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Prologue. Power of the Sunset.

Disclaimer: I own harry potter… wait J.K rowling has a penis?… HOLY CRAP… wait no I only dress up in women’s clothes to pretend I am J.K so I can own harry… wait stupid me.

AN: this is like prologue so the actual chapters will have a lot dialogue and less scene description and more from harry’s head so I will be in like normal pov.


Sunset. there are many features about a sunset, many think it is romantic others calming but almost everyone agrees it is one of the more beautiful sites that a man can see, and he can see it daily, but would never tire of it because they are always different. One boy a very young boy about the age of seven, always liked the sunset, moving over the horizon escaping from his part of the world, the boy was envious of the sun, of the simple principle of freedom, freedom of movement freedom of life and freedom of the soul. This boy, Harry James Potter, did not have any of these freedoms and was envious of the sun because of all its freedoms, and all its power, the unsurpassable power to light up the whole globe from millions of miles away. Harry wished he could have that power...or any power.

But alas living the Dursley family took away all the power he had. He was completely powerless and nothing scared him more than this lack of power. How he wished he could have complete control and power at least one part of his life, any part, just one piece that could be his haven away from everything. One last piece of hope that when he finally escaped instead of falling in upon himself, as unlikely as that seems due to the circumstances of his living, he would bounce back and know the taste of freedom and be somewhat prepared for it.

He seemed to be completely self dependent but he knew different, he knew absolutely nothing about the real world, yes he was one of the smartest, and brightest children in school, but he learnt his lesson of showing his true colors when his report gave grades much higher than his cousin, Dudley. That left his for another week without food and only one glass of water a day but somehow he managed fine, exiting his cupboard under the stairs looking the same just a little could careworn and dirty. Things like this also puzzled poor Harry, for although he would deliberately do bad on his tests to make Dudley look good he knew that someone could not go without food for several days, especially a child, a malnourished child at that.

But here he was now, watching the sunset, escaping over the horizon to a new land where it would be greatly appreciated and welcome, so very unlike Harry. Watching the sunset usually calmed Harry, but not tonight, no tonight he was afraid. At that very moment Harry was several tree limbs up in a very old and ancient looking tree, it had a whole magnitude of whorls and knots within the wood, and it felt oddly comfortable within its limbs. But fear of what to come outweighed what ever comfort the tree gave Harry.

For you see, Harry was no where near home, well the Dursley’s home, at the moment and that was because the very same Dursley’s thought it would be ever so wonderful to go camping, or more specifically talking about all the camping adventures they could have and safely living them out in the safe warm and cozy rented cabin, where all Harry was a half empty wood bin along the side of the cabin. The woodbin was not too bad it was roomier than his cupboard and he had layered enough old bark, sawdust, woodchips and shavings into a decent and warm bed.

If that was the case why, you may ask is he indeed stuck high up in the tree. Why Dudley of course, and his gang of merry little dumplings. One of Dudley’s favorite games was one that his gang made up, Harry Hunting. Such a lovely game Harry Hunting is, just fantastic, lots of running joyful screams, not so joyful ones, the flush of the chase, the pride of catching your prey, and the relief of avoiding the hunters. This Is what he was doing at the moment, avoiding the hunters. Although they gave many an hour ago when they realized they just weren’t agile enough to climb the tree to get to Harry. But Harry knew as soon as he got back to the Cabin, Dudley and two of his little play pals would soon again take up the chase.

Harry was too tired and sore though now to go back, not only would he have to face Dudley but is Aunt and Uncle too, and they could be so much more hurtful than Dudley ever could. His uncle Vernon was much stronger than Dudley and was not so easily distracted, he was a lot more focused when he went to punishing him, either with his belt, or a table tennis bat that he found in the garage when Harry first clean it. Vernon had kept it as a psychological torture, Harry was so proud when he finished cleaning it and his achievement was being used to beat him. It was perhaps one of the most humiliating things on earth, and his uncle knew that.

His aunt Petunia though, she was a master of crushing his mind. All he ever wanted was to be loved, and his aunt took great pleasure exploiting that fact. Her favorite fact was when his uncle would be particularly harsh to him, his aunt would come into his room at night a clean the wounds with a tender care of someone who loved him. This was all a farce when he had relaxed and all the wounds were clean she would pull out a small spray bottle filled with salt water. Petunia would then calmly spray all his wounds with the salt water with a small coy smile upon her faced while he screamed out his pain. The physical pain Harry could handle, put the process in which it happened was worse, a loving touch, followed by pain, lots and lots of pain. He feared I would scar him for the rest of his life, never being able to touch anyone, or be touched by anyone without fear of pain. He hated his family.

Harry harshly grasped the tree just thinking about his family, but he suddenly yelped and clutch his hand. Looking to the side he saw a stick bug like creature staring at him with harsh, razor sharp, bloodstained claws. Harry looked down at his hand and saw a fairly shallow but long cut on the back of his hand. Harry knew from experience that shallow cuts bleed a lot, hurt a lot, but overall did no lasting damage to him.

Leaving his hand to bleed out, he looked back at the creature to find it gone from his view. It was strange, as harry had no friends at school, again thanks to Dudley he spent his time in the small library reading what ever informative books he could find, and never hand he heard of a stick bug that had razor like claws, and living in England, where The majority live in rainforests and the jungle. He pasted it off though as the many strange things that happened in his life, like talking garden snakes, spiders doing as he said within his cupboard, suddenly appearing on the school roof, and of course growing his hair back all in one night. All of these things gave testament to the fact that he was a freak, just like his family says he is.

With frustrated tears, stinging his eyes he grips the tree tighter preparing for a cold night in the tree. With the sun finally over the horizon, Harry didn’t want to risk finding his way back to the camp in the dark scared of getting lost, and the tree was just so comfortable, it seemed so warm, almost like it was giving off some sort of calming energy. Harry closed his eyes and struggled to stay awake unsure why, it was just like he knew something was going to happen. Snapping his eyes open and jerk up straight he looked down and saw more of the stick bug like figures, three in total clawing into the tree almost like they were carving something out of it.

He could feel it now that he was fully awake, the tree was exuding a powerful energy, it was pulsing with it and it seemed to originate from where the stick bugs where carving into the tree. Harry was concentrating on the pulsing energy, to determine what it was, and he could feel his senses drifting, and he could feel the energy drifting within himself, swirling into his body to his centre, his core, to the place where it itched when ever something weird happened. He could feel more strands of energy now, coming from many things, the trees around the one he was sitting a whole manner of bugs and birds, he could feel everyone of them, he sparrow swooping down on a small caterpillar and devouring it, the baby chick eating from its mother, and the slates eating away at the leaf liter on the ground. He could feel all the organisms giving off energy and he could feel himself gathering it in. he could feel the energy leaving him now, flowing back into the place where the small but powerful bugs were carving out something from the tree. Harry reached down to what the bugs carved out, feeling as if it belonged to him, as it was part of himself, but before he could grasp it one of the bugs slashed at his open palm, splattering blood along the side of the tree and all along the carving.

The carving, an almost foot long piece of wood, fairly sleek, and it seemed somewhat bendy, for wood, gave a great flash and seemed to absorb the blood that was splattered upon it and darkened in color from a reddish brown, to emphasized the red streaks and grains within the wood. He looked down and the stick bugs and saw that they were scurrying away. He deemed it safe now to grasp the foot long stick around the thicker end which had been carved it a handle somewhat, and pulled in out the side of the tree. As it left the tree Harry could feel the flow of energy change, directing all of the strands through his new stick, and back into him filling him with new energy. The flow was getting stronger and stronger until it reached a peak where the air around him seemed to glow, the wind flowed violently around him, the clouds above broke sending down waves of rain from the heavens, lighting streaking through the sky thrusting down into the middle of the small forest striking a very ancient looking tree, with a small boy holding a stick to the level of his eye with the violent winds whipping his hair around his face, the rain plastering his clothes to his body and the animals are around him keening in praise at the power the small boys is absorbing. But that one fierce lighting bolt, striking the stick like a lighting rod, and flowing through the boys body, frying the water in his clothes making steam shoot from his body and hair, and launching the boy from his perch in the ancient looking tree.

Harry had one last thought before the black abyss of unconsciousness claimed him. One thought he deemed worthy to be vocalized.

“Whoa!” after it croaked out his mouth his eyes slid shut despite his protest and a deep sleep claimed him while his body went to work putting all that absorbed energy to good use.