Disclaimer: not mine.
Poor Little Potter
Vernon Dursley stood over the beaten and mangled body of his eleven-year-old nephew, Harry Potter. The small, undernourished child stared up at the only monster capable of putting him into such a state. As it was, it was a miracle the boy was still alive. Well, a miracle or magic.
"You, Boy, will never tell anyone at that freak school you're going off to tomorrow about your punishments," Vernon growled. "If you do, the pain you are in now will seem mild compared to what I'll do. Got it?"
"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry replied weakly.
"Good," Vernon then proceeded the kick the child in the ribs one last time before going up to bed. After he left, Harry stared at the wall of his room and made a silent wish. 'I wish to see Hogwarts and the magical world at least once more before I die.' After that thought, Harry dropped off into the land of unconsciousness.
Unknown to him, his magic heard his wish and granted it. His body was to injured to continue to function alone, so Harry's magic went into overdrive to keep him alive.
The next day, Harry acted perfectly fine. He befriended Ron Weasley and met many people on the Hogwarts Express. That night, he was sorted into Gryffindor and enjoyed the food at the feast. Later on, in the Gryffindor first year boy's dorm, after saying goodnight to all his new friends, Harry Potter went to sleep with a smile on his face. Moments later, his magic released its hold on his body and slowly his heart stopped beating. Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, died from the wounds his muggle uncle inflicted, on his first night in the magical world.
The next morning his body was discovered by the boy who would have been his best friend, Ronald Weasley. His horrified screams echoed through the castle for all to hear.
At lunch, Dumbledore made the announcementof his death, and word traveled. The next morning's headline read "The-Boy-Who-Lived: Dead at the Hands of His Muggle Relatives!" The entire Wizarding World went into a stage of mourning. Years passed and soon he was just another name in a history book, remembered only by those who had known his parents, and Ron Weasley, who would never forget the sight of his mangled body.
The End. The Tragic End.