Chapter Text
In a small, dusty cupboard lives a savvy, dainty kid. He lives in his cupboard under the stairs at Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, with a few friends—a ghost man, the shadows and a snake—and some spiders. The kid is a faerie-like creature: his angelic angled face paired with a careful countenance; his gleaming emerald eyes that glow with thinly veiled power when he gets overly emotional; his flawless warm ivory skin matched with his long jet black wavy hair, pushed back to display a prominent lightening bolt scar, a mark of a great destiny that rests perfectly on his forehead.
The kid grew up as a nobody with nothing to his name, that he worked hard to build his own legacy. His relatives, the Dursleys, address him as Boy, Freak, You, Him, and very rarely Harry—after Harry had to learn his given name because of school—but never "Harry Potter" or "Potter" because of the name's origin, even though Potter is a common surname. He is often told—his aunt, Petunia Dursley, complained on and on about her freakish sister and her equally freakish husband who got them killed, whenever she thinks nobody could hear her—that the Potters were jobless drunkards who got themselves killed in a car accident, leaving him as burden to their normal family. In short, they hate him (it hurt him once), and in return, he hates him.
Harry wanted to remove all ties from his given name and other labels, so he chose a name for himself—a name by which he'll be known one day for his greatness, a name by which he won't be known because of who his parents were or what people thought of him, but because of the greater things he'll accomplish and the power he'll possess in spades. Merlin (later changed to Ambrose to avoid general confusion and awkwardness) is his chosen name, like the enchanter from the Arthurian Legends. He decides to use the name when he truly rises to glory, and he'll make the world remember him.
Harry is blessed with a zealous and resilient mind backed up by a perfect recall. The Dursleys don't like that Harry outclasses his peers or that he surpasses their son, Dudley Dursley. They believe his freakish heritage has something to do with his excellence. Sometimes they threaten him with excess chores to make him fall behind in class, but he has a few tricks up his sleeve. Their petty threats don't sit well with him, and he strives to do the best—he knows he is brilliant and strange for his age and relishes the fact—just to spite them.
Harry doesn't own many things that truly belong to him. His clothes are his cousin's old clothes (he has nicked a few needles and a couple of thread spools to improvise or stitch his clothes). His few (stolen) toys are his cousin's broken and abandoned ones. His meals are leftovers from the Dursleys', even though he cooks most of them as he grows up. The books and bag for his schooling are pre-owned. His shoes are the worn-out shoes of his cousin. He never gets any gifts (the coat hanger and old socks don't count as gifts). The shadows take care of his needs, and the Dursleys are blind to them.
A very few people like Harry. The language teachers usually like him because he takes to languages like a fish to water and believes he can learn a few languages. A few other teachers like him because of the potential he showed in the classes. Most teachers don't like him because of his inquisitive nature. The local librarian likes him the best; he is a kind middle-aged man who is eager to help the town's few bookworms.
The neighbours believe the utter nonsense—that he is an odd boy with criminal behaviour—spouted by his beloved (read bitter) relatives. The local kids warded him off because of their parents and his cousin, who warned them of the odd boy. Any kid who tries to befriend, support, or help him will become a pariah, so they stopped trying. It is a good thing he doesn't care about the locals' bigoted sentiments or crave their tedious company.
Now what truly sets Harry apart is his magic. His magic was a fierce and vicious thing during his early childhood; it filled people with unease and alarm. As he grew, his magic came to his aid when he wanted it and helped him through some irksome situations. His magic, like him, became more refined and cultivated over time. The shadows often acted with magic as he aged. The power grew into a cold, hostile force that punished his persecutors and oppressors and protected him from minor to severe harm. His magic was so gentle with him; it cared for him; it healed his injuries; it gave him energy when he was fatigued; it took him to places when he needed to escape; it soothed him when he was lonely.
When someone bodily harms Harry, they get really sick or are faced with an unfortunate accident that renders them immobile. When someone verbally hurts Harry, they get such terrible nightmares that they rarely sleep well and become highly depressed. He can influence people's emotions and make them calm, happy, angry, sad, fearful, and numb for a few hours. He could talk to snakes, levitate objects, open and close locks without touching them, teleport, and read people's thoughts (if he looked at someone's eyes for long, he could see some of their memories).
The "m-word" is taboo in the Dursley household, a rule imposed by his uncle, Vernon Dursley. Talk of anything suggesting magic is forbidden, including fairytales, bizzare or unusual dreams, tales of overtly imaginative mind, tv programs based on unreal and unusual happening. The Dursleys are bred to hate anything magical and extraordinary. Therefore, they forbade him from questioning anything, which was a blow to his inquisitive nature (not that it stopped him outside the confines of their ridiculously normal house). But they have learned to ignore him with time.
When Harry was seven, he met his friend Amara when he was tending the garden. He heard a delicate voice looking for her liege near the hydrangea shrubs.
He called out to the voice, { Hello, iss ssomeone there? }.
{ Sspeaker, I am looking for my Liege. He iss near. } came the hissed answer as a beautiful black snake slithered from under the bush. { You are a ssnake and you sspeak. } Harry pointed out the obvious dumbly.
{ Ssilly sspeaker, you are the one sspeaking to me. Most humanss and magical beingss can not sspeak with any ssnakess.} said the snake dryly. { Sso, am I a human being or a magical being? } asked Harry in a daze. { You sspeak, you are a magical being. } the snake informed Harry curtly.
{ I knew it. I could help you look for your liege if you want. Can I touch you ? } asked Harry with hesitant curiosity and rushed to explain in barely concealed awe { I have never sseen a real ssnake and there aren't any ssnakess around thesse partss }. The snake tasted the air and nodded { I will let you touch me only if you would let me sscent you and your magic before. Of coursse, you will help with the ssearch.} she said in such a serious tone, it was almost comical.
{ Alright} agreed Harry, and extended and lowered his left hand.The snake slowly slithered closely and reached his hand, her tongue tasted the air around his hand and hissed out a whispered { Your magic ... } and then tasted his hand and hissed loudly { MY LIEGE! } and reared back her head to look at him with a madly excited glint in its aqua eyes.
Harry withdrew his hand sputtering and implored the berserk snake { Wha.. what are on about? I am not your Liege. I did not even know you before today.}
The snake calmed down a bit, contemplated and answer { Your magic iss my Liege'ss magic, your body iss not. You must be my new Liege. } in a solemn tone, if that's even possible for a snake. { Who wass your Liege before me? } inquired Harry reluctantly. The snake proudly hissed { Merlin the Great wass my Liege. }. Harry's eyes sparkled with mirth when he hissed { The Merlin from the Legendss. You know, my chossen name iss Merlin. }. The snake hissed which suspiciously sounded like laughter.
He gained a faraway look before he asked uncertainly { But how? }. He looked at her anxiously.
The snake examined him with her beady aqua eyes and eventually graced him with an answer { You have my Liege'ss magic, you must be hiss reincarnation. What iss your given name, my Liege.}.
He offered faintly { Harry Potter. } before he asked her { What iss your given name? }.
{ Guinevere. } was the quick reply.
{ Do want to choosse a name for yoursself? } he proposed softly.
A moment passed before she countered with a hissed { Amara. }.
Harry met his friend Emrys the same day he met Amara. He was inside his cupboard with his latest friend, who wrapped herself around his torso. He was thinking about his namesake when a phantom appeared before him. He was a young man in his late twenties and looked perfectly healthy, except for the whole phantom part. It was clear he was a dead man. He stared at the spectre for a few minutes and faintly asked the man, "Hello, Sir." The man stared at him and huffed before settling inside Harry's cupboard like he owned it. Harry asked Amara if she could see or smell another human near him; he had a feeling that she could not, otherwise she would have raised a ruckus. She hissed, { No, my Liege. } No one in his neighbourhood could see the man from his observations.
He became acquainted with Emrys after a magical incident. The man had been living like his shadow without ever speaking, though he always showed his displeasure clearly through his face. So, Harry came to the conclusion that the ghost couldn't speak. And it occurred to him that maybe the man never wanted to speak with him; after all, it was quite normal for people to avoid Harry. It was months after the phantom man's appearance before the man spoke for the first time. Harry was being chased by some bullies, and he wanted to teleport him somewhere else like before. He tried replicating the sensation he felt when he first teleported. But something was missing—something that filled him with an indescribable warmth. That's when he heard a commanding voice say, "Search for the warmth inside you." He did not know why, but he listened. He reached out to grab something from the warm well of frost fire inside him and felt a tug. He opened his eyes to find himself sprawled on the lawn of Number Four, Privet Drive. He quickly stood up before somebody saw him and trod stealthily to the vacant house in Wisteria Walk, Number 7, and settled himself on the stairs. He called to the voice, "Umm... Thank you for the advice; it really helped. Please reply if you can. It's so lonely," he added the last bit in a small voice.
When Harry thought he wouldn't get a response, a toneless voice emerged behind him, "You were struggling to connect with your magic." He whipped around in the direction of the voice only to face his ghost man and froze but the man continued as if he hadn't noticed—he had noticed if by the amused glint in his viridian eyes—him gawking and gaping, "It was painful to watch, so think nothing of it, child." finished in the same dead tone. Harry was still processing the fact that his ghost man can actually talk and tried to think of a proper reply, but what really came out were some unintelligible sounds, and the man stated nonchalantly, "And if you really wish for my company, stop being a bumbling fool." His expression instantly sobered and became cold, then he replied tersely, "Of course, Mister." But he couldn't help it and continued scornfully, "Wouldn't dream of wasting your precious time. Why would even a ghost like you have time for a poor orphan boy like me when you could be doing better things like watching these mundane masses move like clockwork?"
The man's eyes lost their glint, and it stared him in the eyes, but it felt as if his entire being was being appraised—maybe the saying that the eyes are the window to your soul holds some truth, and who knows what the man saw in his eyes—and after what felt like an eternity, the man let out a satisfied hum and started chuckling out of the blue, which gradually developed into full-blown laughter. Harry felt he'd been left out of the joke. And so he glowered (he did not pout) at the guffawing man.
Then the man strangled out a final laugh before turning his attention to Harry: "Don't mind my outburst, little one. You really are articulate for an eight-year-old. I believed all those hours holed up in the library were for naught. You'll have to excuse my terrible manners; I'm Merlin. I believe Guinevere spoke about me. Imagine my surprise when I found out you were a parselmouth, your snake-speaking ability. I am quite pleased that you are a parselmouth. It is an uncommon, rare nowadays, magical ability that is found in certain families."
Harry was flabbergasted; who wouldn't be when your resident ghost man turns out to be "Merlin" from the legends and also your latest friend/familiar's former Liege. Then came the cynical side of him that was rather dubious about the whole thing and wondered if he was drugged and tricked or it if was just drugs and his wild imagination. Was he really Harry Potter or John Doe? He added the question to his list.
Harry gave a clear response (wouldn't be a bumbling fool), "I do mind cackling men, famous or not. I don't waste my time pretending that I can comprehend what I read. As you already know who I am, I won't be introducing myself. Yes, she spoke of you, and she goes by the name Amara nowadays. Why are you pleased that I am a parselmouth? Are you one too?"
Merlin grinned and said, "I can't promise you I won't be cackling anytime soon. You are blessed, little one. Yes, I am a parselmouth, one of the reasons I was in Slytherin. If you want, little one, I could teach you everything I know about magic." looked at him curiously.
Harry blurted out the first thought came to his mind: "Are we distantly related? I mean, are you my ancestor? Is that why your familiar became my familiar? Did you visit one of my parents? Did you teach them, too? I want to learn everything I can about magic." and be a great wizard like you he added privately.
Merlin replied eagerly, "Yes, we are distantly related. No, I am not your ancestor, for I didn't procreate. I don't visit people; you are a special case. It has to do with our magic and an ancient prophecy called 'The Beginning of the End'. You are the first student I've taken after I left the mortal realm. I didn't know one could teach after death; this hasn't been done before."
Harry always knew he was special generally, but this proved he could be remarkable magically too. He'll master his magic and do great things. He genuinely smiled for the first time in a while. He turned his attention to Merlin, and they chatted animatedly for hours.
The shadows were always there for Harry. He named the shadows Chaos. His constant companion during the countless days of the darkness of his cupboard. Chaos plays with him. Chaos hides his treasures and loots for him in his darkness. He hugs him and holds him till he sleeps. He warms him during winters. He cloaks him with his darkness from people who mean him harm. He lends energy when he feels drained. He likes Harry to be healthy, so he steals food for him regularly (because the pitiful amount of food he gets from his 'caretakers' won't do him any good). He often explores new places together. He is the only one to remember he is a child and takes care of him like a parent. Chaos is his family.
What Chaos could really do are secrets that are not his to share. But one day Chaos will reveal himself to the world, and he could tell some of their secrets.