The moment Harry stumbled upon Runestone Castle, his life changed in ways he could never have imagined. The castle, hidden away on a hill that only he could see, offered him more than just a refuge from the Dursleys—it offered him freedom. Within its ancient walls, he found wealth, power, and a place to call his own. It was more than a home; it was a sanctuary that whispered promises of greatness, of a future where he was no longer the downtrodden boy in the cupboard under the stairs, but a young wizard with the potential to shape his own destiny.
The treasure Harry had uncovered in the castle's secret vaults was beyond anything he had ever dreamed of. Chests filled with gold, jewels, and ancient artifacts lined the walls of the cavernous room. But it wasn't just the wealth that captivated Harry—it was the sense of ownership, of belonging, that the castle offered. For the first time in his life, he had something that was truly his, something that no one could take away from him. The knowledge that he was the master of Runestone Castle filled him with a newfound confidence, a sense of power that had been foreign to him in his years with the Dursleys.
In the weeks following his discovery, Harry underwent a transformation. The meek, obedient boy who had once scrambled to please his relatives and teachers began to fade away, replaced by someone stronger, someone who no longer cared about the opinions of others. The Dursleys had always accused him of being a freak, of being unnatural, and now, Harry found that he didn't mind. He was different, and for the first time, he embraced it. He no longer sought the approval of those around him because he had something far greater than their acceptance—he had a castle, a legacy, and a future that belonged to him alone.
The changes in Harry's behavior were subtle at first. He began to spend more and more time at the castle, often arriving home late in the evening, long after the Dursleys had finished their dinner. Where once he had been careful to avoid their wrath by coming home on time and doing his chores without complaint, he now found himself indifferent to their anger. What did it matter if Uncle Vernon yelled at him for being late? What did it matter if Aunt Petunia scolded him for not doing the dishes? They were nothing compared to the treasures hidden within Runestone Castle, the secrets of magic that he was slowly beginning to uncover.
Harry's mornings changed as well. He began leaving the house earlier and earlier, long before the sun had risen, just so he could spend a few precious hours at the castle before heading to school. The Dursleys noticed his early departures, but Harry brushed off their questions with vague excuses about wanting to avoid Dudley and his gang. In truth, he no longer cared what they thought. The Muggle world, with its petty concerns and dull routines, was losing its grip on him. His focus was on the castle, on the magical world that was slowly revealing itself to him.
As his time at the castle increased, so did Harry's disinterest in school. The lessons seemed pointless, the homework trivial. Why should he waste his time learning about multiplication tables and spelling when he could be studying the ancient tomes he had found in the castle's library? His teachers began to notice his lack of engagement, but their attempts to reprimand him fell on deaf ears. Harry no longer cared about school; his true education was taking place in the hidden rooms and dusty corridors of Runestone Castle.
The Dursleys were quick to notice the changes in Harry. They had always been suspicious of him, always quick to blame him for any misfortune, but now their suspicions grew into outright hostility. Uncle Vernon's face would turn purple with rage whenever Harry came home late, and Aunt Petunia's sharp tongue lashed out at him more viciously than ever before. But where once their anger had sent a shiver of fear through him, now it only made him more defiant. He no longer feared their punishments because he knew that their power over him was an illusion. He had something far greater than their approval—he had a castle that was waiting for him.
One day, after a particularly heated argument with Aunt Petunia over his refusal to do the dishes, Harry made a decision. He was done with being their servant, their punching bag. If they wanted the house cleaned, they could do it themselves. He had better things to do—like cleaning his castle. But he would need supplies. The castle had been abandoned for centuries, and the layers of dust and grime that covered every surface would require more than just a few old rags to clean.
Over the next few days, Harry began quietly taking cleaning supplies from the Dursleys' house. It was easy enough; Aunt Petunia was so obsessed with keeping her house spotless that she didn't notice a few missing items. Harry smuggled buckets, scrubbers, and old rags out of the house, hiding them in his cupboard until he could take them to the castle. He even managed to take a mop and a bottle of cleaning solution, though he had to be careful not to arouse suspicion. Aunt Petunia would have noticed if her mop had suddenly disappeared, so Harry took it one piece at a time, wrapping the handle in an old towel to hide it from view.
Once he had gathered enough supplies, Harry set to work on the castle. It was a daunting task. The great hall alone was the size of the Dursleys' entire house, and it was covered in a thick layer of dust that had accumulated over centuries. The windows were so dirty that they barely let in any light, and the once-grand tapestries that hung on the walls were faded and covered in cobwebs. But Harry was determined. This was his castle, and he would restore it to its former glory.
Reeny, the house-elf who had served the Gosling family for generations, was a great help in this endeavor. The little elf had been overjoyed when Harry had taken up ownership in the castle, and she was eager to assist him in any way she could. Together, they began the long process of cleaning and restoring the castle. Reeny showed Harry how to use the cleaning supplies, and with a little bit of magic, they made quick work of the dust and grime that covered the floors and walls.
But it wasn't just the inside of the castle that needed attention. The gardens and grounds around the castle were overgrown with weeds and brambles, the paths nearly invisible beneath the tangled undergrowth. Harry took it upon himself to clear away the unwanted vegetation, cutting down the overgrown bushes and pulling up the weeds that choked the flowerbeds. It was hard work, but Harry didn't mind. He found a strange sort of satisfaction in the physical labor, in seeing the fruits of his efforts as the castle's grounds slowly began to take shape.
Reeny was invaluable in this regard as well. She had an intimate knowledge of the magical plants and creatures that inhabited the castle's grounds, and she taught Harry how to distinguish between the ordinary and the magical. Some of the plants that had taken root in the gardens were valuable magical herbs, and Reeny showed Harry how to cultivate them properly. She also warned him about the magical pests that had made their homes in the castle's gardens—creatures that could be dangerous if not handled correctly.
As the days turned into weeks, Harry's focus on the castle grew stronger. He spent every spare moment there, working on the restoration or exploring its many rooms and hidden passageways. He no longer cared about school or the Dursleys' demands. His true life was at the castle, and the Muggle world was little more than an inconvenience that he had to endure until he could return to his real home.
During one of his explorations of the castle's vast library, Harry discovered an old, leather-bound book that caught his attention. The book was titled The Way of the Sword, and it was filled with detailed illustrations and instructions on swordsmanship. The idea of learning how to fight with a sword fascinated Harry, especially after everything he had been through with Dudley and his gang. Here was a way to defend himself, to become strong in a way that no one could take away from him.
The castle's armory, once a repository of finely crafted weapons, was now filled with rusted swords, dull blades, and old armor. Harry selected the least corroded of the swords, a long blade that was still surprisingly balanced despite its age. The sword was heavy in his hands, but Harry was determined to learn. Every day, after working on the castle's restoration, Harry would retreat to one of the large, empty halls and practice the exercises outlined in the book. He would swing the sword in wide arcs, practicing the basic strikes and parries, slowly building his strength and coordination.
In addition to sword fighting, The Way of the Sword also included exercises designed to build physical strength and endurance. Harry began following the book's regimen, pushing his body to its limits as he ran through the castle's corridors, lifted heavy stones in the courtyard, and practiced his strikes with the sword until his muscles ached. The training was grueling, but Harry relished the challenge. Every day, he could feel himself growing stronger, faster, more capable.
The nutritious food that Reeny provided from the castle's seemingly endless supply of provisions also began to have an effect on Harry. No longer was he living on the scraps left over by the Dursleys. At the castle, he ate hearty meals filled with fresh vegetables, meats, and fruits—meals that nourished his body and gave him the energy he needed to keep up with his demanding training regimen. Harry began to grow taller, his limbs filling out with muscle as he continued to train.
For the first time, he was reaching the ideal height and weight for his age. The malnutrition that had stunted his growth under the Dursleys' care was quickly becoming a thing of the past. Each day, he noticed changes in himself—not just physically, but mentally. He was more focused, more determined, and more self-reliant. The timid, uncertain boy who had once cowered in fear of his cousin Dudley and his aunt and uncle's wrath was now becoming a confident young man, one who understood his own value and the strength that lay within him.
As Harry honed his skills with the sword and improved his physical condition, he also became more defiant. School became less of a priority, and Harry found himself skipping more often. Why should he waste his time on mundane lessons when there was so much more to learn within the castle's walls? He had books filled with spells, magical theory, and knowledge of the magical world that he was eager to explore. The dusty tomes in the castle's library were worth more to him than anything he could learn at school, and he dove into them with a hunger for knowledge that he had never known before.
Despite his frequent visits to the castle, Harry did not move in. He continued to live at the Dursleys' house, returning each night to the cramped cupboard under the stairs. But his time at the castle became the highlight of his day. He would spend hours exploring its many rooms, practicing with the old sword he had found, or training his body to peak physical condition. When he wasn't in the castle, he would bring back books from its library to read in his cupboard, devouring every word by the dim light of a torch he had hidden away.
The teachers at his school quickly noticed Harry's increasing absence and disinterest. He was no longer the quiet, unobtrusive student who did his work without complaint. Now, when he did bother to show up, he was inattentive, often caught daydreaming or doodling in his notebooks. When reprimanded, he would shrug it off, his mind already wandering back to the castle and the lessons that truly mattered to him. He no longer feared punishment because the school had no real power over him—just like the Dursleys.
At home, the Dursleys' frustration with Harry reached new heights. Aunt Petunia's shrill voice echoed through the house every time Harry came home late or refused to do his chores. Uncle Vernon's threats grew more severe, but Harry simply ignored them. They no longer mattered to him. The more they tried to control him, the more Harry rebelled. He would slip away to the castle whenever he could, leaving the Muggle world behind as he immersed himself in his magical studies and physical training.
The Dursleys had always claimed that Harry was a troublemaker, that he was strange and different. Now, Harry embraced those accusations. If they wanted to call him a freak, he would be a freak—a freak who had a castle, who could wield a sword, and who was mastering magic. The castle had given him the confidence to stand up for himself, to reject the life the Dursleys had tried to force upon him. He was no longer their obedient little slave; he was Harry Potter, master of Runestone Castle, and he had a future that they couldn't even begin to comprehend.
As the summer days passed, Harry's transformation became more apparent. His once loose and ragged clothes began to fit more snugly as his body filled out with muscle. His once pale and gaunt face gained color, and his once timid eyes now shone with determination. He looked and felt stronger than he ever had before. The castle was his world now, and every day spent there brought him closer to the person he was meant to be.
Harry's rebellion didn't go unnoticed by the other children at school either. Dudley's gang, who had once tormented him mercilessly, found themselves facing a very different Harry. Where once he had run away from them in fear, now he stood his ground, his green eyes flashing with a confidence that left them unsettled. They tried to bully him as they always had, but Harry's training had made him quicker and stronger. When they tried to corner him, he dodged their punches with ease, his reflexes honed by hours of sword practice. Eventually, they began to avoid him, confused and afraid of the boy who had once been an easy target.
Harry's newfound independence also extended to his interactions with the Dursleys. He no longer meekly accepted their punishments or insults. When Uncle Vernon tried to lock him in his cupboard for coming home late, Harry simply slipped out through the window and disappeared into the night, making his way back to the castle where he belonged. Aunt Petunia's scoldings were met with indifference, her words rolling off him like water off a duck's back. The Dursleys no longer held any power over him, and it was driving them mad.
The castle had given Harry everything he had ever wanted—freedom, power, and a sense of belonging. But it had also given him something more: a purpose. He was no longer just the neglected boy under the stairs; he was a wizard in training, a warrior in the making. The castle had awakened something in him, something that had been buried deep inside—a drive to become something more than what the Dursleys or the world had ever expected of him.
With each passing day, Harry's connection to the castle grew stronger. It wasn't just a place to escape to—it was a part of him, and he was a part of it. The castle's ancient magic resonated with his own, and he felt its power coursing through him every time he stepped within its walls. The more he learned about the castle and its history, the more he realized that it had chosen him, just as much as he had chosen it.
The castle's library became his sanctuary. Every night, after finishing his physical training, Harry would retreat to the library, poring over the ancient texts that filled its shelves. The books were filled with knowledge that had been lost to time—spells, potions, and magical theory that had been forgotten by the modern wizarding world. Harry soaked it all up, eager to learn everything he could. The castle was his teacher, and he was its devoted student. After gathering the books, Harry would return to his cupboard under the stairs, where he would read late into the night, his mind filled with the wonders of magic.
Reeny, ever faithful, continued to assist him in his studies. The little house-elf had a wealth of knowledge about the magical world, and she was always willing to share it with Harry. She taught him about the different types of magic, the history of the wizarding world, and the secrets of the castle itself. With her help, Harry began to unlock the castle's many mysteries, discovering hidden rooms and forgotten spells that had been sealed away for centuries.
As summer turned to autumn, Harry's transformation was complete. He was no longer the frail, timid boy who had once cowered under the Dursleys' stairs. He was strong, confident, and determined. The castle had given him everything he needed to become the person he was meant to be, and he was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. The boy who had once been lost and alone had found his purpose, his strength, and his home.
But with this newfound power came new questions. What would happen when he turned eleven? When the letters from Hogwarts came, would he even want to go? Harry had found his place in the world, and it was here at Runestone Castle. The wizarding world beyond the castle's walls was still a mystery to him, but he no longer felt the same desperate need to belong to it. He was Harry Potter, and he had already found his place in the world—a place where he was in control, where he was free to be himself.
The future was uncertain, but Harry no longer feared it. Whatever lay ahead, he would face it with the strength and confidence that the castle had given him. He was ready for whatever the world had to throw at him, and he would face it on his own terms.
As Harry stood on the castle's battlements one crisp autumn morning, looking out over the rolling hills and dense forests that surrounded his home, he felt a deep sense of peace. The wind ruffled his hair, and the sun warmed his face. He had come a long way from the frightened, neglected boy who had stumbled upon the castle by accident. He had found his strength, his purpose, and his place in the world.
Harry Potter stood in front of Reeny, the house-elf who had become his closest companion in the ancient castle that he frequently visited. The young wizard's eyes gleamed with curiosity and excitement.
"Come on, Reeny, let me do a little bit of magic,"
Harry urged, his voice filled with eagerness.
"You know there are so many old wands from the Gosling family in the wand room."
The wand room, as Harry had named it, was filled with wands that had belonged to various members of the Gosling family. Each wand was carefully placed with a nameplate and a portrait of its former owner. It was a room steeped in history, and Harry was fascinated by it. The temptation to take one of the wands and try some magic was almost unbearable.
But Reeny, as always, shook her head.
"Master Harry, that is very dangerous,"
she replied firmly.
"You are yet to reach your first magical maturity. A wizard's first magical maturity usually happens between the ages of nine and eleven. If you use magic before you turn at least nine, it could damage your magical core. Even the oldest magical families never allow children to use wands early. You are very powerful, Master Harry, but even you must wait until you are nine. Even Master Eldritch didn't use a wand until he went to Hogwarts."
Harry sighed, disappointed but understanding the importance of what Reeny was saying. He had read about magical cores in the library, and the last thing he wanted was to harm his own.
"But I'm so close, Reeny,"
Harry said, trying one last time.
"I've read so much about magic, and I know I can do it."
"I know you are eager, Master Harry,"
Reeny said kindly.
"But you must be patient. It will not be long now."
Trying to change the subject and satisfy his curiosity, Harry asked,
"So, which house was Master Eldritch in at Hogwarts?"
"Master Eldritch was a Gryffindor,"
Reeny replied, a fond smile on her face.
"And his father was a Ravenclaw. Master Eldritch was a powerful wizard, and he always said, 'Fortune favors the bold.'"
Their conversation continued as Reeny shared more about the magical world. Despite never having left the castle, Reeny had a wealth of knowledge. She had never been to Hogwarts or any magical community, as she had always stayed in the castle, which was the only world she knew. However, Reeny had learned a great deal by asking questions, listening to conversations, and observing the world around her.
One of the things Reeny loved to teach Harry about was cooking. She had an extensive knowledge of recipes, both magical and mundane, and had been teaching Harry how to cook for himself.
"If you ever decide to live in the castle alone, Master Harry, you'll need to know how to cook for yourself,"
Reeny had told him with a serious expression.
Harry had also learned from Reeny how to make various wines. The castle's cellar was filled with magical and non-magical wines, most of which Reeny had crafted herself. She had taught Harry the art of winemaking, and he had eagerly absorbed the knowledge. From magical fruit wines to apple and plum wines, Harry had learned to create them all.
Despite all these fascinating lessons, what Harry looked forward to most was learning magic. He had devoured every book on magical theory, potions, ancient runes, and arithmancy that he could find in the library. But more than anything, he was eager to practice dueling spells. One book in particular, a massive tome on dueling techniques, had captured his imagination. It detailed spell combinations and advanced techniques that Harry was desperate to try.
But for now, Harry knew he had to be patient. Reeny's warnings had made it clear that he couldn't rush into using magic. He would wait until he turned nine, just as Reeny had advised, and then he would finally be able to take a wand and cast his first spell.
Until that day came, Harry would continue to learn and prepare. He had found a mentor in Reeny and a sanctuary in the castle. The knowledge he gained from his studies and the skills he learned from Reeny were building him into a powerful young wizard, ready to take on the magical world.
The ancient castle echoed with the sound of laughter, a rare and joyful noise that seemed to bring the very walls to life. Harry Potter, who had once been a lonely and withdrawn boy, was now running through the overgrown gardens, his stick-turned-wand clutched tightly in his hand. His emerald eyes were alight with excitement as he ducked behind a crumbling stone wall, trying to catch his breath.
"Come out, Dark Lady!"
Harry called out, his voice full of playful challenge.
"You can't hide from me!"
A few moments later, a shadowy figure glided through a nearby hedge. Reeny, the house-elf, had taken on her role as the dreaded Dark Lady with great enthusiasm. Though her small frame and large eyes were far from menacing, she had the uncanny ability to glide through solid objects like a ghost. This made her the perfect adversary for Harry's new game: Fighting the Dark Lady.
The game was Harry's invention, a way for him to practice what he had learned about magic without actually using a wand. Reeny, with her ability to appear suddenly and disappear just as quickly, made the game both challenging and exciting. She would take on the persona of a fearsome Dark Lady, while Harry, armed with his makeshift wand, would try to outmaneuver and defeat her.
"You'll never defeat me, young wizard!"
Reeny called out in a deep, exaggerated voice as she floated above the ground, her figure partially obscured by the shadows.
Harry grinned and crouched low behind a bush, trying to suppress his laughter. He had chosen his hiding spot carefully, knowing that the element of surprise was his best weapon against the Dark Lady. He waited for the perfect moment, then leaped out, brandishing his stick-wand.
"Expelliarmus!"
Harry shouted, pointing his wand at Reeny.
Though no real magic was performed, Harry's pronunciation of the spell was flawless. He had memorized it from one of the many books he had taken from the castle library, and he practiced it often in the solitude of his cupboard under the stairs. The wand movement, too, was precise, a flick of the wrist followed by a sharp jab in Reeny's direction.
Reeny gasped dramatically, her eyes widening as she pretended to be disarmed by the spell. She spun around in mid-air, then darted off to a new hiding place, determined to keep the game going.
"Too slow, young wizard!"
she teased, her voice echoing through the garden as she vanished through a nearby wall.
Harry didn't hesitate. He sprinted across the courtyard, his feet barely touching the ground as he chased after the elusive Dark Lady. His heart was pounding with exhilaration, not from fear, but from the sheer fun of the game. He loved the thrill of the chase, the way his imagination made the game come alive. Every time Reeny reappeared, Harry would dive behind bushes, roll across the ground, or hide behind statues, all while casting spells with his stick-wand.
"Stupefy!"
he yelled, aiming his wand at Reeny as she reappeared near the castle entrance.
Once again, Reeny played along, pretending to be struck by the spell. She let out a shriek and collapsed to the ground, her limbs splayed out in an exaggerated manner.
"Oh no! You've defeated me!"
she wailed, her voice full of mock laughed as he ran up to her, pretending to check if she was truly defeated.
He poked her gently with his wand, just to be sure.
"I did it!"
Harry exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear.
"I defeated the Dark Lady!"
But Reeny wasn't ready to let the game end just yet. With a mischievous glint in her eye, she suddenly sprang up, catching Harry off guard.
"Not so fast, young wizard!"
she cackled, her voice filled with playful malice.
"The Dark Lady always has a trick up her sleeve!"
Harry yelped in surprise and quickly jumped back, his heart racing as Reeny gave chase. He zigzagged through the garden, using every trick he could think of to evade her. He ducked behind trees, climbed over rocks, and even crawled through a narrow gap in the hedges. All the while, he continued to cast his imaginary spells, his voice ringing out with confidence and determination.
"Protego!"
Harry shouted, raising his wand as if casting a shield charm to protect himself.
Reeny's eyes sparkled with pride as she watched Harry. Despite the fact that he wasn't using real magic, his knowledge and skill were remarkable. He had memorized so many spells, and his wand movements were so accurate that it was clear he had a natural talent for magic. And more importantly, he was having fun. For a boy who had spent so much of his life feeling isolated and unloved, this game was a way for him to express himself, to be brave and bold in a world of his own creation.
As the game went on, Harry and Reeny fell into a rhythm. Reeny would appear and disappear, playing the role of the cunning Dark Lady, while Harry would strategize and use his "spells" to try and outwit her. The game wasn't just about winning; it was about the challenge, the thrill of the hunt, and the joy of using his imagination.
Sometimes, Harry would pretend to be hit by one of Reeny's attacks, dramatically throwing himself to the ground and pretending to be knocked out. Reeny would then hover over him, gloating in her victory, only for Harry to suddenly spring back to life and catch her off guard with another spell.
"Accio wand!"
Harry cried, pretending to summon Reeny's wand from her hand.
Reeny played along, tossing an imaginary wand into the air and watching as Harry "caught" it.
"You've bested me again!"
Reeny declared, her voice full of mock defeat.
"But this isn't over, young wizard. The Dark Lady always returns!"
Harry laughed, his chest heaving with exertion. He couldn't remember the last time he had so much fun. The game wasn't just a way to pass the time; it was a way for him to learn, to practice his magical skills, and to build his confidence. And more than that, it was a way for him to bond with Reeny, who had become more than just a house-elf to him—she was his best friend.
After a particularly intense round of the game, Harry finally collapsed on the soft grass, both of them laughing and Harry breathless.
"That was amazing, Reeny,"
Harry said, grinning up at the sky.
"I think that was our best game yet."
Reeny nodded, her own laughter echoing in the garden.
"Master Harry is getting very good at this. Soon, I won't be able to keep up!"
Harry beamed at the compliment. He knew that Reeny was right—he was getting better. The more they played, the more confident he became in his abilities. He could almost imagine what it would be like to hold a real wand, to cast real spells, and to face real challenges. But for now, this game was enough. It was more than enough.
As they lay there, catching their breath, Harry couldn't help but feel grateful for Reeny. When he had first discovered the castle, he had been so lost, so unsure of himself. But Reeny had been there for him, guiding him, teaching him, and most importantly, playing with him. She had shown him that magic wasn't just about power—it was about creativity, imagination, and the joy of discovery.
"Thank you, Reeny,"
Harry said softly, turning to look at her.
"Thank you for everything."
Reeny smiled warmly at him, her large eyes filled with affection.
"It's my pleasure, Master Harry. You are a very special wizard, and I'm honored to be your friend."
Harry's heart swelled with happiness. For the first time in his life, he felt like he truly belonged. He had a friend, a mentor, and a place where he could be himself. And though he knew that there were still many challenges ahead, he was no longer afraid. With Reeny by his side, he felt ready to take on the world.
The sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the castle and its grounds. Harry and Reeny stayed where they were, watching as the sky turned from orange to pink to deep purple. The day was ending, but their friendship—and their game—would continue.
"Tomorrow,"
Harry said, a mischievous glint in his eye,
"we'll play again. And this time, I'll finally defeat the Dark Lady for good."
Reeny chuckled, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
"We'll see about that, Master Harry. The Dark Lady is full of surprises."
And with that, they both laughed, knowing that their game would never truly end. It was a game of learning, of growing, and of finding joy in the simplest of things. And for Harry, it was the start of something wonderful.