Boy and the Begining

Harry couldn't help but stare at the walls that arched up and all around him, like being trapped in a giant Faberge egg, especially with its many colourful mosaics of various exotic looking creatures, peoples and places, created with what appeared to be precious jewels and metals. They were surprisingly life-like to the point where Harry thought he saw a woman that was standing before a bird by a well swish her skirts in some invisible breeze.

He rubbed his eyes under his glasses, muttering to himself about replacing them.

The rest of the room was carpeted in a strange curly golden substance that reminded him of raw sheep's wool he had seen in his travels, but was softer then angora when he bent down to touch it (1).

At the center of the room siting on ringed emerald lounges in silver gilt, were a group of people.

These people were arguing heatedly about something. Harry, not understanding their words, was at a lost to what was going on, or what had just happened to him.

It was while Harry was shifting from foot to foot, noteing that he had control of his limbs again, but his magic was still feeling to fuzzy, that the talking had stopped and he was now being stared at by the five arguers, or, given how he'd ended up here, five well dressed, obviously well off Abnormals.

One of them, a breath taking women that was petite with perfectly proportioned curves outlined in her grayish green silk toga-like dress that fell to just above her knees and pale, like damp lime stone, glared especially hard at him through long wavy hair so pale a blond that it looked nearly transparent, like a still image of a waterfall. The affronted orbs were distinctly non-human, a dark all-consuming blackness, and as she blinked, he saw a secondary eyelid briefly cover them and retract.

She marched over to him, screeching in rage, waving her hands at him, talking at him in a demanding manner, when he shook his head, he was alarmed to find his shirt collar grabbed and yanked upwards until his toes dangled, she began to shout at him, shaking him like a rag doll.

"I don't know what the hell you're saying!" Harry finally hollered back, completely terrified out of his wits.

There was more babble at his shout, but at least the woman had stopped shaking him, though he wasn't fond of her subsequent follow up of tossing him like a discarded towel across the room and in the general direction of one of the occupied chaise's, only to be deftly caught by a lean sort of person, thin but not emaciated, more sleek, with hair that was currently reflecting the dark boiling clouds outside, where Harry now realized he should have stayed.

This new person to have hold of him without his permission was of an androgynous build so it as hard to tell their gender, if they even identified with one or not at all. They pulled him towards their face and, without warning, kissed him right smack on both cheeks and on the center of his forehead.

Harry, being somewhat shocked at this, was further surprised when he felt a strange tingling sensation move from his lips, up along either side of his jaw, then his face, then his ears, until the tingle's travel suddenly sharply moved inwards and stabbed him right in the brain. It was like being suddenly trapped in the center of a tornado with millions of crickets that suddenly burst into song.

Fortunately for Harry's skull, it was a brief peck of agony. When he regained his senses, he found himself leaning against the chest of the person who had given him...a greeting? (he'd witnessed similar actions done between some people as they greeted each other, but his throbbing headache and the threatening situation put otherwise to that one interpretation Harry's meager understanding had.

"There now, I believe he should be able to understand you Emocionada, really, you can be rather unnecessarily abrasive at times, he's just a child after all," the kisser scolded in what, to Harry's poor brain translated smoothly as English.

The women who had first accosted him huffed, sneering at the kisser.

"He is still a mortal, a male mortal I might add, a male magical mortal who will eventually grow up and make no end of problems for my people now that he has seen me. We are Xana, his kind will always hunt us down, steal our daughters and sisters for their own perverted means, killing our precious Cuélebre, stealing our things…ug! No! I don't know how he found our meeting hall, but he must be eliminated Mari!" (2)(3)(4)

"Now, now, there is no need for violence, after all, he is just a child, and most likely the little mortal got lost in one of your excellent storms Mari, and was drawn to us by the guiding spell that I left behind so you all would know this year's meeting place. We certainly can't kill the boy because of some unfortunate misunderstanding," the third voice that filled Harry's ears chided good-natured.

He was old, with a regal, though slightly long face, salt and pepper coarse hair, and…yes, those did look like donkey ears sticking up through the long straight locks, and dressed in dark brown robes trimmed in black. Harry took a moment to take THAT in. Fortunately for Harry, he'd seen stranger, (though not attached to anything so close to human looking) so the shock was more statement really, and not for long.

"I have to agree with the Cuélebre lover," scathed a darkly dressed man in a flowing cape of obsidian black with finely detailed black armor encrusted with dark rubies. He was huge, broad, and quite rightly intimidating, "they have a habit of stealing our treasures as well. Treasures both mundane and highly sacred! As lord of the Mouros, I support his extermination to preserve my people's treasures from ending up in a mortal's grubby paws, child or no. They all lose their innocence to their natural greed eventually!" (5)

Emocionada hissed like a tea kettle at the Mouros for the Cuelebre lover comment, but nodded along with the rest of his words.

Meanwhile an old man in the purple pants with a furry silver belt and nothing else, remained silent as he watched his fellows bicker, occasionally scratching his hairy chest. He looked like an old wrinkled monkey with a thin silver beard, which he stroked idly. He appeared to be listening, but his eyes were very much on the boy in their midst.

"Silence," Purple Pants eventually said in a firm quiet tone that somehow seemed to override the others arguments and they all fell silent.

The room was still as the others waited to hear what the old venerable personage would say.

"Chimichangas," he declared finally, with a sage nod, "yes, I think that would go well with lunch."

The four others and their unwelcome mortal guest stared at the old man, who tittered to himself as food began magically appearing on the round golden table before them. The old man hummed appreciatively at the spread, twirling his beard mumbling "ah, the cooks remembered the fried bananas as well, excellent!"

The table soon filled with dishes that Harry recognized from his travels such as the Paella (6), but there was also foreign foods such as sushi, pan fired mackerel, and things so foreign that Harry was rather disturbed in the stomach to see, let alone contemplate as food, one of which the advocate for his execution grudgingly asked for.

"Passed the Gagh Gillamo, might as well have a full stomach before I kill him." the xana grudgingly assented to the postponement for the moment. (7)

"Stop being such a savage Emo, your scaring the mortal," chided Mari, as they attempted to coax the boy into eating a little bit of the honey fried mango.

Said scared mortal didn't know what to do. But his fear was slowly giving way to a certain hysteria, which caused him to giggle in a desperate sort of way when the donkey man, Gillamo, began regaling to him the story of an ancestor of his who became a monk in the mortal realm and bestowed the gift of Donkeyhood temporarily to a simple hostler named Pablo and his amusing experience as the steed of an overweight archbishop (8) or the time when a distant cousin of his acquired the rather unfortunate amorous attentions of a dragon (9).

By the time that everyone, even Harry (who figured by this point he should try to enjoy his last meal), had eaten their fill, the table was wiped clean and everyone's tempers were slightly assuaged by the midday feast.

"Now, the matter of the mortal," Purple Pants finally said, after daintily wiping his mouth with a silver napkin. He settled back into his seat as he thought deeply on the issue.

The others waited with baited breath and full stomachs.

This would be the tie breaker, as two were for killing Harry and two were against killing Harry.

Finally, the old man nodded to himself and began mumbling under his breath.

"Yes, only way really…after all the problem was…but then who would want to...but still?"

"Just spit it out Nuberu! Some of us got an actual civilization of people whose concerns they need to deal with!" the Xana snapped, finally having lost her patience. (10)

She fell silent sullenly though under his stern gaze, before he finally spoke.

"It seems that everyone has no problems with him being a child, am I correct?" he finally asked.

"Of course not, he can't help being a runt," the Moruos Lord snarked.

Harry was not in the mental state to be insulted by the runt comment at the moment.

"Yes well, we can't all be giants when we want to be Lord Mossli, anyway, I believe the matter lies in the concern over the potential harm he may bring if he tells others what he's seen or waits when he is older..."

"Er, sorry to interrupt sir, but I dont really have anyone to tell, I'm an orphan, and I tend to prefer remaining invisible to an extent to continue to maintain my freedom."

"Well, that's one thing out of the way at least. Hermits just seem to be younger and younger every century," the old fellow sighed, in know way doubting Harry's claim, he could taste the truth of it.

"Well, then the growing up later to be a nuisance part then, this is where the division seems to be at a logger head- at a logger head! He heee! Mortals and their amusing sayings! -yes, well, the only thing to be done is remove that potential!"

"Finally the old man makes sense!" Emocionada exclaimed. She stood up and reached towards Harry who happened to still be in the lap of the stormy haired Abnormal sitting across from her, a long thin dagger suddenly melted out of thin air into her hand, "do not worry mortal, I shall make it swift and painless, you are a child after all, so you shall be granted that mercy."

The dagger suddenly ripped itself from her hand by a gust of wind, and landed itself into the wrinkled, hairy hands of the old monkey.

"My, my, young people today, how they misinterpret things," the old man chided, catching the dagger and examining it appreciatively, before using the tip to pick his teeth, which Harry noticed, a little hysterically again, reminded him of a baboon's choppers more than a human's "yes, quite a misunderstanding, what I meant to say is that while the potential for disaster is there, we can remove it, but not in the rather final end of death you seem to have mistaken my words for my dear, we merely need to ensure that the undesirable qualities never manifest."

"What do you mean Lord Nubero?" asked the now weary Mari.

"Well, by making him one of us of course. He is unlikely to turn against his own best interests after all."

The man smiled at Harry benignly. Harry though was with the rest of them.

Confused.

It took a moment, as the words sank into the adult abnormals around Harry, before they all erupted into another loud argument, reminding Harry strongly of when he first arrived.

"Oh yes!" the old man chortled, cutting across the heated arguments and nodding his head, "though of course such a thing cannot be done, not while he is still so young, and still having so much to do! Oh yes, the wind tells me things…hmmm…yes…I believe we shall wait...hmmm...10 years, yes, by then he should be properly old enough by this century's standards for such things."

"No! I will not support this!" the Xana hissed angrily, seeming to get what the old man was driving at, though Harry still felt very much at sea, "I will not subject one of my sisters to…"

"He hee heee!" the old man laughed, unable to help the amusement from bursting forth at the young female's reaction, "you need not worry my dear, your sisters would not be appropriate for this particular youngster given…well, let's just say that your people do not have the…particular assets that would make this arrangement possible…well, it would be possible, but both parties would be vastly miserable in the end."

Emocionada paused in her rant, seeming to settle as she turned a less aggressive and more contemplative eye on Harry, who was still unsure as to what exactly was going on, or why whatever the man said seemed to suddenly calm the woman down.

"Well then," she finally said, in a surprisingly easy tone, "then I agree it is a viable solution."

"Splendid!" Nubero crowed.

"No, not splendid!" the dark clad lord shot out, standing up, "that just leaves the responsibility of this in the hands of the rest of us, accept for Mari! Just because he is no longer a potential threat to the Xana in one way, doesn't mean he will be any less of a potential thief! What's to stop him from telling the rest of his kind, loner or not? He is not worthy of any us either way! I will not foist this insane plan on one of my people!"

"Hmmm…yes, youth today, no matter how old, need a better education. You are aware of what he is, are you not my dear underground royal? How exactly is it is he was able to get as far as to this room in the first place? Not to mention finding the castle? "

There was a sudden silence at this then the old man continued.

"His sort, while by no means any better, and in many ways worse than the mundane little humans out there, do have certain ways that can bind them to secrecy nearly as effectively as slitting his throat."

He turned to Harry, face very serious, "child, you are aware by now that you have encroached into a place and within witnessed representatives of beings, some of only a handful at that, who value their existence on remaining secret from mortals at the very least?"

Harry nodded; he may not understand much of what was going on but that was something he got, his life being on the line and all, then added hesitantly, "yes sir."

"The winds have told me that you are not aware exactly of who and what you are, that you are journeying. Your ignorance of your origins will lead you into realms of experiences that others of your sort have rarely seen or experienced, if ever. You will stir things that have long been complacent in their obscurities. You are change, child, this is a destiny you cannot escape, you breath this to me with every exhalation into the world, with every breeze created from your body as it moves. You are the butterfly who flaps it wings."

Harry received looks of interest from the others now that left him feeling distinctly uncomfortable combined with the man's words. He didn't really understand what he meant, so he stayed silent and merely nodded.

"Yes, you will understand when you're older, as is the way of the young," the old man mused, "now, what we need from you is two things Harry James Potter." Harry stiffened his eyes wide at the sudden knowledge of his name on the lips of a stranger he had never meant.

"The first thing that we need from you is a vow never to reveal what you have seen here today. Now repeat after me: I Harry James Potter,"

"I, Harry James Potter," Harry repeated dutifully, though a little hesitantly.

"Vow on my magic,"

"Vow on my magic"

"To not reveal what I have witnessed this day, except through permission of those who are here should they so allow it,"

"To not reveal what I have witnessed this day, except through permission of those who are here should they so allow it,"

"So mote it be."

"So mote it be."

As the last word of the vow left his lips Harry felt an odd sensation in his chest, as though a hot tingling weight had suddenly clamped around his body in a giant's fist, before fading away.

"There we go," Nubero said with a satisfied nod, before he explained the second thing Harry would have to do.

"10 years from now, on yhe sunset of your day of birth, five will approach you and each shall take you aside to ask you a question. To those men, when they ask it, no matter what it is, you must say yes, do you understand? If you refuse, you forfeit your life."

Seeing his alarm, Nubero was quick to give him some reassurance.

"What will be asked of you will not be outside your capability or complete consent."

Eyes wide, Harry really saw no other way out of this vow if he wanted to keep his life, so he hesitantly nodded and was made to take a second vow on his magic to that extent.

"Well, now that it's settled, how about some dessert while I explain a little something about each of my colleagues, yes?"

Some grumbling from the others later, everyone was settled back into their seats, a sixth plush green lounge conjured for Harry who sat down gratefully, having felt a little uncomfortable sitting in a perfect strangers lap while the possibility of his own execution was still strong.

He even helped himself to some fried milk, a classic Spanish dessert he hadn't tried that had a firm, cool, milk-pudding center which contrasted with a warm, crunchy encasing of flour and egg and dusted with sugar and cinnamon. It was actually rather tasty.

Harry listened, his fear and confusion over everything that had previously transpired giving way, as is the norm for children once reassured that they were no longer in trouble, to the distraction of the stories being told, for the first time for Harry, from the mouths of fellow Abnormals that he now realized he had read mentioned in his books.

The old man explained about his people, first of all, a group of simian-like immortal royals, whose origins were so old that even they had forgotten it. They were often referred to as Monkey Men, flying monkeys, or monkey demigods. They were featured prominently in many mortal legends and folklore, such as Nubero in the local legends of Spain he explained:

"According to the mortal Asturian mythology, my name, Nuberu literally means "The Cloud Master" (also known in Western Asturias as Reñubeiru or Xuan Cabritu)..."

"And he never let's us forget it during game night, the old coot," Mari grumbled sourly, sipping on an Appletini.

"-and I have been considered the Asturian divinity of clouds and storms, though my people's gifts lie in wind manipulation and Abacomancy, which is employing a method of reading the future, the present and the past and/or provide help to a problem at hand by using small particles in the breeze (Sand, Dust, Ash, etc.) as well as omnilinguilism which is understanding any form of spoken language. We also have the ability to conjure clouds that are solid enough to fly upon, which is our main means of travel. Sometimes I am represented as a man with a thick beard."

"That's what happens when you don't shave for a few centuries" muttered the Xana into her hot chocolate.

"…who wears goat leathers and a big hat," Nuberu continued with another look in her direction, "In my youth I was considered to be somewhat cruel with people, I admit, damaging fields and pastures, although I was later kind with those who had helped me, I'll admit to having a bit of a temper in my youth. The mundane mortal Folklorists think that I am an Asturian remnant of the ancient god Taranis, who also ruled over the skies and was worshipped in Asturias until the Middle Ages, but that was actually a brother of mine, ah good ol' Yoric, I knew him well"

"My kind has also featured in the stories of the Monkey King, a cousin of mine, Sun Wokong (11), along with a few other myths and legends over the centuries that had stories about monkeys or monkey men. I believe the last sighting of one of us was by some mortal in America in the 1800's, rather unflattering representation, but he was a mortal after all, they often get their stories wrong, or make up things to better explain the unknown," he chortled to himself, stroking his beard, "we still dress up in pointy hats and cackle every family reunion when he shows up, "fly my pretty, fly!'…ah, good times." (12)

"Now the Xana, which is what my dear Emocionada is the current empress of, is an all-female species of water dwellers that is also found in Asturian mythology. Always female, they are a creature of extraordinary beauty believed to live in fountains, rivers, waterfalls or forested regions with pure water. They are usually described as small or slender with long blonde or light brown hair (most often curly), which she tends to with gold or silver combs woven from sun or moonbeams."

The Xana rolled her eyes, while the others snickered at the romanticized depiction.

"As if we would attend all day to our hair, mortal story weavers are idiots!"

"Yes, well," the old man coughed before continuing, "they have been accused by mortals of exchanging other women's children for their own, which is again another fabrication, as Xanas value their offspring to highly for such things, at least in the majority."

"One insane sister, she was put down humanely and her stolen offspring returned to their parents," Emocionada clarified, somewhat resigned by this point to the pointless storytelling (in her opinion, but not willing to promote ignorant human fictions)

"When Xanas used to be a part of the world, mortals equated them with the promise of treasures, due to their…fondness of cuelibre, a winged serpent breed cousin to the dragons and sea serpents, that have an alliance with both the Xana and the Mouros, guarding both the Xana enclaves and the Mouros treasures. Unfortunately, the mortals are also rather ignorant of the nature of the relationships between the Xana and the Cuelibre, and it was not uncommon for some fool mortals to either slay these guardians in the mistaken notion that they were keeping the Xana imprisoned, or slain to steal the treasures they guard. It is why all three peoples have hidden themselves from mortals and why they are more likely to kill you then spare you," the old man said with a heavy sigh and grave tone, " which leads me to the Morous."

The dark clad Lord sneered, sipping sullenly at a goblet of some dark coloured liquid that smelled strongly of alcohol, muttering under his breath.

"The Morous, as mentioned earlier, are treasure makers and forgers. Our dear Lord Moliss' people are a bit more popular in mortal mythos and have been mentioned as a part of mortal Galician, Asturian and Portuguese mythology, the Mouros are depicted as a race of supernatural beings.

"From my understanding, they once inhabited the lands of Galicia, Asturias and Portugal since the beginning of time. For unknown reasons that are kept only to the Mouros, they were forced to take refuge under the earth; they were usually seen by people in the surroundings of Castros as well as long barrows. The Mouros do not usually go out of their dwellings, except for taking food during the odd shortage, and also on special dates like Midsummer, again rarely, and only for their own mysterious reasons."

The old man winked lewdly at the Muros King, who glared.

"The Mouros sometimes like to appear as giants or warriors, and they include the legend of the moura encantada and the legend of the mourinhos or maruxinhos, a very small elf like people who live under the ground, though it is my understanding that these are a subspecies of the Mourous, considered a cousin class I believe."

Said lord of the underground supernatural beings snarled, but still remained more or less quiet, most likely, in Harry's later estimation, already plotting a way to make the old codger pay for the affronting get together, and the future commitment he was unceremoniously dragged into.

"The next on our list is the lovely Mari who is actually an amalgamation of two distinct entities of an elemental nature that later formed the present being whose company we all so enjoy.

Mari flipped him the bird.

"The first is the original Mari, which was depicted in mortal Basque mythology, she was considered a goddess—a lamia—of the Basques. Legends connect her to the weather: when she and her then separate half, named Maju, traveled together hail would fall, her departures from her favorite caves would be accompanied by storms or droughts, and which cave she lived in at different times would determine dry or wet weather. This is partly true as they were both elements of storms and there aimless traversing around the globe would commingle with the natural weather currents of the planet, or the workings of other elemental powers, such as my people.

"The second part of the amalgamation was the god Maju (also known as Sugoi or Surgaar) that was associated with storms and thunder. He is normally imagined as a dragon or serpent by the mortals, and is considered the male half of our presently delightful Mari. Unlike present Mari's female half, there are very few remaining legends about Maju. The basic purpose of his existence is to periodically join with female Mari in the mountains to generate the storms.

"After a time though, they became so lost in their unions, and so desirous to be further and further one with each other, that they got their wish and merged as one being never to separate again. Our present Mari continued with the female portion's name as it appealed aesthetically to them. As I stated, Mari's passage in the world creates storms, and is immortal as much as planetary weather is such. Occasionally, they will take to a mortal or another immortal, and things will happen, such as the bestowing of abilities such as Mari did when they gave you the ability to understand any language ever spoken, though I believe many mundane and some magical animals were exempt from it?"

The weather god nodded.

"Yes, well, let's finish off with our fine Mr. Gillamio and his people yes?"

The man with the donkey ears looked resigned.

"Unlike some of the others, Gillamio's people tend to prefer hiding in plain sight as it were. This is perhaps due to their ability to change their forms into that of a donkey or mule. They have the ability to communicate while in donkey form and it is rumoured that the Midosians, as they prefer to be called, are descendants of the Greek ruler King Midas who had a rather colourful relationship with the Greek gods and was cursed by one of them with donkey ears (13). It was said that his decedents developed the ability to turn into either full men or women or into full donkeys. The most powerful of them were said to be able to attain a partial state, the desired ears of their ancestor, and those who had the partial state ability were usually one of the first 3 noble traits of the Midosians electing a leader representative.

"Some also have the ability to grant the gift onto others, and are blessed with superhuman endurance. One of these people will also meet you 10 years hence."

'I'll bet,' Harry thought to himself, thinking about the story of Pablo having to carry that overweight archbishop, he reckoned a great deal of endurance and strength was needed for a job like that.

"Now that explanations have been wrought and tales shared along with some rather fine food, I believe it is time that we bid goodbye to our young Mister Potter."

Harry only had enough time to blink before a glittery red power was wafted in his face by Nubero. The last thing he saw was the benign man's face as he idly scratched his head with his tail before things went dark.

Ooo ooo ooo

Harry awoke sometime later the next day, tucked into his enlarged bird house shelter.

He would have thought it a dream if it weren't for the bright purple silk pajamas he was now sporting and a sticky note attached to his forehead that said:

Remember Butterfly, a decade on the sunset of the day of your birth.