Chapter 1
When Harry had learned about the journal that was invading Ron’s little sister's mind, he knew he needed to do something about it. He couldn’t sit ideally by why the poor girl was dragged around the castle without any clue where or who she was, killing roosters and scaring spiders. So, when he found the journal in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, he took it. For safekeeping of course. Nevermind the fact that he felt as if he had to pick it up. As if something -or someone- was in the back of his head saying “mine Mine MINE”. So he took the journal, found its secrets, and slayed the basilisk. All while he was twelve. No one seemed worried that when the diary took him to the 40s, towards the end of the vision, people could begin to see Harry.
This takes us to his present time. Harry Potter is fourteen, and tomorrow, he will enter a maze. Harry lays in his bed, Hedwig sitting on his chest and he simply breathes deeply, staring at his ceiling. He lazily pets his bird, worrying about tomorrow. After all, he wasn’t even the true champion. Even his private lessons he started with Dumbledore the year prior couldn't help him with this. He often wondered if the Professor knew that he would be tasked with this tournament. He was always saying that he had a “hard road ahead of him” when speaking of his Fourth year.
Deciding then and there that he would get no sleep, he grabbed his wand, threw on his shoes and swung his cloak over his shoulders. When he turned to see if he needed anything else, all the warning he got was a quick, “Chirp”, before he got a face full of feathers and Hedwig comfortable on his shoulder.
“Ow girl, I was just about to ask if you were coming, you didn’t have to jump me.” Muttering a quick Lumos got him a good view of the room he shared with his housemates, the warm red and gold tones, along with the more muted browns. Always a comforting sight at the end of a long day. A warm room that would usually make even the strongest wixen’s eyes grow heavy, but was doing nothing for Harry tonight. As he made his way out the door, his pajama robes pocket caught on Neville’s bedpost, making him stumble, and hitting the wall with a light THUD.
“Shit! Nox.”, He began, but it was a touch too late, Neville was staring at him, barely awake at all, squinting his eyes,
“‘Arry? Mate whadda you doin’ up?”, Yawn, “go ta bed. Biggg day.” And then he was out again.
Willing himself not to laugh at his classmate, the Potter boy got up and left the room, and instead of stopping in the common room like he had originally planned, he kept walking, down the tower stairs, past classroom and corridors until eventually he came to the Come and Go room, as the elves took to calling it. After doing the ritual to go in, he entered the basic room of requirement. With its endless piles of furniture, potions, paintings, and books. This was just what he needed tonight.
As he walked the aisles, he once again felt something calling to him, as he had felt many, many times before. Everytime he came into this room.
He wanted to find what was calling out to him, but the last time he came to this room and followed something calling to him, it turned out to just be a simple pebble, so you can’t really get your hopes up for this type of thing.
…And yet, he had nothing else to do until the maze that night. He didn’t even have any classes that day, so, “I might as well look, right? It can’t hurt just to have a peak around. Who knows, maybe I’ll find a matching rock.” Hedwig, being unimpressed by her boy, decided to bite his ear. Lovingly of course.
So, with Harry making up his mind, he decided to look for it. And three hours of searching afterwards he found… a box.
“Well.. I don't know what I was expecting. Iit doesn't even seem like there's anything in here, I mean, it’s not even large enough to be a real chest, even if it is wood.” He picked it up, looking at the engraving on it, it seemed to have an odd symbol, that seemed vaguely familiar to him, like a triangle with a line and circle on one part of it, and a carved picture of three men and a robed figure on another part, all written in a strange language. “Well, it’s weird and seems empty, reckon we should open it. I guess I'm destined to find useless items in this room.” Shaking the box one more time just to make sure it was empty before he opened it, he suddenly heard a gear twisting as he went to open it, only for the stupid thing to stab his finger through the keyhole, “OW! What the hell, box?? You just stabbed me??” As he lifted up the box to toss it, suddenly he wasn’t even in the room of requirements, but he was in a meadow in front of a large manor house, standing up, and rubbing his eyes, he once again found himself transported. This time, he was in Diagon Alley, in front of Gringotts. And he would assume this was a dream if it wasn’t for Hedwig's razor sharp claws digging their way into his shoulder, and the box in his still bleeding hands.
Also for the fact that he was immediately knocked to the ground by a passerby, A wizard going into Gringotts, and glaring at him. It was then Harry suddenly remembered that he was in fact, in his pajamas.
Also, he had no money on him to grab a change of clothes.
God Rita Skeeter was gonna have a field day with this one.