Shampoo147:

I'll paint you mornings of gold
I'll spin you Valentine evenings
Though we're strangers 'til now
We're choosing the path
Between the stars
I'll leave my love
Between the stars

Ayame: For the love of all things shiny!

Mittens: We hope all of you like this chapter.

Shampoo147: We know that the second chapter used to be Harry's heart breaking, but in this one, we'll introduce you to Harry.

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Acceptance
Harry Potter was a very . . . different young child. When you looked at him, you saw willowy beauty, and shy obedience. But, if you looked closer you'd see intelligence, pain, and grim acceptance. He was a quiet child, even when he was a baby, and he never turned away from a chance to learn. He had accepted the grim reality that his Mother and Father no longer even remembered his name.

He had accepted that his brother had no one to hold him when he cried. Harry had seen that, Dylan crying in his room, away from prying eyes, from those who expected him to be made of steel, to bear their pain and never break. Every time Harry saw him cry, he would feel the blossoming rose of righteous anger. What right did any of them have to do this to his brother? What was his Mother thinking of when she began to train him? What right did those People have to make a child hold their problems?

This fury would stay for a while, before fading away into milky anger.

He had accepted that his brother was being controlled, being in the shadows in all's eyes had many advantages. He had seen the old man with the schemer's eyes, he had seen the way his parents would hand their child over to have more of his innocence wiped away when he should be playing, when he should be a child! The old man, Harry disliked him and mistrusted him even more, but there was nothing to do.

So, when he had had enough, he had made a vow that his brother's innocence will be avenged. The Old Man will regret ever manipulating his family. Harry would make sure of that.

(Oh, how sweet, you are giving up your own childhood just to get back at an old man whom your parents worship)

Shut up, shut up! Was always his reply to that little voice. That little voice was always there, as long as he could remember, there was a voice in hid mind, taunting him, making him question himself, simpering, making him question his own sanity . . .

He hated it, he hated it so much . . .

Harry's room was small, average by normal families, but small compared to the Potter estate. His room was rather nice, it was clean and organized. There were shelves that held little ornaments. The lower ones, the ones on the lower shelves, they held ornaments that were obviously crafted by clumsy hands, but the higher you went in the shelves, the more exquisite the crafts became. The highest shelves held lovely clay makings of castles and dragons, lovingly done, they could sell in a muggle society, for some good money, but the magical society (he thought that Wizarding World was a little unfair. They weren't a different world, different society, yes, but not world. And besides, he didn't think that calling everything Wizarding was unfair to his Mother.) expected the art works to fly or do something, not just stand there looking pretty.
The floor was hardwood, nice to step on in summer, but torture on your feet when it was winter. There was a nice little rug that had the work of a lovely Siberian tiger cub surrounded by intricate white roses. The bed was small, ebony and with crisp blue sheets. There was an ebony wardrobe, simple and non-too fancy.

The walls had blue painted on it with splatters and swirls of silver, looking utterly unique as Harry had done it himself when he was a bit younger. The only window was large, and gave a lovely view of the forest and cherry tree orchard.

Other than those the room was quite bare, not something you ever expect from a small child who lived in a rich household, but Harry liked it.

Harry himself was something that kept you guessing. He didn't show the attitude of a child that knew he was being neglected. He wasn't resentful, bitter, or cynical. He wasn't teary, sad, or envious. He was quiet, but that could be shrugged off as shyness. His eyes showed intelligence, but always had an air of puzzlement around him. He always looked quizzical, but maybe that was the small, silver scar that turned his eyebrow down. (He had gotten it when he had fallen down the stairs, when he was still a toddler.)

He, also, didn't show the signs you usually looked for in rich children. He wasn't stuffy, snobby, or groomed for success. He never showed innocence or even darkness in his attitude. Never once had he even questioned his parents' forgetting him, he had merely accepted it as a part of life.

Harry liked the smell of books, especially old books. He also liked the smell of rain-wet dirt. He wasn't very fond of the smell of grass, but he adored the smell of apple blossoms.
He liked to spend time in the library, mostly because of the constant smell of books and promise. He also liked to stand outside in rain, the smell was, once again, the reason. He never thought of deep reasons to his actions. Many grown-ups would say that he liked the rain because it was gloomy and it was a personal reflection of his years of neglect, but he just enjoyed the shade and smell. He would go out in sunny days, too, but the sun hurt his eyes and stung his sensitive skin.

Some people would say that his love for learning and reading was a subconscious cry to be better than his famed brother, but he really detested reading dry textbooks, they were too dull. He enjoyed reading muggle fantasy, fiction gave him much to think about and it was from these books that he gathered his views and thoughts. It was also from these books that he learned his vocabulary and science gatherings. He especially enjoyed Stephen King books. His favorite book was a tie between Firestarter and It. It was these books by his favored author that influenced him to study science.

He couldn't explain it, but when it came to magical studies, he just . . . knew the material. Transfiguration, Arithmancy, ancient runes. Everything just came to him, like a he had already learned the material, and it was all just within arms reach to know it all. But, science, and muggle studies were things that he knew he had to study. Not the beginning things, for some reason, just the more advanced things, like the multiplication rules of exponents, and the base pairing in DNA. Things like that.

It was weird, but Harry didn't know this. It was just another thing he had accepted in life.

Shampoo147:
As the pains sweeps through
Makes no sense for you
Every thrill is gone
Wasn't too much fun at all
But I'll be there for you-ou-ou
As the world falls down

Falling
As the world falls down
Falling
Falling
Falling
Falling in love

Ayame: I am so glad that that's the ending of that song.

Shampoo147: I thought you liked that song.

Ayame: It's beautiful when David Bowie sings it, but not you.

Shampoo147: Who has time for self-esteem with a friend like you.

Mittens: Please review.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!