[1990 Pt.19]

[December 25, 1990.]

[Privet Drive, Little Whinging.]

Harry walked slowly and unenthusiastically towards the home of his uncle and aunt. It was Christmas and he had seen most of the houses on Privet Drive hanging colourful lights. The house he lived in also had its own lights, hung there by Harry's own hands as one of the many chores that he had to do for his aunt.

Harry stopped and wistfully imagined what it would be like to spend time with his parents. Just like how Dudley and the other children in the school were probably doing with their parents. He often liked to imagine what it would be like if his parents were alive. His uncle, Vernon, had once told him that they were good-for-nothing people who had wasted their lives in a drunken car accident.

Harry knew that it was a lie. Vernon Dursley simply did not have his trust. Harry knew that the man's streak of cruelty would definitely see him try to taint Harry's image of his parents.

His aversion to Vernon went beyond the mistreatment he endured; it was a deep-rooted disdain for the man's character. Bully, sycophant, selfish, cruel, vain—each term was a brushstroke in the portrait of Vernon Dursley. Harry had long ceased trusting anything that escaped the man's lips, understanding the unjust disparity in the treatment between himself and his cousin, Dudley.

Normally, Harry would not return to the Dursley Household unless it was time for him to cook for his abusive relatives. Harry had learnt the word and its meaning from the library where he often took refuge when Dudley's gang tried to give him trouble. Yet, on this Christmas day, even the solace of the public library was denied to him. With its doors closed for the holiday, Harry's only recourse was to trudge back to the dwelling he refused to acknowledge as his home.

Harry's wandering thoughts came to an abrupt end when he heard the rustling of wings as a small black crow landed in front of him. He could see the avian looking at him with beady eyes as if in recognition before it croaked and pushed a small box forward held within its left claw.

".…is it….is it for me?" Harry asked with surprise. He had often received gifts from the cats of Mrs. Figg but those gifts were more often than not dead mice. He had never been gifted something by a bird, let alone one he had never met before, and one that gave him a gift that was neatly wrapped up.

The crow cawed and Harry flinched a little surprised by the noise before he slowly, tentatively leaned forward and grabbed the small box that was wrapped in shiny blue gifting wrappers.

"Thanks," muttered Harry and the crow puffed its chest out before it cawed again as it looked at Harry expectedly, as if encouraging him to open the box.

Harry flushed a little at the expectant look and he slowly unwrapped the blue wrapper before he opened the box slowly and looked inside it. He frowned a little at the small note and a golden ring inside the box. Harry picked up the note, curious to find out where his new avian friend had stolen his gift from.

'Hope you like the ring I created Harry. I wish you a merry Christmas.'

Harry frowned at the note, his young mind furiously trying to piece the puzzle together. He turned to look at the crow for any clues but found that while he had been focusing on the note, the avian had already taken off.

Harry frowned before he slowly fished out the ring from the box. A 'gift' for Christmas. His first gift for Christmas that wasn't given to him by someone who hated him.

Harry stared at the ring, really focusing on it. The thing was all gold—or at least it looked like it. But Harry's aunt had yammered on about fake jewellery, so now he was second-guessing if it was the real deal. He couldn't wrap his head around someone splurging that much on a gift for him, so he was leaning toward it being a knockoff.

The ring had this big top part, all sleek and black, and on it, there was a golden stag. Looked pretty fancy, to be honest. The gold bands that wrapped around also had these tiny markings all over them, like some secret code Harry couldn't crack. It was a real head-scratcher.

Harry smiled before slowly slipping the finger on the index finger of his left hand. He felt a little giddy at how important the gold ring made him feel.

'Hello, Harry James Potter,' a smooth and deep voice reverberated in Harry's ears and Harry's blood froze. He mechanically turned around to see who had called his name and why had they added 'James'.

"Heavens, I am hearing things now too," said Harry as he frowned when he found the path behind him devoid of any other person.

'You aren't going barmy, Mr Potter.'

Harry whirled around again to find who was speaking. He found nobody again.

'Calm down', Harry's panic subsided and he felt himself grow calm. Harry's body calmed down and yet his mind was running faster than his Uncle's car. He could feel how his breathing had evened out and his jitters had stopped by the words of the stranger. It was bizarre, unnatural and was freaking Harry out.

Harry asked, "What is happening to me? Where are you? Why can't I see you? And Who are you?"

'I just used a calming enchantment on you.' Harry frowned at the words, unsure what an enchantment was. It was a difficult word he hadn't read in any of his books before. He obviously did not tell the man that (The voice sounded similar to his physical education teacher.)

'I am inside the ring you just slipped onto your finger,' Harry raised his hand to look at the ring in incredulity before the man continued, 'You can't see me because I don't have a body. My creator created me as only a sentience bound to the ring.'

Harry blinked owlishly as he looked at the ring, trying to wrap his young mind around the words. He slowly made sense of the words and gulped before he shivered, the cold winds of December, felt all the more cold as he digested the words.

"Y-you are inside the ring?"

'Yes, I am.'

"What do you want from me?"

'I am here to help you. I was created for that very purpose.'

"What?"

'I was gifted to you by my creator to help you. Didn't you read the note?'

Harry looked at the note clutched in his hand before he asked, "Who is your creator?"

'I don't know.'

"Huh?"

'My creator did not deign it necessary for me to know that for some reason. The only thing in regards to him is that we will find him when the time is right.'

"Great," Harry whispered in frustration. That frustration, however, receded when an exciting thought came to his mind. Harry looked at the ring and asked, "So what is your name? And what can you help me with?"

'Good question. My name is Orys Baratheon and I am an abstract symbiotic sentience that was created through the use of magic to assist and tutor you in your learning and life.'

"Magic? Magic is real?"

'Yes, it is. And you, Harry, are a wizard.'

"B-but I can't do m-magic!" Harry shouted before he suddenly realized that he was standing on the side of the road and talking to himself. The panic suddenly came back for some reason before it receded back again.

'Has anything weird happened around you when you were very angry or afraid that you couldn't explain? And you can think of the words with the intention of me hearing them and I will hear them.'

Memories flashed before Harry's eyes and a lot of the pieces in the puzzle of his life started falling into place.

Harry focused on sending his internal thoughts towards the ring and mentally said, 'Yes, I can remember some things that having magic would explain.'

'That's great and since we have that part of our chat cleared up, you should check out the box you found me.'

Harry followed the command and found a wooden stick inside the box that hadn't existed in it the last time Harry had seen it.

'That wasn't there the last time I checked inside,' Harry mumbled to Orys.

Harry felt amusement radiating from Orys' voice when he replied, 'Well, that's magic for you. You should close the lid on the box before we return to the Dursleys and then open it in your cupboard. I have a lot to tell and teach you about.'

Harry nodded as he followed the command with a smile and an "okay" before he started walking towards the Dursley household in a better mood than before.

As he walked with a skip in his step, he heard Orys say, 'Merry Christmas, Harry.'

---- ------ ---------- -------

[Same time, Grey Mansion.]

Nathan put down the interface display that was connected to the Stag's ring. His plan to help and guide the boy who lived had succeeded.

And now all Nathan had to do to keep an eye on Harry Potter was to check out the screen that allowed him to set small goals and send out indirect commands and guidelines to Orys, who could help Harry prepare for Tom Riddle's resurrection in a way that would take all players of the game other than Nathan himself by surprise.

"Nathan! Come out of your room dear! We have something to talk about!"

"Coming!!!!"

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[Author Notes]:

If you like the chapter then gimme some POWERSTONES!!!!

Now coming to the chapter itself, what do you think about Nathan's gift to Harry and how far-reaching the consequences of such a gift could be? Do you guys like the idea? 

Check out more chapters at Pa-atreon.(com)/dukeofvirtue.