Prologue

I remember clearly the first time I read a book.

The rain was dripping down the windows of the car, the sound of the music on the stereo in the background.

I was not very enthusiastic about that idea at first.

Maybe it was the cover that made me read the first pages?

Or maybe the title?

I was only six, and I was an inquisitive person. All the children around me said that books were annoying, so I thought that too.

But the curiosity got the better of me and...

They were wrong.

That was one of my first and most essential lessons in life.

Because everyone says, it doesn't mean that it's true.

My grandma just bought me a book for a store near the school. At first, I thought about fake reading it, so I didn't have to disappoint her. I didn't want her to believe that she bought me something I considered boring. But, as time passed away in the comfortable atmosphere of the car, the only thing that I had for distracting myself from the hour-long journey was the book on my left so… I gave it a try.

Then pages of the book slowed down to a few numbers by the time I reached my house.

The first book I read.

The legend of Arthur.

The knights of the round table.

The legend of a boy, son of Uther Pendragon, who lifted the sword of victory from a rock and became a ruler whose feats still appear in books.

There were a lot of terms in the book I didn't understand but something that makes me a person born that day.

After that, I decided to buy another one.

Another one.

Another one.

More.

Myths, historical, fantasy, adventure, action and, when I became a teen, even some of romance.

If I had to describe myself with one word, then I would say a bookworm.

I love knowledge. Learning things, even if they are fiction or not real.

I lived a good life. I had a family, a brother, a mother and a father. I had a roof, food, and a bed. I had a dream of being the one who could discover how to prolong the lifespan of people. I wanted to be the first to invent the travel machine.

But, to those who dream so much, for those who aspire to a high goal, there are two ending for them.

The first would be achieving said goal.

The second is to fail.

Those who fail are the ones who have a nasty fall.

Cancer.

What a joke.

I had to see how my mother weeps her eyes in my hospital bed. I had to see how my father tried to spend the little money we had for my treatment, only to extend my life for a few months.

I had to see how my brother stopped visiting and distanced himself from me.

My brother.

I was a nuisance for everyone even if they said the opposite.

I was a hindrance.

I was holding them back from living their lives.

So I chose to give up those childish dreams. And for once in my life thinking in what's best for everyone not only for myself.

Who knows, maybe being dead is like dreaming?

Or is it true that there is a god out there with a place like heaven?

Will I be able to dream of a better life?

Or maybe I am destined to hell?

Maybe it wasn't such a good idea, after all?

No.

They will cry.

I won't cry

They will mourn.

I won't mourn.

And then they will move on.

Or so I hope.

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The sound of heavy steps resonated in my ears.

My whole body was sour, and my head was like someone just put me in a washing machine and then knocked me out.

'Where am I?'

The room was dark, tiny and with a lot of smell of dust. From the left one could see rays of light passing through the aperture of the little door.

'I was…'

'Oh…'

Memories. A lot of memories. But the interesting thing about these memories is that it belongs to two different people.

One, from a hopeful teen with a lot of dreams and an unfortunate end.

Other from the child that lives in this cupboard, a sick love-starved child with a tremendous need for any paternal figure to come a take him away.

A child that sometimes strange things occur near him when he was in a high emotional state.

A child that is also known as the 'boy-who-lived' in a wizard old-like civilisation.

Harry Potter.

'Fuck.'