John Marino and The Misinterpretation of Circumstance

Chapter One: Orphaned

It was 5:45 in the morning when the sun rose, revealing one dirty, 10 year old child hiding in the dirt besides the dumpster. The day before his birthday was always the worst, it reminded him that it was one more year spent on the street, without a family. The worst part for him was that he couldn't remember his family well, all he could remember was a great fire, maniacal laughter... it was painful to think about. It was all he could think about. 

He had always been a strange child, he tended to scare adults and children with the dark, hateful look in the eye that one only gains after he feels abandoned, alone. Yet that wasn't the only thing that scared people, there was something else that couldn't quite be explained. Something was surrounding the child, something powerful, something that spooked everyone who neared him. Little did they know that this child was a wizard who, if he wanted, could destroy whoever treated him ill. But he was kind, even if he was alone. His name was John Marino. 

For as long as he could remember, he was able to do what can be described only as miraculous acts. He could move large objects, influence the actions of others, inflict pain, remove it, heal, build, destroy... and that's just the beginning. The child had powerful magic, and he had nothing to channel it with, he was a wizard without his most important tool: A wand. He thought he was strange, alone, though he didn't know there was a whole world waiting for him, if he could only wait another 5 hours. A world hidden from the view of ordinary people, that only youngsters like himself would be able to access. A world of magic, so close, yet so far away.

John went scavenging for food in the dumpsters near a pizza joint off Trafalgar Square. It was located close to a souvenir shop, London was filled with them. They popped up on every corner, like pimples on the face of most pubescent teenagers. They rarely through anything away, but that day he found a small black pen with golden letters spelling HOGWARTS: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He naturally assumed that it came from some sort of television or movie series that took place in the U.K., but he felt strangely drawn to it and decided to keep it. When he placed it in his pocket, he heard a strange cooing noise, sort of like a bird call, but not one he'd ever heard before. He looked upwards and saw an owl, perched on the edge of a roof, just watching him. Waiting. 

It hooted, at least that is the best word that could describe the infernal screeching that came out of its mouth. The owl rose into the air and then dove, striking something hard right behind John's head, killing it. He turned around and saw the owl on the floor, stabbing a jet back bird to death with its razor sharp beak. The bird looked sort of like a phoenix, it piqued his interest, but when he looked closer it reminded him of fire, and death. He backed away slowly, turned, and ran.

He ran until he was physically unable to run any longer, and he collapsed in a broken heap on the ground. It had gotten dark, he noticed as he looked around. Strangely dark. There was nobody out on the streets, nobody could see him, he hoped. Bells began to chime in the distance, signaling it was midnight. A letter fell into his lap, made of parchment paper and strange green writing. He was momentarily spooked, yet interested. He heard the same screech as earlier, and took it as a good sign, choosing to believe the earlier events as an attempt for an owl to save his life. Only he wasn't important.