Disclaimer: I own nothing that has to do with Harry Potter

Harry Potter was currently sitting in his cupboard under the stairs at number four, Privet Drive, listening intently to the creaks and groans of the house. It was prudent to make sure that everyone was asleep before he began his late night practices.

Ten year old Harry was an elemental.

It was not a word young Harry would use for himself at the moment, as he had no knowledge of the magical world, but he had been aware of his strange powers since the age of six. Strange things always happened around Harry, but he always had cast them off as coincidences and after six years of these "coincidences" he was forced to see the truth.

Flashback

Harry woke up willingly early without the banging of his horrid aunt. Even after the five previous years of disappointment, he was still eager to silently celebrate his sixth birthday. He crawled stealthily out of his cupboards and walked quickly to the kitchen with high hopes of a decent breakfast that no one would know about.

These hopes were dashed when he opened the kitchen door to see his uncle grabbing his car keys off the table and gulping down a cup of juice. He turned his head automatically to the noise and sent his nephew a withering glance.

"Good, you're up, boy! Petunia will be waking soon to tidy the house and you," Vernon walked threateningly towards the boy and snarled, "are going to cook a large breakfast without objection. Marge is visiting for a few days and I want everything perfect! Do you understand me boy?"

Harry nodded obediently but was screaming on the inside. It was just his luck that that vile woman would be invited over on his birthday. But then again, his aunt and uncle probably did it on purpose.

So, Harry Potter grudgingly spent the rest of his morning slaving over the stove to create a breakfast he knew only his huge aunt Marge could consume.

It was now dinner time and Harry sat at the table surrounded by the people he rather be miles away from. He continued to grind his teeth at the ongoing jabs his aunt boomed about his no good drunk parents and opted to stare at the thunderstorm raging outside through the clear, sliding back doors. It took all the patients he had to not stick his tongue out at her like his inner six year old wanted. In the environment he grew up in, Harry often felt much older than his peers.

He tuned his ears back into the conversation to find out that Marge had not quit in her insults.

"No good. The both of them! It's a wonder you turned out such an angel, Petunia, with such a bad influence. I expect she was pregnant with this one before she even married that wastrel." She stabbed her fork in Harry's direction.

He felt his anger rising more and more but bit his tongue from making a retort. He knew deep down that his parents were not what these people accused them of.

"I wouldn't know." Replied Petunia. "I refused to keep in contact with such filth." The conversation went on for another ten minutes before anyone noticed Harry's shaking arms. The back door was banging angrily, as if trying to come off, and the rain and lightning seemed to be coming dangerously hard and close to the house.

As his fury mounted to a peak, the back door crashed to the floor and water rushed into the house. Instead of simply watering the floor as the rain should have, all of the water droplets combined in an almost choreographed dance and headed straight for Aunt Marge. When the gush of water hit her, it was like a heavy blow to the head, knocking Marge into the wooden table and then knocking her unconscious.

As the shock wore off from everyone's face, Harry noticed that the previously violent flow of water was now flowing pleasantly next to him in various patterns. He cautiously lifted his hands towards the liquid, and as soon as his hand made contact, the water flooded slowly up his arm, beneath the sleeve of his baggy T-shirt, and seemingly disappeared right above the spot that sheltered his heart.

For the first time that Harry could remember, and though it wasn't for a person, he felt love.

Harry slowly raised his head to see the furious and frightened faces of his "family".

End Flashback

From that moment and on, Harry had instinctually known that he controlled water. He later discovered that he could control the air to. He spent the next two years diligently practicing his skills in the dead of night. It was surprisingly easy to practice as air and water were natural components around them.

The most advanced thing he had taught himself at the age of seven was how to air travel. After his first successful try (which he intelligently planned to only transport to the other corner of his cupboard) he passes out from complete exhaustion. Only after a complete month of practicing was he able to keep the energy he began with.

With this new power, Harry was able to hide plates of food during the day and transport to it at night, transporting both his food and himself back under the stairs. He also stole a cup from the cabinet early on that he continually filled with water. It was his only source of nutrients when he failed to gather any scraps.

At the age of eight, Harry began to realize he was still doing strange things that had nothing to do with his elemental power that he had all but perfected. With his vast imagination still intact he wondered why if he could do other things at his will that could not be easily explained.

He then began exploring his other powers. He experimented with summoning, levitating, charming, transfiguration, and conjuring. Harry often became disappointed in himself when he couldn't accomplish these tasks on first try, not knowing that he was preforming extremely advanced magic. By his current age of ten he could conjure imitations of the toys he saw Dudley playing with. In his tiny cupboard he gave himself a childhood his relatives never would.

Harry finally went to bed at five in the morning while reprimanding himself for staying up so late. His aunt usually woke him up around seven in the summer months.

He had spent the night coloring a picture of what he imagined his parents to look like with paper, crayons, candles, and matches that he had conjured. He wasn't sure if it was what they really looked like, but it didn't matter; just the thought of having a loving family was enough for him.

Harry Potter drifted to sleep and unknowingly received his first letter as it slipped through the mail slot.

Hey guys! This is my second attempt of a story and I will actually try to finish this one b/c though I love Twilight, Harry Potter is much more interesting to write about. It will be a fun challenge.

Though the chances are slim to none, I hope a couple of people will comment on the first few chapters and tell me whether or not I should continue this story! Please comment! Constructive criticism will also be valued greatly. Thanks!