Prodigy

Prodigy - n. pl. prod·i·gies A person with exceptional talents or powers: a math prodigy.

Harry Potter was running. It was a situation he found himself in quite often, for when being chased by a group of people somewhat larger than oneself, it is a good idea to run. Unfortunately for the seven year old boy, there was a specific group of larger boys that took a special interest in chasing him. On the occasions that he was caught, the beating afterwards would only enrouage him to run faster next time. When 'next time' came around (and it always did), sometimes he was able to run just a little faster and gain a few precious seconds needed to escape.

This was not one of those times. Harry could nearly feel the goons breathing down his back as he ran. His eyes dashed frantically to his different surroundings in an attempt to discover some safe haven. None was located.

Harry turned a corner and found himself in an alcove at the school he was currently at. He cursed to himself for his stupidity in not looking at where exactly he was running to, but it was too late to change anything. The dumpster caught his eye and he found that it looked to be a somewhat safe hiding place. He could find nothing better in his current situation. He made to jump into it while wishing he was someplace, anyplace safe.

He wished very hard.

Suddenly, Harry found himself in a strange place. One moment he had been in midair about to collide with a dumpster, and the next he was falling down in the middle of a strange living room. Harry pulled himself up and took stock of his surroundings.

There was a fireplace off to one side with a leather love seat in front of it. Off to another side, there was another group of furniture surrounding a coffee table with a thick layer of dust. When Harry noticed the dust, it was like he couldn't focus on anything else. All of the sudden he realized that everything in the room was coated in the fine gray matter; it was obvious that no one had been in the room for several years.

Harry saw something out of the corner of his eyes and felt them drawn back to the fireplace. Specifically, the mantle over it. There was a banner displaying a coat of arms in deep red and gold. The coat of arms was a silver shield with a fierce looking animal on it. The animal was something Harry had never seen before. It looked to be the cross between a horse and a bird of some sort.

The animal was not the most important thing on the banner, however. Underneath the shield was a single word was printing in bold silver lettering. It was a name: Potter.

Harry frowned at the sight. Why was there a banner with his name on it in the middle of the room.

When Harry had first arrived, his first instinct was to leave, afraid of what might happen should the owners of the house discover his presence. Now, however, his curiosity was piqued, and all worries dissipated. Perhaps this was the home of some other family he had, but didn't know about. Perhaps they would save him from the hell he knew as 'home.'

The fact that the room obviously hadn't been in for several years was momentarily forgotten with the arrival of this new idea. With a burst of courage, Harry moved towards the door and opened it.

The other side of the door revealed another room. This room had a major difference from the one he had just parted. It was a wreck. There was a spot for a door leading to the outside that Harry supposed would be the front door. The physical door itself, however, had apparently been blown across the room where it lay shattered and splintered. It looked as if an explosion of sorts had driven the door from its spot. Shattered glass and other pieces of unidentifiable material littered the floor. Harry decided it was time to leave. Wherever he was, it was not someplace he was supposed to be. Moving towards the front opening, Harry looked out.

Harry discovered the front lawn of the house to be in total disarray from obvious neglect. The edge of the lawn turned into a dark forest. All ideas of departure were once again squashed. There was no way he would be able to find his way back to his school. If the silence he heard was any indication, it was obvious that he was some distance from anyone else living.

Harry turned back to the house. To the side of the room was a stairway leading up to a second floor. There was another door beside the stairwell, and Harry moved towards that. The door opened into a kitchen that shared the same state as the room Harry had just been in. There were dishes shattered and pots thrown about. One pot even looked to be melted, but Harry couldn't figure out how that had happened. He was starting to get quite worried. This strange house was not someplace he wanted to be.

Suddenly, Harry felt a strong need to go upstairs. He carefully made his way up the staircase, testing each step to make sure it would hold. All the steps were sturdy and he found himself a few minutes later at the top of the staircase. When he broke his attention away from his feet, his eyes widened in recognition.

He had been here before. Sounds and images flashed through his mind quickly, making it impossible to focus on a single one of them. Harry pushed open the door to his right.

This room was obviously a nursery of some sort, from what Harry could tell. It was in even worse shape that the front room. There was scorch marks on one wall, and spots of blood on the floor. The blood sent chills up his back and he turned to leave, determined once again to leave this place. But as he broke his attention, the images flashed through his mind once again. This time, however, one memory stuck.

There was a scream and a women was yelling. She held a stick in her hand that was pointed to a dark looking man. The women spoke a short sentence in a strange language before a green light hit her and she collapsed. The dark man crackled a hideous sound that must have been laughter for him and turned towards a baby in the cradle. A deep voice pronounced two words and another green light appeared. It struck the baby in the forehead, but the baby didn't collapse like the women did. The green light somehow reversed itself and struck the dark looking man in the chest. There was an explosion.

The memory ended as Harry felt a nearly unbearable burning sensation in his scare. He collapsed to the floor in pain as his body jerked uncontrollably. Suddenly, it was over, and Harry's body relaxed.

Harry moved his hand up to rub his forehead, brushing against the scar that had been there his entire life. He gasped as he made what would turn out to be the most important realization in his entire life.

The baby from the memory had been him.

A/N: Ok, I know I have two other stories out there that I'm working on, but this idea popped into my head two weeks ago, and it just wouldn't leave. This story is demanding to be written, so I'm going to write it. I hope you will enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed writing this first chapter. Please review!

Thanks,

Josh