If you’re reading this you know the epic tale of Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. The chosen one. Our savior, our protector. A tale many young witches and wizards now believe a myth, along with the Dark Lord he is famous for defeating and the Light Lord who taught him the power of love and friendship. But my whole life I, V. T. Skeeter, have seen holes in this story. Dear readers, I have investigated a plot expecting to find a few fibs or exaggerations, but what I have found was far darker (though
in light of considering what I have discovered this may be the wrong term) and more nefarious than what anyone could have suspected.
Let’s start with the beginning. I find that tends to make the most sense. The beginning. . . now which one to start with. Let us begin with in linear order. Albus Dumbledore. His story of childhood is the blurriest of the five we will follow. Maybe because it happened so long ago and more of the pieces I so painstakingly put together were shuffled by a combination of time, memory loss, and death.
Imagine this. A beautiful morning in July, 1881. The sky is blue and the sun is shining on the small town of Mold-on-the-Wold. A baby has just been born and given the tediously long name of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Many of you are probably familiar from there of what happened next from his brother, who’s story was printed by The Daily Prophet not long after the Battle of Hogwarts, with the urging of the boy who lived himself. I won’t dispute anything that was stated in this article, as all evidence I found points to it being factual, if incomplete, which I would argue makes it even more dangerous because an incomplete truth is so easy to manipulate and bend. The best lies are based on truth, after all.