The great study was nearly empty, save the young boy reading an ancient book. The Tales of Beedle the Bard was laid out on his lap and he was reading the ancient tales at an incredibly fast pace for a child of eleven, especially since they were in runes. But then again, he was the grandchild of Remus Lupin. The noble was dressed in fine robes of black that deeply contrasted with his bright gold hair. The halo of windswept blond hair made the child seem surreally handsome, his veela heritage clearly apparent. His piercing blue eyes had a cold look of calculating hardness as they darted back and forth across the archaic pages, as if reading the story could bring his parents back from the dead. The story was of the three peverell brothers triumphing over death and being rewarded with items of strange power.
His eyes slowly grew unfocused as he became more engrossed in the story, the words on the frail pages of the book began to form images in his head. They played like a muggle cinema or wizard picture, constantly adapting to the instructions in the book. This boy has the ability to read anything and understand it perfectly, then to recall it months later at will. Stories were already spreading about the next magical genius, the next Dumbledore. Rumors were circulating that the most ancient and noble house of Potter had a new scion emerging. Possibly destined for even greater glory than his famous head of house Lord Harry Potter, who defeated the most terrible dark lord to walk the Earth, Lord Voldemort, over fifty years ago.
The child finished reading the book and closed it, returning it to one of the vast bookshelves next to the grand fireplace. The comfy armchair beckoned him back to its sweet embrace, but he resisted the urge to fall asleep in his study. He left the dimly lit room and entered the main hallway to the Eastern Wing of the house, his side of the mansion. His adopted parents rarely came to the Eastern Wing and he only saw them during meals when they came home from their important jobs at the Ministry. He sighed and looked at his bodyguard Gerard.
His loyal servant was a mountain of a man, nearly seven feet tall and three hundred pounds of lean, ripped muscle. He trusted Gerard with his life, especially since he swore an Unbreakable Vow to allow him no external harm while employed by the Potters. Having a bodyguard was a necessity; radical dark wizards attacked the Potter family trying to test their might against the Vanguards of Voldemort and blood purists attacked him specifically on a regular basis because of his heredity. The Potter children are taught at a very young age how to defend themselves from any opponent, and they’d learned in the past that muggles have creative ways to go about doing that.
His birthday is tomorrow, and he’ll turn eleven. His party would be large but he never even asked for one. After over five years of living with the Potters, he knew better than to decline an offer from them. Most of his friends and family would come; the Longbottoms, Weasleys, and so on. He was expecting his letter from Hogwarts any day now... tomorrow he wouldn’t have to endure classes in mathematics and sciences, coaching in gymnastics and parkour, training in swordsmanship and marksmanship, practicing meditation and yoga, lectures in psychology and politics, intense physical training and nutritional meals, and lessons in art and music that have filled his daily life since the day he became a Potter.
He shuffled quietly into his bedroom and fell onto his four poster bed. Coiling the sheets around him, he nodded off to sleep as his bodyguard watched dutifully over him. “Goodnight, Harry Lupin.” The child mumbled incoherently into his bed as he rolled over in his sleep. Gerard cringed sympathetically. The boy’s night was going to be filled with nightmares, just like every other night before and every night to come in the conceivable future.