Mortuus Magica an ancient tome lost to history filled with power long since forgotten. Falling into the hands of a broken young child it will allow him to reshape the world in ways no one saw comin...
“creature or spirit speaking”
AN: well I finally thought I had an idea worth sharing so here's the first chapter of Mortuus Magica. This being my first story I am sadly lacking a beta reader so if anyone would like to volunteer please PM me and we'll see what we can work out
A deep blue cloudless sky filled with the light of the morning sun gazing down upon the peaceful town of Little Whining. This particular tale resides in one of the many identical homes on the lackadaisical Privet Drive. The residence being so unassuming that no one would ever begin to suspect that something was amiss about this home, and yet ignorance somehow proves to be the one catalyst that would forever disrupt the community's perfect little existence...
"Freak! Damn it, boy! Get you Godforsaken arse out here and earn your keep, you worthless freeloader!"
The portly man bellowed, slamming his rough, meaty hands on the door to the dank broom closet underneath the stairwell. As he stepped back, the door slowly opened to expose the morose form of a fearful boy doing everything within his power to appear small and unseen. The child called Harry limped forward and gazed upward at his uncle, barely managing to cap the anxiety that spun behind his vibrant, and deceptively intelligent green eyes. His black hair was thick with dust and dirt that caused it to cling limply in front of his face. The hair also served the purpose of concealing the peculiar scar on his forehead that was strikingly reminiscent of a bolt of lightning.
"Y-yes, U-u-uncle. What do you need me to d-do first," Harry inquired softly, his voice as harsh and dry as the dusty closet, obviously no stranger to dehydration. The nephew didn't need to be psychic to expect what would happen next. He hardly had time to flinch as his uncle began to lumber towards him like a furious ogre. The horrid guardian swung his fist onto the top of the child's head like a billy club, striking with enough precision that the bruise would remain above the hair line, causing the boy to fall the floor in a heap.
"What do you think I want you to do first ,you worthless sod? Dudley will be awake in a few hours, and you haven't even begun to prepare his special breakfast! It's his birthday after all, and he deserves to be celebrated, unlike scrawny burdens like you!" The boy's uncle turned his back and began to waddle away, leaving his battered ward to pick up his shattered dignity. However, the lad was grudgingly accustomed to the abuse, and stood to his full height with the floodgates of spite barely restraining his eyes and tongue.
"Fat old bastard" he thought, "I hope you 'precious, little Dudley chokes on his cake this year! That would be something special." The boy quietly chuckled at the thought as he slunk into the kitchen, careful not to gain the notice (or alternatively, ire) of his adoptive kin in the living room. Stealing glances into the adjacent room as he fiddled with the ancient stove, Harry made a relatively useless mental note of his second family: Loving husband, father, and all around scoundrel, Vernon Dursley proved to be worth little more than a self-absorbed stack of muscle with a mean streak as long as the German Autobahn. He didn't have much room left for a neck between his scratchy, round head and beefy body clad in a cheap suit.
"Trying to look impressive to the neighbors again, no doubt," the youth sneered as he poured steaming tea into three chipped cups with fading floral patterns, with none for him as always.
Next was the woman who was none other than his equally belligerent Aunt Petunia. She was a tall, gaunt, and altogether horse-faced woman with a neck that would make a giraffe glow green with envy. Her expression was rife with the tell-tale signs of self-preened hubris as overstuffed as the parlor couch. Mrs. Dursley was almost always clad in a lady-like sundress so tacky that the embroidered flowered piteously looked as if they were trying to peel away from the horrid ensemble. Harry shook his unkempt head at his aunt's hypocritical facade. "Always playing the good wife, eh, you ugly bitch?"
the child angrily thought as he turned into the kitchen.
He walked up to the stove his stool waiting for him to stand upon. Stepping up to the stove he begins to preheat the oven. Stepping back he drags his stool over and opens the refrigerator pulling out the ingredients for his fat cousins special breakfast. As he begins chopping up the vegetables nice and fine so his cousin doesn't notice them he looks at the knife, visions of running the blade across his aunts throat as the fat pigs are forced to watch staring dumbly as the blood drains from her body play through his mind, 'It would be so easy.' he thought, but like always the thoughts would remain just a fantasy
A few hours later he places the last of the food on the table as his cousin descends the stairs yawning groggily. Spotting his cousin he walks up punching him hard in the stomach causing the smaller boy to double over in pain walking into the room Petunia kicks the downed child in the side hissing out.
“Stand up you lazy good for nothing brat. Really laying down already, you've been lazing about in that room of yours for 3 days now and your already tired pathetic.” I'm sure by now your wondering just who is this poor, broken, beaten, scarred boy. This child is none other than young Harry James Potter, unknown to even him he's the hero the world has been waiting for for centuries. Slowly standing Harry gripped his aching side feeling a rib that had been cracked by his aunts pointed toed shoes. After the rest of the family had sat around the table Dudley began gazing lovingly at the small feast that had been laid before them.
“Oh thank you so much mummy this looks absolutely delicious.” He said in a sickeningly sweet voice filled with faked innocence.
“Of course dear. Anything for my little Duddykins.” The horse faced hag drawled out pinching Dudley's cheek feeling proud as if she was the one who cooked the meal. 'I wouldn't be shocked to find out that bitch could burn water.' Harry thought venomously enraged that the ugly woman had taken credit for his hard work again. He reached for one of the juicy bacon sandwiches sitting in front of him hungrily when suddenly his uncle drove a fork through the center of his hand the dull prongs piercing through skin and muscle passing clean between the bones through to the other side. Pulling his hand back with the fork still lodged in it the boy bit back a scream of agony he wouldn't give them the satisfaction of hearing his pain.
“What the hell do you think your doing you little pig!” Vernon roared “What put it into your greedy little head that this was yours to take, you'll get yours when the proper people have finished eating and not a moment sooner now shoo Duddies friends will be here soon and I don't want you scaring them off with you freakishness.” The walking meat sack demanded. Pulling the fork from his hand as he turned around the scarred boy hurried to the bathroom to quickly sanitize and wrap the new wound. “Worthless arseholes” he grumbles out barely audible over the running water as he washes away most of the blood from his unwanted new piercing. Washing the wound In rubbing alcohol and disinfectant and wrapping it in gauze he turns off the water and rushes out of the house.
Its not often they let him leave the house. As much as the Dursley's hated seeing him they were more afraid of his freakishness being found out by the neighborhood, so when he did get out he would rush as fast as he could to the local library. In spite of his guardians all but forbidding him from being smarter than his cousin he still enjoyed reading, his favorite subjects being history science and especially the occult. He would spend hours on end with his nose pushed deep into a stack of books.
Arriving at his destination a few moments later he quickly entered taking in the smell of books and artificially cooled air and turned to the non-fiction books. Entering the religious and culture section he sees a library assistant putting away books on ancient magic back onto the shelves. He is a tall thin man with light yellow blond hair. His gray green eyes light up with a playful light as he turned to Harry eyes gleaming out from a green and white striped bucket hat. The man grins largely seeing Harry.
“Oh I know you, you're that boy whose always reading about magic and such right.” He exclaims a strange kind of laughter in his voice. Harry finds himself nodding without meaning to making the man's grin grow larger. “Well I have a special surprise for you we just got this book in and I think you'll find it quite interesting.” The library assistant says lifting a black leather bound book from the cart and handing it to the boy before walking off. As Harry watches the man leave he suddenly notices his strange wooden sandals. Looking to the book in his hands he notices it is a thick book bound in a deep black leather on the front is a white mask that looks almost like some unusual skull behind it are a pair of curved crossed swords, 'katana' he recalled having read a bit about them a few months back, above the image written in a deep crimson red are the words Mortuus Magica. Opening the book a small note falls out, and floats slowly almost lazily to the floor. Picking it up Harry sees the note reads 'Use it well.' Turning quickly he finds the strange man is gone.
AN: And so concludes the first chapter of Mortus Magica. So what did you think Good, Bad, The Greatest first chapter you've ever read maybe Hahaha. But seriously any feed back is good feedback please feel free to tell me what you think and if you can tell me both what the title of the book means and the name of the man who gave it to him ill put in a OC of yours as one of the new main characters of the story so like all the others say