The days after Harry's unsettling encounter in the garden seemed to stretch on forever, each one filled with an unspoken tension that gnawed at him from the inside. The feeling that something was coming—something he wasn't yet ready for—hung in the air like a storm on the horizon, but no one else seemed to notice. Not the Dursleys, not Dudley, who continued to grow more obnoxious by the day, not even the house itself, which seemed oddly still, like the calm before the inevitable tempest.
The days were growing warmer, and though Harry usually found some solace in the heat, the sun's rays now seemed to press down on him with a heavy, suffocating weight. He found himself retreating to the back of the garden more and more, trying to escape the stifling atmosphere of the house, where every word, every glance, seemed loaded with meaning, with unspoken fear.
That afternoon, after he had finished cleaning the garden shed, Harry lingered by the back fence, feeling the heat radiating off the wood. He hadn't realized how deep into the garden he had wandered until he noticed the old oak tree at the far corner—its branches twisted like fingers reaching out toward him, the ground beneath it unnaturally barren. There was a coldness about that spot, something that tugged at him like an invisible thread. The grass around it was withered, as though it had been scorched by something unseen.
For a moment, he hesitated. The strange pull he had been feeling over the past few weeks seemed to emanate from that very tree, and something about it called to him.
He stepped closer, his heart quickening with each step. As he neared the base of the tree, he noticed something odd—something he hadn't seen before. At the foot of the trunk was a small, hidden alcove, the entrance partially obscured by the twisted roots. A sense of foreboding hung in the air, but Harry felt an undeniable need to investigate. The voice he had heard in his mind—the one that whispered of his destiny—seemed to hum louder in his ears.
Without thinking, Harry crouched down and pulled aside the roots, revealing a narrow opening. It led into the earth, the dark mouth of it seeming to beckon him with every passing second. The air around the entrance smelled of damp earth and something sharper, something metallic.
He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his decision press down on him like an invisible force.
The darkness inside seemed to stretch endlessly, far deeper than any hole in the earth should go. He swallowed his fear, his curiosity outweighing any lingering doubt. As he crawled inside, the earth around him seemed to tighten, as though the hole was alive, watching him, waiting for him to make a move.
For a moment, there was only silence—complete and total silence. Then, a voice.
"It is time."
The words were not spoken aloud, but seemed to come from everywhere, from the very earth beneath him, from the shadows, from the space between the stars. Harry froze, his breath catching in his throat.
The voice continued, softer this time, almost tender. "You have been chosen. You are not just a child. Not just a boy lost in the dark. You are something greater. Something older. And the time to remember is coming."
The walls of the narrow tunnel seemed to close in on him, the air heavy with the promise of something vast and terrifying. The further he crawled, the more the voice filled his mind, like a song he couldn't escape, like a spell he couldn't break.
Harry didn't know how much time had passed when he finally emerged into a large underground chamber. The space seemed impossibly vast, stretching out in all directions. The air was cool, and the smell of old stone and dampness filled his nose. Strange, faint markings covered the walls—symbols and runes that seemed ancient, unfamiliar, but oddly... familiar.
He could almost feel the history of the place in his bones.
And then, in the center of the room, he saw it.
An old, weathered pedestal stood at the heart of the chamber, and atop it, glowing faintly in the dim light, was a small, intricately carved stone. It was nothing remarkable at first glance—just an old piece of carved rock—but Harry couldn't look away. The feeling of familiarity grew stronger, a connection he couldn't explain but felt deep in his gut.
The voice spoke again, its presence now wrapped around him like a cloak.
"Touch it."
Harry hesitated, his hand hovering above the stone. It felt like the entire room was watching him, holding its breath, waiting. The pulse of power in the air was tangible, like static before a storm, and for a moment, Harry thought he might lose himself in it.
But then, without thinking, his fingers brushed against the stone.
In an instant, the chamber exploded with light.
Harry fell back, blinded by the intensity of the glow. He stumbled, his head spinning, and for a split second, he thought he might fall into the abyss of the underground chamber. But before he could react, the light receded as quickly as it had appeared, leaving him gasping on the cold stone floor.
When he managed to sit up, the room had changed. The air was still heavy, but the energy that had filled it before had dissipated, leaving only a lingering sense of power. And yet, something had shifted within him.
He looked down at his hands, trembling, and felt an overwhelming sensation of... recognition. He had touched the stone, but something far more significant had happened. Something had been unlocked inside him—something old, something powerful.
And then, the voice spoke again, clearer than ever.
"You have begun the journey. The road is long, and the darkness will test you. But you are ready, Harry. You are ready to know the truth."
The walls around him seemed to close in once again, the whispers growing louder. The question that had haunted him for years suddenly seemed less important. The questions of why he was here, why the Dursleys feared him, why the darkness seemed to call to him—they all felt like pieces of a larger puzzle. And that puzzle was only just beginning to unfold.
Harry crawled back through the tunnel, feeling the weight of what had just happened. He could sense it—the changes within him. The power was still there, coiling beneath his skin like a beast that had just awakened. He wasn't the same boy who had stepped into the garden just hours ago. The connection to the stone had done something to him, something irreversible.
When he finally emerged from the hole and stood under the oak tree once again, the sun had begun to set, casting long shadows over the garden. The pull in his chest was still there, but it felt stronger now, deeper. The journey had truly begun.
But Harry wasn't ready to face the full truth. Not yet. He couldn't bear to know everything all at once. The voice had told him he was ready to know the truth—but Harry was unsure if he was ready to face what that truth would be.
As he walked back toward the house, he could still feel the stone's lingering touch, an echo in the back of his mind. There was no turning back now.
The world was changing, and Harry had no choice but to follow it wherever it would lead.