Chapter 2

The pain in his head flared right up. There was so much pain. He felt as if he was also being squeezed into a tiny ball. He could barely breathe. He was losing focus. The pain was too much.

He screamed a scream of extreme agony at the ceiling. There was a flash of white light and he felt as if he had exploded from the inside out.

Blackness. The peace of unconsciousness.

June 1987 - Four Years Earlier:

Young Harry Potter grew up always knowing he had a weird sort of memory. He could remember the most detailed points of individual events, right down to the feel of how warm or cold he felt, what the air smelled like, the feel of something on his hands or elsewhere on his skin. The memories were always extraordinarily detailed and vivid. But, those memories always were disjointed, like he was remembering fractions of whole memories. And memories would intrude at the oddest moments. The memories often intruded at the worst times. The memories that made it hard for him to concentrate completely on the task before him.

One of those times was when he was washing the dishes. A memory, triggered by a sound from outside, flashed up into his mind while he was washing a frying pan. He dropped the pan and his aunt hit him in the side of the head with it. The next thing he remembered was waking up in his cupboard late at night or early in the morning.

That was the night the headache started. The one that never went away.

The next morning he was sent to school with the headache still greatly bothering him. Walking to school in a round about route - to avoid his cousin's new gang from laying in wait for him - he spent the time thinking about how he could make his mind stop bothering him.

He waited until the lunch break and quickly went into the school library. There, he sought out books that covered memory. There, he found a book that covered improving one's memory recall.

Quickly he found a place to sit and read. He read through it and moved onto the next. Then the next.

It took him a few weeks to read everything the library had to cover on memory. However, he begun to understand what his problem was. He learned about people who had perfect memory, and he learned how people developed perfect memory. He learned about 'mind palaces' and how people who had to speak in public used them to remember their speeches, or their lines of script.

He also learned that meditation was often used by people to remember things. And how meditation could be used to order an unordered mind; or, one that was simply cluttered with unorganised memories. So, during those times he was locked in cupboard, he learned to meditate.

Once he managed to meditate, he learned to review his memories. And he learned how to file them away within his mind.

To file them away he built a palace within his mind. And, within that palace, he created library shelves. And on those library shelves he filed his memories.

At first it took a lot of effort, as things moved slowly. Each memory took time to sort out and find a place within his shelf space to place it. One of the first things he learned after that was that he wouldn't have enough shelf space to file everything. And that, once he did, how would he quickly find everything again.

And he also quickly learned that while he was meditating or was sorting his memories his headache receded. When he was locked in his cupboard and knew he wouldn't be allowed out for hours, he meditated. And, after many months of practice, he could drop into his meditative state while still allowing all five senses to be aware. This he called conscious meditation rather than the deep meditation of when he shut all senses off, or when he was sorting memories.

He had also learned from the school librarian at his Primary School that he could 'order' library books be brought it on short term loans. The librarian had come to like the young raven haired boy for his focus on quiet study. So, when he asked her if the library could purchase more books on a particular subject, she took the time to explain to him about the inter-library exchange system.

And Harry made a lot of use out of it.

Some of the things Harry learned during those early days and into the following few years were:

1.Creating his mind palace and ordering his memories made it immensely easier for him to recall at will.2. He had a whole set of memories from when he was an infant that looked like hallucinations. Either that, or magic existed.3. He was rarely any longer distracted by stray memories - and he was looking at knocking those back to being even rarer.4. He required far less sleep.5. He was rarely bothered by the headache any more, unless he got angry.6. He was able to better control his emotions, so was far less likely to become angry.7. He could speed-read a book at the library, memorising its contents. Then, he could spend the time to read it while he was in his meditative state. Even then it was still read faster than normal.8. If the memories he had as an infant were real, then he knew what had really happened to his parents, and why he was now living with the Dursleys.9. He only had to study something once, and he knew it from then on. He did not need to review his work, nor study for exams.

24th July 1991 – Four Years Later:

Harry Potter was standing at the stove, cleaning it, while his so-called family were either gorging themselves, his uncle and cousin, or overly primly picky eating, their breakfasts. The same breakfasts he'd only recently finished cooking but was not allowed to partake in.

As always, he was focussing on keeping his anger in check while he went about the chore.

The sound of a squeaky hinge came from the front of the house. That was the sound of the mail flap.

"Dudley," snorted his uncle. "Go and get the mail."

The fat cousin angrily whined, "Make Harry get it. I've not finished!"

With barely a pause the uncle snapped out, "Boy! Get the mail!"

Tamping his rising anger down, Harry replied, "Yes, Uncle Vernon." He placed the cleaning rag and spray cleaner on the bench top alongside the stove and went out into the entry hall to collect the mail.

Picking it up from the floor he quickly began to sort through it. His uncle demanded the mail be sorted with the junk mail immediately disposed of into the bin.

Quickly sorting the mail, Harry found a most unusual envelope amongst the normal mail. It was unusual in that it was made of a type of paper he'd not come across before; it lacked a stamp or postal mark; and was addressed to him, even down to his 'Cupboard Under the Stairs'. It was also the first item of mail he'd ever personally received. It left him stunned.

Hesitating but a moment he quickly stuffed it into the front left pocket of his oversized and torn jeans, before returning to the final sorting of the mail. And quickly walked back to the kitchen. After all, it would not do for his so-called relatives to wait one moment longer than they absolutely had to when receiving their mail.

Placing the mail next to his uncle's right hand without a word Harry quickly returned to cleaning the stove. The sooner he had the chore done the sooner he could begin on cleaning the breakfast dishes, and the sooner he could retreat to his cupboard to find out who, and why someone, had written to him.

After he had the dishes and cutlery of the Dursley's breakfast put away Harry was able to return to his cupboard. He'd managed, this time, to grab two slices of - now cold - toast and some uneaten bacon. These he pulled out of his pockets to make a sandwich.

After making it he put the sandwich down and drew out the letter addressed to him out of his pocket. Opening it he found a couple of sheets of what looked like somewhat stiff slightly yellow paper made of the same material as the envelope. Written therein, apparently, he had been accepted to attend a magic school called Hogwarts.

The letter also held a document detailing what schools supplies he'd need. One of the items, a cauldron, triggered within him a memory. It was a memory of a place called 'The Leaky Cauldron', which stood as the gateway between the non-magical and magical reals of Britain.

Meditating for a moment he entered his 'mind palace' and found the relevant memory. Reviewing it, he found where it was located; Charing Cross Road near Leicester Square Tube station. Then a short walk south. Identified by a swinging sign of a cauldron with a big crack near the bottom. The wall had only a dark wooden door in a blank white wall.

Now, how to get there. He searched his memories relating to maps and found what he needed. A quick scan through and he had it figured out. He needed to catch an overland National Rail train to Balham. Then switch to the Underground rail system for the Northern Line. Then ride straight through to Leicester Square.

Getting there and back wasn't difficult. His mental rail maps said it would only take him a little over two hours each way. Convincing his aunt to allow him to go to the local public library for the day would only require a little persuasion. He only had to play to her insecurities using what he learned in the book 'Reinventing Influence'.

But did he want to come back? No, not really. He knew the lies his aunt and uncle told him about his parents and how he came to have the scar on his forehead were just that; lies. And he remembered being taken to the bank in that alley behind the pub.

No, he'd tell his aunt he was heading out for the day (so he wouldn't be underfoot) and make his way directly to the bank. There, he hoped to find out if his parents had left him any money. If not, he'd race back home and do what he could to make his own way in life.