School of witchcraft and rockery?

So this is my first story. It may be slightly sucky, but what can you do? I would love to know what you think, and even if you think it's the worst thing that you have ever read, I would still like to know. Now there is a standard disclaimer:

This story is written by a (moderate) fan of harry potter (at least the first three). This story is not endorsed by J.K. Rowling, or any publishing companies that have the right to print harry potter. I do not make any money from this, and I also like to tickle grapefruits to see if they shrink into oranges. J.K. Rowling holds the rights to harry potter, and allows us to turn it into whatever we want. Bless her.

That is a disclaimer, this is a story.

"-"

Chapter one: this is not what you think

It had been seven years. Seven years of beatings, berating and abuse and Harry hated it. He didn't understand why. Why was he being beaten for doing chores? Why was it, that when Dudley did badly, he was punished? He was sick of it, his eight year old body was weak. He was underfed, undernourished, his body mass made up of skin and bones. His skin was sixty percent scar tissue from where he wasn't looked after properly after being beaten. But his resolve was there. He stood and never backed down, he knew that he wasn't in the wrong, so he knew that eventually something good will come along. This didn't comfort him though, as he lay in his cot under the stairs, crying and wishing for things to get better, for someone to save him. Then he realised that no-one even knows about what is being done to him, so he plans, and on the night of the seventh of June 1989, Harry Potter packed what little amount of clothes he did have, and left the Dursleys, promising to never return.

Meanwhile…

Hogwarts headmasters' office.

In the darkened corner of a very spacious office, an alarm went off, warning the headmaster that the wards surrounding the Dursley's had failed. But this went unnoticed for a long time as the headmaster, one Albus Dumbledore, was in deep REM sleep and never heard the noise. When he did arise from his slumber, he went and checked the devices. He checked them again, frowning. He was certain that the device had to be faulty, for this would mean that the wards had fallen, and harry was gone, he thought. A sense of dread overcame him, and he hurriedly dressed and apparated to Number four, Privet drive. He would be hours too late.

"-"

Harry had walked for what seemed like an eternity, before he reached some sort of big city. By now the sun was starting to rise. He decided to keep on walking, hoping to come across a colony of homeless people that would allow him to stay with them. 'Non-working dirty sods, the lot of 'em.' Vernon would say when they were mentioned. But harry didn't have a choice and to be honest, would prefer to live with homeless than the Dursleys. He found a group of four under a highway, and approached them nervously.

"Excuse me..." he half-whispered nervously, and as he said it, one of them whipped their head towards him, with a glare on his face. When he saw it was a kid he relaxed, slightly.

"What do you want?" he asked gruffly. He was worried about this kid. Generally kids who were homeless weren't timid. They would rob you blind without even blinking. And rich kids who ran away because 'their lives were terrible' and 'their parents were horrible' acted like they were better than the homeless.

"I-I was wondering if I could live with you. You-you see I've ran away from my family because they were mean." He asked nervously, shuffling his feet, but straying from the homeless mans' face. The man thought about it. He could see in the kids' eyes that it wasn't one of the posh kids cases. By the looks of it his family was mean. There was fear reflected in this kids eyes. He pondered for a moment. There was really only one choice.

"Sure. My name's Geoffrey, but my friends" he waved to the assembled crowd. "They call me Geoff."

"Thank you sir."

"-"

Dumbledore sighed. He had gone to the house, and gotten nothing. They knew nothing. He had just disappeared into the night. Not that they necessarily cared at all. They were glad to get rid of 'the freak'. He realised that he had made a mistake. He had wanted the boy to be meek and willing to do what Dumbledore wanted. He knew that he would be very grateful for getting him out of the Dursley's grasp. But they had been too harsh. Now he had no idea where the boy was. The tracking charms that had to be re-cast every two weeks had died the day before. He didn't know what to do. As he sat, he realised that the saviour of the wizarding world, and his weapon, was probably alone and definitely defenseless. He prayed that he would live to eleven, as then the Hogwarts letter will be sent, and he would know whether he is alive or not.

"-"

Three months later.

Harry had been living on the streets for three months now. Three months of hunger, thirst, pain and poor sleeping conditions. So, it generally hadn't improved in that way. But now he had friends. Geoff had introduced him to the others, and they all got along fine. Geoff was an ex-soldier, and took harry under his wing. He showed harry different ways of fighting, and taught him to keep fit. Then things started happening. When harry got hungry, food would somehow be there. When some thugs tried to attack Harry and Geoff with a bat, they all broke their wrists, at the same time. Soon harry was being hailed as their protector. Many called him that, and it caught on. Harry soon changed is name to protector in case that someone linked his real name to the Dursleys.

As harry jogged back to the 'den' where he lived after his morning jog, he noticed a woman struggling with some big box. He walked over to her to see if he could be any help.

"Excuse me miss," the eight year old approached her. His malnourished body may have filled slightly from the new exercise he did, but a seven year old is a seven year old. "Is there any way I could help?"

The woman grunted and set down her box. she looked up and was surprised by what she saw. A dirty, malnourished child who couldn't be taller than her waist was offering to carry her amp. She nodded in surprise and before she could say anything, harry grabbed her amp. 'It looked so much more easier when he has it, almost like it weighed nothing', she thought. Then an idea struck her.

"Say what's your name?" she asked, tucking a stray blonde hair behind her ears, a plan formulating as they walked.

Harry shrugged as he carried the amp, only able to lift it with the help of his magic. The extreme drain was taking a toll on his underaged body, as his core rapidly depleted.

"You look a bit young to be out alone. I'm called Tara." Trying to start a conversation, Tara asked him about where he lived. When a minute passed with no reply, Tara fell silent as well, only speaking to tell him where to go.

it tool them a while, and by the end sweat was pouring off of Harry in droves, concerning Tara. but whenever she went to take the amp back, he would make a quiet grunt and heft it back into his arms, not letting her take it back.

She thought for a moment. This was worrying behaviour.

"-"

As Tara entered their apartment, Harry dropped the amp and collapsed, his magic finally giving up on him. Rushing to his side, Tara shouted for help. Two men groggily wandered into the room, quickly hurrying to Tara when they caught site of the kid. they carried him to one of their rooms and called a paramedic. once done, they turned to Tara with twin glares. she had some explaining to do.

Harry awoke slowly, covered in some sort of soft cover, in a darkened room.across from him, deep in a hushed conversation two strangers and Tara were seated. Tara sat in the middle, flanked by two men. One was very skinny, and had tattoos everywhere. We had wild, long black hair that came down past his shoulder, and was quite tanned. The other was close to the exact opposite. He had no tattoos on show, and his short, cropped red hair meant he looked quite imposing with his muscular build. He ruined that look by winking at harry.

Tara herself was slightly shorter than the men, and had blonde hair that was cropped just above her shoulders. She had hazel eyes, and a few tattoos going up her left arm. They were all wearing jeans and black shirts, with a weird symbol on it.

"You have been out for four hours" Tara started, answering the unasked question on the tip of his lips. She nodded to the man on her left, the red-haired one, and continued. "My name is Tara O'donall. my husband, Scott, and we would like to talk to you" she held up her hand before harry could speak. "We aren't going to hurt you or anything, but we are curious about you."

Harry pondered for a moment. Terrified of them taking them back to the Dursley's, he stayed quiet, hanging his head low. finally he spoke.

"My uncle is my guardian and I kinda ran off. And he is evil." The look shared between them made him feel more comfortable, so he opened up. He told them about the treatment, speaking in short, ragged breaths and letting the words tumble out one after another. He told them about the beatings, the cupboard, the homeless people, the weird events that kept on happening around him. Once he started he couldn't stop until his story ended, leaving him gasping for air and tears streaming down his face. When he had recovered, he looked up at them in worry, expecting anger and annoyance. Instead he saw tears and worry.

"I know who you are now," Scott chuckled to himself as everyone looked at him in confusion "I lived near you for a while. small world. You always looked malnourished and scared. I looked in your documents. Your guardian isn't Vernon or Petunia. They never filled out the legal forms, so you are technically a ward of the county. This gives me an idea."

"-"

Harry was invited to spend a week with them, then a month, then to be the (adopted) child of Tara and Scott. They taught him to play guitar and bass, and found out he had a great singing voice. They would often practice new songs with him. Harry decided to give up his name of protector, but still used it when he was writing privately or when he would go down to visit Geoff. They still hung out, and harry gave him some spare money and food so he could live slightly better. On Harry's birthday, Tara and Scott brought him his own guitar and amp, a 1981 Gibson SG artist and a 1965 Marshall JTM 45. It was the first time his birthday had been celebrated, so they wanted it to be memorable.

"-"

Now this chapter was mainly just setup. I wanted to lay the groundworks for the plot first so i could get a good idea of where this is going. the next chapter will hopefully be more exciting, and will introduce a character from the main story. I also wanted to address (before anyone complains) that Harry DID NOT CREATE FOOD. What he did was have accidental bursts of magic when he was too hungry to control them. His magic responded to the hunger by summoning food to be near him.