heavily, he watched the shelf shake and collaspe to the ground, he watched the clocks break, one after the other. His surroundings changed. Images flickered in front of his yes, but they were gone before he could make out what they were- just a bright blur of colours- and then he was flying.

Harry landed abrubtly, legs bucking from the pressure and he fell on his knees. The bright light, sudden and coming in contrast to the darkness of before, brought tears to his eyes.

He blinked several times to adjust.

He was kneeling- well, standing once he'd gotten up- outside of a building he'd never seen before, imposing and dismal.

Just out of the gates, right in front of him, was sitting a boy his age, watching him in morbid fascination.

He had a snake wrapped around his shoulders.

The boy was dark-haired, pale, with narrowed blue eyes, and clothes in condition just as horrible as his own.

"H-hi," he croaked out, feeling very small and very timid and very ridiculous under the other's gaze.

The boy eyed him suspisiously. "Who are you? You are not from here."

He shrugged. "...Harry Potter. You? And where is here?"

He felt slightly hesitant to ask the questions, but he'd observed that most people, aside from his relatives, didn't seem to mind them all that much.

"You appeared out of nowhere. I saw you. How did you do that, Harry Potter?" the boy demanded, completely ignoring him.

His tone made Harry gulp, but he did not step backwards. "I don't know. I fell in some clocks."

"What?" the boy blinked at him.

"I don't know, I- uh," Harry sighed. "Nevermind, I'll...just leave."

"Stop him."

At the quietly hissed words, the snake sprung from where it was comfortably resting, and in the blink of an eye, curled itself around Harry's body, like a rope, making movement impossible.

"Let go of me!" Harry exclaimed, instictively struggling against the grip.

The boy's eyes widened, confused, curious, doubting. "You can speak to it, too? How?"

"Talk to it...you mean...you mean it understands our language?" Harry spluttered, just as startled as the other. If not more.

The snake hissed at him angrilly. "Of course not. You are speaking my language, foolish boy."

"What language?"

"You don't think serpents speak English, do you?" the boy drawled, giving him an unimpressed look.

Harry gaped. But he was speaking in English! All three of them were!

"I spoke in a foreign language?" he whispered.

The boy nodded. "That's correct."

"But I don't know foreign languages! How...?"

"You obviously do. Though how, I'd like to know too," the other mused, a gleam in his eyes. "You can appear out of nowhere- you still have to explain that one- and you can talk to snakes. What else can you do, Harry Potter?"

Harry's stomach knotted. It was true, strange things had a tendency to happen around him- he was unsure if he was the one causing them- but to admit that...He couldn't. It was abnormal and freaky and frowned upon, and he really couldn't risk the boy thinking badly of him, what with having a snake that obeyed the other restraining him.

And yet...the boy could speak to snakes as well, like he just discovered he could. He didn't seem disapproving of Harry's ability to do that, or of his sudden appearance. The look he gave Harry was appraising, calcuating...and maybe, somehow, a little bit hopeful.

"What can you do?" he asked quickly, hoping a little bit himself.

The boy hesitated, momentarily. "This, for one."

He focused his gaze on a fallen leaf on the ground, and in a swift motion it was lifted gracefully in the air, floating and spinning around itself.

"Oh wow," Harry murmured appreciatively. "That's amazing!"

The boy beamed, ever so slightly, his lips curling into a smirk. "Well? Can you do that?"

Harry bit his lip, uncertain. Would he be able to do it? Did he want to? It had seemed...impressive when the other did it, but he'd be in so much trouble if anyone discovered. Then again, the only one who could see him was the boy, and he didn't seem to consider these abilities a bad thing.

"I'm not sure," he replied, frowning. "But things happen, you know? Once I changed my shirt's colour, just by looking at it, and I fell from some place high without getting hurt...and well, I got here, too. I guess I can try?"

The boy nodded slightly, pushing the leaf to float up to Harry and fall by his feet. And suddenly, Harry burst out in a careless, happy laughter because it somehow seemed perfectly natural then that he should be able to do it- and sure enough, seconds later the leaf was in the air again, directed by Harry's will this time.

Amazing. This was amazing.

He was in a Dursley-free place, with a boy his own age, who didn't completely dismiss him or consider him a freak, who shared this strange and wonderful ability with him. It was almost like having a friend.

"So, what's your name?" he asked with a sheepish grin, beaming at the other boy.

A thoughtful pause and then, he opened his mouth to reply-

"Tom! Just how did you sneak out again? We locked everything!"

The boy- Tom- watched with a slightly irritated grimace as a flustered, clearly irritated woman exited the building and stormed towards them. Tom gestured for Harry to follow him, unlocked the gates with a flick of his hand, and slipped through them.

"Through the door," Tom replied solemnly.

She scowled. "That's impossible, you couldn't have- who is this?" She turned to Harry. "How did you get here, boy? Who are you?"

"...I'm Harry. Hi," he squeaked nervously.

"He fell in clocks," Tom added, very matter-of-factly.

"Clocks? Tom, I swear, if you had something to do with this...!"

"I'm just as confused as you are, Madame," he assured her, but she still looked incredulous.

"It's not his fault," Harry defended him quickly. "I just- er- got lost. Sorry. I'll leave."

"But you're still lost, no? Madam, surely you will not let him wander off? He is in need of help, and by the looks of it homeless and without a guardian. Logic suggests that he should stay," Tom pointed out.

Harry blinked. Stay? Stay where? He couldn't just stay in a foreign house- couldn't put them in so much trouble for him, it wasn't their fault that he ended up there. But even though Tom seemed to live in that building with the woman, he called her madam, so it appeared like it wasn't his home either. What exactly was this place?

"...Fine. Tom- to your room. Don't leave again. Boy- with me."

"Yes, Ma'am," they answered simultaneously, but the chilly smile Tom sent him behind the woman's back made him doubt the boy's sincerity.


I don't actually have a legimate excuse for the whole prophecy-whispers-to-Harry thing, but I figured that hey, the Veil whispers to him, the Horcruxes whisper to him, why shouldn't the prophecy whisper to him too?

...Hopefully the rest of the chapters will make more sense than this one.

Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it even a bit?