[Redo] Champion of Ravenclaw: Inheritance.

1. Nude state of affairs.

Harry James Potter, of number 4 Privet Drive, was not one to be foolish enough to claim he knew everything. In fact there was a rather large number of things he did not know. And, by default even more that he didn't know, he didn't know. For example, while aware that some wizarding families mingled with magical creatures, their children sharing the rather often potent blood of such creatures, he was not informed that his family was one of them until just recently and not only that but no one seemed to know just what his family had mingled with. Further more he was not informed that inheriting such blood would change him not only physically and mentally, but it would affect lifestylistic aspects as well. He was not informed that most inheritances were painful and traumatic experiences. And while aware that inheritances usually presented at the ages of 16 to 18 he most certainly was not informed it could happen earlier than that. But, ignorant of all this, Harry had been more than happy to push the little information he did have aside and allow future Harry deal with it in 2-4 years. So naturally, as he lay writhing on the poor excuse of a mattress in pain and panic, he was understandably a little annoyed.

Perhaps the only ones who were more annoyed were his walrus and stick insect of an Uncle and Aunt. Admittedly, one could justify their annoyance just a little. Being woken up in the early hours of the morning was hardly something to be jolly about. However their methods of dealing were far from admirable. Upon first waking up, the adults were terrified their precious baby whale of a son was in danger. Realising it was more likely than their nephew was the one in danger alarm was quicky overtaken by annoyance spiced with a hint of rage. Vernon Dursley contributed to the screams of anguish that was possibly waking the neighbours by bashing a thick, meaty fist against the door and asking, none too politely, that Harry be quiet. Petunia Dursley, as helpful as she could be, paced behind her husband while complaining about what the neighbours must think of them. And all the while Dudley Dursley remained completely oblivious to the whole scenario, fast asleep and drowning out the noise down the hall with the gutteral sound of his own snores. Which sounded a lot like trying to start a lawn mower next to a megaphone. Neither adult dared open the door to see what was going on, for it sounded as if their nephew was being mauled. And heaven forbid they befall the same fate. No it was far more favorable to let the boy suffer while they remained safe behind a closed door.

After an hour of screams and cries of pain the sounds from within the room changed. Petunia likened it to the sound of a zoo. Growling and snarling, the sound of claws against drywall and cloth, the thud and splintering sound of breaking wood. And finally the shattering of glass before silence. The ordeal had stunned Vernon out of his rage and it took the beefy man another 20 minutes to muster the courage to open the door.

The inside of the room looked like a battlefield. The walls were marred with deep gashes where claws had slashed and stabbed. The floor had not been spared from the same treatment. What was left of the matress was scattered around the room, thouroughly torn apart, springs and foam alike mangled beyond repair. The old rickety wardrobe was toppled over and the old wooden doors and backing broken. Cold morning breeze drifted into the room ruffling tattered curtains slashed by the same claws that had destroyed the walls. And the window was shattered from the inside, as if some beast had leapt out. But upon inspection outside, the the only damage to the flowers below had been from the shattered glass.

Perhaps the strangest thing was the soft ashen grey feathers scattered around and the lack of blood. Or perhaps it was that the one thing they expected to find was nowhere to be seen. There was no body and no trace of life. Harry Potter was gone.
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The cold morning air nipped at Harry's consciousness as he tried to squeeze in a little more sleep. However it proved a little difficult as the cold was not letting up in the slightest and Harry wondered idly what had happened to his threadbare blanket. Not to mention the fact his bed felt a lot like dirt, rocks and tree roots. He peeled an eye open to the sight of bark, the green orb traveling up the trunk of the tree as far as it could before he had to life his head.