harry potter, rise from dust

chapter 1

31 July 1982.
A solitary figure concealed his presence from the others. Everyone was smiling, laughing, and talking. He watched as his father presented his little brother to everyone with a huge grin. His mother stood by his father's side, emitting in happiness. Everyone clapped their hands, cheering at the sight of the Boy-Who-Lived. At least, that was what they were so fond of calling him...

Silent tears glistened on the older brother's cheeks, whose birthday was on the exact same day. How ironic that he had once thought this was a good thing. Wouldn't it be fun for siblings to celebrate their mutual birthday together? But as of this day, he began to see it as an unfortunate twist of fate. It seemed not a single person at the party recalled his birthday was the same as their precious savior's. Not even their parents. The eldest brother often wished that his parents were different than any of them.

He had been looking forward to his fifth birthday, and had been very excited when he woke up that morning. But all that silly hope had collapsed to the ground. How naive he had been. All he wanted was for his parents to remember him, especially his mother. He craved her warmth, like every child does, wanting desperately for his mother to hug him and smile at him. Only him. His thoughts came crashing back to reality as the party-goers sang his brother the birthday song.

Slowly, he withdrew from the stair's railing and moved to the end of the room. Entering, he shut the door silently. The voices outside still echoed in his eardrums. He climbed to his bed, unafraid of the darkness because of the moonlight shining through his window. It appeared to him, the stars were shining just a little brighter tonight. He wished himself a happy birthday in a hush tone. And then, he pulled the covers over his head and dozed to sleep.

----*******------

19 June 1991.

Harry woke up, at a snail's pace. Shoving his bangs out of his eyes, he stretched his hands and yawned. He comfortably buried his face into the pillow he conjured. He was alone in the empty compartment, having a wonderful nap. The train was returning to King's Cross station for the beginning of the summer. His eyes fixed on the window, gazing with indifference at the passing trees, stones, and grass. His thoughts floated off to space.

Harry could hardly believe he still remembered his fifth birthday.

Ever since that fateful day, he had resolved to show his parents how sadly mistaken they had been neglecting their eldest son. Cynically, he supposed he had to thank them for that. If it hadn't been for them, his five-year-old mind could not have developed such mature thoughts. Of course, he had several others to thank in that regard, such as his so-called godfather, who couldn't be bothered to perform his duty because he was too busy doting on Harry's younger brother instead. The same went for his werewolf of an uncle, they were all the same.

Bunch of pathetic fools they were. If he could, he would have deserted that place he called 'home' long ago and drifted to some serene place by himself, Of course, he was merely thirteen, going on fourteen, and this was only the end of his third year. The doors to his compartment snapped unlocked, sliding open to break his thoughts. Harry glanced at the door. His apparently half-closed eyes locked onto those of a four girls in his year, all in the process of becoming woman, good-looking woman.