Chapter Text
Harry was a common sight at the Little Whinging public library, despite his young age (eight, he likes to think he’s smart for his age, at least smarter than Dudley although that's not much of a challenge) he seemed to have a love for reading, sure this meant he didn't run around a play much with the other kids but he didn't really like them much and didn't have any friends anyway thanks to Dudley, and thus most of his free time was spent in the library and had been spent in the library since he first learnt the way to walk there himself the year prior. The librarian, an older lady with grey-streaked black hair pulled into a tight bun and wearing a rather strict expression, tolerated his presence since he was one of the only kids his age and always made sure to leave the books unharmed, she even gave him a library card to check books out by himself.
It is on a normal Saturday when he finds a new book, after Harry finishes his large list of chores he heads to the library around 1:30 PM before beelining for the non-fiction section, he’s recently been obsessed with reading encyclopedias, not about any specific topic he just like having a large amount of different information, the Dursleys don't much care for non-specific knowledge (Dudley doesn't care for much outside of food)) and that's reason enough for him to care about it. He spends a couple of hours reading as much as he can from one of the encyclopedias (it was on the human body, and a lot of the information was quite interesting although the illustrations will probably stay with him for a while). After he grew bored (and too creeped out) to continue with that book he quickly searched the shelves for a new book before one caught his eye. The book stood out from its surroundings based on its colour at first, most of the other encyclopedias had white or cream-coloured covers whereas this one had a green-leather cover with gold embossing instead, it wasn't the largest of books (only about 20cm vertical and 15cm horizontal) but it seemed almost daunting as if the information contained within had physical weight. Harry reached up to grab it but when his fingers grazed its spine he suddenly felt as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn't as if he was being watched with a displeased expression but when he looked around there was no one around. He continued to pull the green book from its place on the dusty shelf to reveal its face, on the front of the book is the title laid out in a clean and clear style of writing embossed with the same gold as the rest of the book reading ‘The Encyclopedia Of Anything And Everything’ and just below the title a large design of an open eye staring out from the book, Harry wouldn't go as far as to say that the eye looked real but the iris of the eye seemed to hold a strange depth, like the look people give when they know something you don't.
Harry opened the book, and inside…
Was a page on Moths, the Smerinthus Ocellata or the Eyed Hawk-moth to be specific, the page followed much the same set out as most other encyclopedias being that it seemed to try to fit as much information on the species as possible(average wingspan is between 70-80mm, incapable of feeding once it reaches maturity, part of the Sphingidae family of moths) into the book’s limited pages. The next page was on a different subject (atomic structures) and the next was on yet another subject (the archaeology behind the exploration and exhumation of Tutankhamun) and so on. Each page held a different subject explaining it through a series of sentences and images (both drawn and photographed) yet it always seemed to cover the subject in its entirety with Harry at times spending quite a while just reading one page, so much time in fact that he lost track of time and only noticed when the librarian called out saying it was time for the library to close and that if anyone wanted to check out any of the books to come do it quickly causing harry to quickly grab the book and head to the front desk. At the front desk the librarian sat looking tired, more tired than normal, and somewhat irritable due to this fact. Harry shyly and silently slid the green book onto the desk and the librarian began to search for the normal tags that the library uses to track its collection but she could not find anything.
“Did you remove the tag?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.
“No ma’am” he squeaked
“Hmm” She looked down at the book again checking for any signs of torn paper or dried glue from the tag and finding nothing before checking the computer systems for any mention of the book, after a couple of minutes of searching she continued to find nothing and releasing a long sigh she looked towards the clock then back down at him “Just take it” she said clearly too tired to care about the book right now. Harry looked at her shocked as she slid the book back towards him and stood up to leave before he could reply forcing him to scurry behind her and out of the library before she left for the day.
“She’s cheerful as ever” he chuckled to himself, mostly trying to take his mind off the fact the sky had already darkened and he was as such late in returning to the Dursleys so it was unlikely he’d be eating this night. At least he found a good book.
-TEOAAE-
Harry was right.
He didn't get to eat that night and was promptly shoved into his cupboard, he just considers himself lucky that Uncle Vernon didn't seem to register the book Harry was holding otherwise he probably wouldn't still be holding it. Speaking of the book, Harry can't seem to stop reading it, it just has so much in it, harry doesn't think there’s a subject that the book didn't contain.
Then he turned the page and saw the next page title:
A Brief History of Harry James Potter (The Boy Who Lived).
He doesn't know why his name is in the book.
He doesn’t know what the book could possibly Know about him.
He feels Seen.
He slams the book closed.
-TEOAAE-
It takes Harry a few more days before he can work up the courage to open the book again, the whole time feeling as if someone watching him even as he sits in his cupboard with the book under a blanket so he doesn't have to see its eye.
When he opens the book intent on finding the page again he doesn't expect the page to have moved to the front of the book, once again he sees the page about his life and begins to read.
He doesn't even get a tenth of the way through the page before he throws it across his cupboard, it Knows too much. It explained what really happened to his parents, that his aunt lied about their deaths, that magic is real and his parents died protecting him, that they wouldn't have been in danger if not for him and a prophecy connecting him to their killer. He shouldn't have believed it, it sounded like some fantasy series, but he Knows this book to be true in what it says.
His aunt only told him one truth, and that was by accident.
It was his fault, his fault his parents were dead.
Not from his drunken father reaching over to silence him as he screamed in the back of a car. But from being born and bringing a madman to their doorstep.
It was his fault, he didn't believe it before, but now he knows it.
He wishes he didn't know it now.
How much more did the book know about him, it already knew more than he did of his parents, does he have a single secret that is not recorded in this book? What if someone else reads it, they’d know all about him, they’d know everything he wants kept a secret.
He felt exposed.
He quickly pulled up a loose floorboard just beneath his bed, he usually used it to store the small number of personal items he had (mostly stolen broken items from Dudley, he has so many things he rarely notices when one goes missing) and hid the book in there.
No one can know.
That night as he tried to sleep he kept shifting at the feeling of eyes burrowing into the back of his head.