The Druids Apprentice

Ch-1

It was a sweltering day in Surrey and the heat had driven the occupants of Privet Drive indoors. The streets were deserted and quiet. Absent were the normal summertime sounds of dogs barking or children laughing. So miserable was the day that even the air itself seemed to lack the energy for the slightest breeze. The entire neighborhood looked completely deserted by its residents except for the slight figure weeding the flower garden outside number four.

He was small even for a child of five, A Rail thin boy with messy brown hair and clothes many sizes too large for him and at first look he seemed a child much younger. It was only if he met your gaze would you stop to look again. Striking emerald eyes peered out from under his messy bangs and on any normal day would sparkle with the boys intelligence and a wisdom beyond his years.

Had you been looking for it you'd have also seen a mark on the boys forehead quite unlike any normal scar in the shape of a lightning bolt. He'd had it for as long as he could remember and was the last thing that his parents had ever given him. It was a souvenir, so he was told by his aunt and uncle, of the traffic accident that had killed his mother and father when he was a baby. He had been left on their doorstep the day after and had been living with his relatives ever since.

Harry Potter was of two minds about weeding the garden that day. It was frightfully hot and he felt at times that he may pass out if he didn't get out of the heat. At the same time he knew that if he stopped and went inside the punishment that he would receive would be much worse. The boy was constantly reminded of his general uselessness and how his parents had been nothing but freaks. He knew that if he stepped out of line in the least, whether actually or just in his aunt and uncles estimation, he would be locked in his cupboard and not allowed to eat for two and sometimes three days.

Having worked all morning in the parched dirt, Harry wiped his face with a grimy hand. His hair and clothes were soaked with sweat and it dripped onto the badly scratched lenses his glasses making it all the more difficult to see. As another bout of dizziness came and went and the boy was considering daring his relatives anger by getting a glass of water the air about him abruptly changed.

A cool breeze swept through the neighborhood and the oppressive heat vanished. A light mist began to fall from the sky with a promise of something more substantial in the clouds above. Harry sat up to let the cool breeze flow about him when he noticed an old man watching from the fence to the house next door.

The boy felt uncomfortable and tried to make himself smaller against the side of the house. His aunt and uncle had made it quite clear that he was not to have anything to do with the neighbors or do anything that might spread word of his abnormality. The man, however, seemed not to care at all for the wishes of his relatives and seemed determined to get to know him. "Beautiful day for gardening." The old man said with a smile. Harry continued pulling weeds without answering though he would sneak peeks at him through his bangs.

The man did seem nice enough and the boy took a moment to study him. He was easily the oldest man Harry had ever seen. His hair and beard were snow white and fine as spun silk. Tan leathery skin and a lean body were a testament to a lifetime spent outdoors in the weather. The mans face was kind and gentle with a roadmap of wrinkles and laugh-lines etched into his face. Below bushy eyebrows twinkled two green eyes, every bit as bright and intense as Harry's own. The only thing that really seemed out of place on him was a drab pinstripe gray suit that the boy was sure his Uncle Vernon owned several similar, though much larger, versions.

Unperturbed by the boys general lack of response the man continued. "How thoughtless of me," The man tipped his bowler hat. "Merrill Forester... and you'd be Harry?"

The boy blinked. "H... How did you know my name?"

"Well who else would you be?" was the mans response, acting as if there couldn't be any other. "Back to your weeding now, before your aunt and uncle get their knickers in a twist."

The boy quickly turned to check the window above him, finding it empty he looked back to the man... or where he'd been. The old gentleman he'd spent the past few moments talking to had simply vanished.

The week passed and Harry saw his mysterious new neighbor infrequently. Aunt Petunia had spent hours on the telephone with other neighbor women wildly conjecturing what could bring a single old man to live at six Privet drive. She had questioned Harry that first day, asking if he had seen or heard anything from their new neighbor. Not knowing why, the boy had replied he'd not seen anything and was sent to start dinner. Petunia spent the afternoon peering out the kitchen window with a pair of opera glasses trying to get a peak at the mysterious stranger.

The few times Harry had seen the man he had been working diligently on the garden at the back of his house. The old man seemed to have a way with plants and in the matter of a few days the barren little plot had become green and beautiful. He had made a beautiful lattice-work archway entwined with flowering vines. The way he had with plants seemed almost magical. The boy would stand at the fence in the back, when time and his chores permitted and just bask the aroma coming from the other yard.

About a week into his stay, Petunia's curiosity was satisfied by a knock at the door. "BOY!" yelled Vernon, "Answer the door, make yourself useful for once!" Quickly putting away the bucket and brush he had been scrubbing the kitchen floor with, Harry went to the entryway and opened the door.

Bowler hat in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other, the man spared a quick wink at Harry before announcing himself in a fairly loud voice. "Good afternoon my boy is your mother or father at home?"

The boy gaped at him and had yet to form an answer when Petunia materialized out of the kitchen and roughly pulled Harry behind her. "Good afternoon... Mr. Forester isn't it?"

"Yes, my dear, Merrill forester at your service." with a flourish and a small bow the man presented her with the flowers as if she had been royalty. Pleased and more than slightly flustered the woman invited the man into their home. "Please do come in and meet my husband and son..." She grabbed Harry by the scruff of the neck and propelled him towards the kitchen. "Tea and biscuits boy," she whispered, "quickly now."

Scurrying into the kitchen the boy put on a pot of tea and arranged the biscuits on a platter along with four cups. When everything was ready the boy carried the heavy tray into the sitting room just as Mr. Forester was commenting on Petunias garden.

"It's quite wonderful. I see that your begonias are doing very well despite the heat." Taking note of the boys arrival, the gentleman continued, "And there is the little gardener I saw my first day. You've introduced me to this fine strapping lad..." Merrill waved a hand at Dudley, "as your son so this one is..."

Vernon, looking a bit ill put in, "The boy is Petunia's sisters son, he was sent to us four years ago after his parents were killed in a car crash." The old mans eyebrows rose. "A crash you say... Must be quite a burden on all of you having to look after a child not your own."

Taking the mans words as recognition of their plight, Mr. Dursley continued, "The boy is lazy and good for nothing. He is a financial drain on my family. His parents were unemployed and penniless when they died and we've been footing the bill for them ever since."

Mr. Foresters eyes were unreadable, "I'd bet the boy doesn't understand all the sacrifices you've made for him."

"Totally ungrateful he is," replied Mr. Dursley," and the day he turns of age and we can be rid of him wont come too soon."

The old man seemed ready to say something further as Vernon finished but he stopped, took a breath and smiled. "You know, what the boy needs is discipline, honest hard work. I'm getting on in years and could use some help with my gardening. Perhaps you could send him over mornings work for me." Mr. Dursley balked at first, not wanting the boy out of his or his wife's sight. "Of course I'd be willing to pay you for the boys help, perhaps it could go a small way towards paying his keep." While pig-headed and stubborn, Vernon Dursley was no fool. The two men quickly settled down and haggled a price for the boys services.

Harry stood in shock at the change in the man that had come through the door. He had seemed so nice man at first, and the boys instincts still told him to trust the man. In just the few short minutes that he'd been making tea the man had turned into another Vernon. Going back to his cupboard the boy waited miserably for the night to be over.

Morning came with the usual list of chores from the Dursleys. "And you'll get everything doneas well as helping Mr. Forester in his garden or there'll be no supper for you tonight." His uncles words followed Harry out of the house and next door where he rang the bell. He pushed the button twice more before the door opened and Harry stood with mouth agape.

Mr. Forester stood before him in a nightshirt that went well past his knees, it was sky blue and covered with smiling moons and stars. On the mans head was a long night cap, the end laying over one shoulder and a fuzzy white tassel at the end. Covering his feet were a pair of fuzzy pink bunny slippers. "Harry! Good morning, come in! I'm just having a spot of breakfast, won't you join me?" The boy gaped in astonishment as he was pulled into the house.

Harry felt like he was in another world. All the houses on Privet drive were nearly identical on the outside, it just seemed natural that they be quite alike on the inside as well. Mr. Foresters house, however was nowhere anything like his aunt Petunias.

His entire front room was nearly buried in books of all shapes and sizes. They lined the walls, covered every flat space in the room and he could have sworn he'd just seen one scurry under the couch. Plants filled the corners of the room giving it a homey, earthy scent, quite unlike the disinfectant smell at home. The kitchen, was even more outlandish. An owl perched on a bar over the sink and a rabbit was cleaning itself on the counter. Herbs hung from the ceiling, giving the room an 'earthy' smell and on the kitchen table was a place setting for two people, each plate loaded with eggs, bacon, sausage and some oddly shaped things that he found out later were American waffles.

Taking two tea cups from a small cupboard the old man prepared some for them both and sweetened them with honey. Guiding the raven haired boy to a chair he took the other and sat. "Take a seat Harry, eat up."

The boy looked at him with tears forming in the corners of his eyes... "But sir, I can't..."

Merrill let out a great sigh and muttered. "Damn them all... wizards and muggles alike..." Turning his chair to face the boy, he took another deep breath and said, "Harry, I know your relatives don't allow you breakfast and would be quite upset if you had it here, yes?" the boy nodded. "But your uncle also sent you over here and told you do as I said?" Again the boy agreed. "Well then, it's simple enough. I'm telling you to eat all your breakfast and not breathe a word of it to the Dursleys." The scrawny boy thought about it for a few seconds then a slow smile crept across his face and he carefully started into his meal.

Harry ate like someone starved, which in fact he was. On the best of mornings he would be lucky to see a dry piece of toast or perhaps scraps off his uncles plate before he washed it but only if he didn't get caught by his aunt Petunia. The boy started out to only have a bit as he wasn't used to eating large meals. The more he ate, however, the more he wanted and he seemed to never get full. Finally and for the first time he could remember Harry stopped eating feeling satisfied.

When all the dishes were empty and placed in the sink, Harry looked to the man and asked, "Yesterday you were so different with my family and how did you know about breakfast?"

The man gazed back at him with a twinkle in his emerald eyes. "Observant, I'm glad they haven't beaten it out of you yet... My boy I've been watching you for some time. I know the type of people the Dursleys are and what it would take to get you away from them. As to the why of it... come out and see my garden."

They walked to his back door and the man waved for Harry to take the lead. Looking oddly at the man, the little boy opened the door and stood thunderstruck yet again. "Of course there will be some explanations in order..." the man said with a grin as they both looked out on his 'garden' which was interspersed forest and meadows as far as the eye could see.