The Boy and the Beginning.

A/N: this is an AU, majorly, that will touch base on some cannon, but otherwise will go its own way. As usual, updates will be sporadic. My life is hectic. Sorry to those who were waiting for updates on my other fics. I kind of lost my steam for writing for a bit, this is to get me back into the swing of things. Oh yes, if there is a pairing in this one, it will be slash, though at a much later, 16 year old HP. The rating is just to cover my hiney in case of foul language or something.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to its creator, mentions of the other fairy tales and stories that the character reads in the fic are the properties of those who created them. Any Geographical information/place information is the property of Wikipedia.

Chapter 1: The Boy and the Box.

Harry James Potter was of the opinion that he was not Normal. Of course "Normal" being with a capital 'N' as his family often emphasized just how Normal they were when ever it was brought up on conversation, or they felt something within their presence that was less then capital "N." Harry was one of those things that did not meet his relative's high expectations. In fact he was so not what they were, that they often called him "Abnormal" with a capital 'A' to leave no doubt in anyone's mind how unlike he was to them.

To accent this difference Harry often noticed differences that were natural to the state of being Normal and Abnormal.

For example, Harry Potter was, by nature, a rather quiet child, who was often as scarce as a shadow at high noon when he could be. He took being a non-entity as a matter of course, and was often proud when an adult that did, on the rare occasion, notice him, seemed baffled by the sudden appearance of a small bespectacled boy with knobby knees and horrendous glasses.

The Dursley's meanwhile, were loud, opinionated and of two of the three, took up much of the available space within a room whenever possible.

Harry had a decent hand at scavenging and nicking things from other peoples window sills, garages and yards. Though he wasn't a greedy boy and usually
only took the odd useful knick-knack, like a skipping rope from a fellow classmate's backpack as a belt for the latest season's hand-me-downs, the oldest grimiest winter gear from a neighbor's open garage, a cooling pie on Mrs. Number
7's window, or a piece of meat from an untended BBQ or a garden of tomatoes. They were all unnoticeable, relatively, and easy to hide in his cupboard.

Mr. Dursley often took the more respectable ends of his family out for expensive dinners where you could choose a luckless lobster in water row for your main course.

These were some of many differences between himself and his relatives, and there were times when he would even wonder if they were even the same species.

Then there happened upon such a day, like many other, where Harry had been sent outside to wander around the neighborhood while his aunt held her weekly get together that came as close to the big "N" standard as possible in Petunia Dursley's vision.

It was he was meandering past Number 12 that his eyes happened to trace over a box at the end of the driveway, a box filled to overflowing with a wide variety of books. His inherent practicality, remembering that his Uncle's sister marge would be visiting in a few weeks and thus he would be staying in his cupboard for the majority of the visit saw a source of material that would occupy him during the long stretch and alleviate his boredom which he considered to be a rather cruel fate for anyone really.
So with a casual glance around him to check for neighbors that might take exception to his intent, noting the all clear for the moment, he grabbed the box and made for the closest bushes for cover, and managed to make it home without being caught, though this was larger and more cumbersome then his usual marks.

After his Aunt's friends had left and the woman had retired upstairs to watch her stories, Harry used the short window to sneak himself and his prize back into his cupboard under the stairs where he safely squirreled them away in a dark corner behind an old vacuum cleaner.

As he set about peeling potatoes for dinner (after all Abnormals served Normals to earn their keep), he congratulated himself on his good fortune.

ooo ooo ooo

Despite what it might look like, Harry taking a big pile of books to read to stave off boredome, he was by no means some sort of super genius; however, he had picked up reading and some basic math out of necessity when he had been assigned the cooking once deemed old enough to be coordinated to handle a stool and the cooking implements. He did, however, know the value of books. He remembered a program on the telly one evening that the Dursleys had not been aware that he was watching, about how education was important.

The best way to learn things, he had reasoned from his experiences with school, was from books.

Harry wanted a future away from the Dursley's someday, and knew that without a good education he would not be able to escape them.

It wasn't until Aunt Marge arrived, and as expected, he was sitting in his cupboard, did he even bother cracking open of his new aquirments open.

One of the things that separated the everyday normal people with a small 'n' from the more exemplary big 'N's like the Dursleys was that they absolutely abhorred anything fantastical in nature being even mentioned in passing in their presence.

There was no fantasy stories, no make believe, things that were a common theme in many children's lives such as fairy tales, myths, and legends, even the tooth fairy and Santa Clause, were never mentioned in the Dursley household.

The Dursleys also made sure that the teachers of the boys never talked about unnatural things that were usually found when teaching things, emphasizing the protection of impressionable youth, that stories like dragons that breath fire will give children ideas and soon the entire neighborhood would run wild with hooligans setting fires, kidnapping women, and stabbing people through the chest with various sharp instruments. The campaign was backed by a fair few of the big "N" crowd of Vernon's acquiescence, including a few that were big donators to the school district. This and because the school board was of the most unimaginative sort anyway, it was accommodated easily.

So when Harry picked up the book at the very top, a slightly large, dog eared book filled with fairy tales, he was amazed, once he got over his bafflement, at the sheer rich unnaturalness he was faced with in the words of the Normally forbidden book.

His wide hungry eyes traveled over words that painted distant fictional countries, folktales of fantastical creatures, and stories of mighty heroes, gods, and all sorts of forbidden subjects that the boy had not realized existed until that moment, and all so deliciously taboo.

He had been led to believe that books were the way to learn about the real world, at least so said his school when children complained about homework, so said the Dursley's when Vernon needed use the instruction manual for Dudley's latest bike, or petunia needed Harry to do a recipe she found in a cookbook a specific way.

Harry enjoyed the stories, as he passed the time, but he couldn't understand exactly how this related to knowledge of the world. He understood fiction, yes, but he had read fictional stories about romance and crime mysteries and such, filched from his relatives recycle bin, to understand that they were at least based on some sort of truth that could be recognized in the real world. After all, there was romance in the real world, he had seen it between Petunia and Vernon sometimes and the rest of his neighbors, he also knew that there was crime and people who solved them from newspapers and the news and such. So how did his new stories reflect things in the world?

He had yet to see dragons, or dwarves that mined diamonds (1), or mad hatters drinking tea with mice and hares (2).

He was rather stumped about it all, despite his enjoyment.

ooo ooo ooo

In the school year after Harry turned 8, Harry's confused but avid forbidden relationship with those books were put into a whole new perspective.

He had been running from his large cousin and his friend, having the misfortune to accidentally be noticed by his cousin on the playground. Dudley and his cronies were bored, and decided that a spot of Harry Hunting would liven things up tremendously.

Harry, being smart, of course ran. He was usually nimble and rather quick, but that day he made the bad mistake of running into a dead end between two buildings on the school grounds. As he ran towards a dumpster, panicked at his situation, knowing he was in for a world of pain when he was caught by his cousin. Then he thought, suddenly, of his favorite story, Peter Pan, and wished dearly in that moment, that he could just fly away into the sky and hide in the clouds where no one would reach him.

That's when a sudden rushing sensation filled him, a feeling of intense, though not uncomfortable warmth and weightlessness filled him, and then the world around him tilted.

Harry wasn't there to see his confused cousin and friends as they rounded the corner, finding nothing but a lone dumpster and grimy walls.

Ooo ooo ooo

When Harry regained his equilibrium, he was treated to the terrifying sight that only the school pigeons were graced with.

Wisteria Primary School spread beneath him like a tiny toy set.

Only years of having the urge to scream forcefully repressed in him kept from that very thing happening and thus attracting attention to himself, though given his location and current level, there wasn't anyone that would have heard him.

His cloths were trenched from the nearby clouds all around him, and he shivered in the wind and high altitude.

It took him quite a while to calm down.

When he was calm enough for some coherent thought, he considered his situation.

He was hovering, quite high above his school. No machine of any kind was supporting him, just open air all around him, as if gravity had sort of half-forgotten him.

He applied his hard earned rationale to the situation.

He had been running, high on emotion and worry. Then suddenly, he was up in the air.

Then he remembered the wish he had before that strange, weird rushing warmth happened.

He had wanted to be up in the sky, like Peter Pan.

It suddenly clicked. An epiphany that would completely change everything for one boy.

His books! The fairy tales! The legends, the myths, etc. they had talked about people that could fly!

Peter Pan, though fictional, was at the character's most basic level just a boy who could fly. Harry, in this moment, at his most basic level, was a boy who was currently flying, well hovering at the moment, but still up in the air.

That was it!

His stories actually did have an application in the real world! They applied to him! They must be part of the capital "A" that Harry sat under. That was it! it all seemed so clear to him now!

The fantasy stories he had read were filled with things that were not part of the Normal world. Therefore, that must mean they Were opposite, the Abnormal world. After all, Peter Pan was a flying boy, and Harry, who was Abnormal, could fly like Peter-Pan. Therefore, Peter-Pan was an Abnormal story, as were other stories like it.

He had another thought: could Harry do other things that were mentioned in the stories?

For the first time ever, Harry felt a strong wave of excited expectation, glee, and purpose.

Ooo ooo ooo

Harry used his time floating among the clouds to figure out what he was going to do. He was a child who knew the values of setting goals and having plans. While he didn't have a really detailed one yet, just a sure notion of something to do, he decided that his first goal was figuring out how to get down.

It took him an hour, fits and starts, and near plummets, to figure out that this flying, while definitely harder than Peter made it seem, was all about wanting to be in a particular place or direction, at the same time, wanting it to happen at a particular speed. That last part he had learned the hard way after nearly crashing into the school roof.

By the time he had touched ground, he was exhausted and the sun was almost down.

He groaned and hoped no one had called the Dursleys about him missing.

ooo ooo ooo

He was lucky.

They had a substitute that day, and Harry's unobtrusive nature had made it so the woman didn't remember he was even a part of the class. Further luck was with him, in that the Dursleys didn't care that he was missing, so long as he was home to do chores, and that evening, he had been excused from cooking, as the Dursleys were invited to a dinner party for his uncles business, leaving Harry locked in his cupboard for the evening as soon as he walked into the door.

He used this boon of quiet to fine tune his thoughts.

He was very tired. He figured that whatever it was, magic he supposed, a word mentioned so much in the books, obviously needed some work. He reasoned it was like an unused muscle, something he had read about in a health book once, that needed practice to become stronger.

Since flying was the first thing he had done, and practical for the forming plan in his young mind, he decided that he would work on this flying until he would no longer be as tired as he was, and could do it with the same ease as Peter, or as close to it anyway.

Nodding to himself, he settled into a deep sleep.

Ooo ooo ooo

A/N: (1): Snow White, (2) Alice in Wonderland.

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