Yeah, I have no excuses for this story…

Chapter One: Like, Ouch

Harry Potter woke up in a blood-soaked corner of his room in his abusively abusive relatives house on Number 4, Pubic Drive. Of course this particular corner was blood-soaked because his uncle beat him with a belt for 78992 hours. Harry was taking deep breaths, so deep you could see his ribs through his skin, he also hadn't eaten in seven weeks. Yes, yes, the horror, the horror, he was malnourished by his abusively abusive relatives. Except his cousin, Dudley wasn't abusive, he was actually feeling sorry for Harry because he had to suffer the wrath of his suddenly sadistic homosexual obese alcoholic abusively abusive BDSM fetish-ridden Uncle Vernon.

Anyway, Harry cried in front of a mirror, tried to scrub the dirtiness off of himself in the shower because he felt so damn dirty and everyone loves to use this psychologically correct (or incorrect) cliché of rape victims who have been abusively abused scrubbing the dirtiness off themselves because they feel so damn dirty. Harry turned to the author, his face a mask of confusion. Said author shrugged.

He stepped out of the shower, cried in front of the mirror, then noticed how when his hair was wet it flopped to the side on his forehead in an interesting sort of way. "OMG! My hair is EMO! If I go to school EMO I could show everyone how abusively abused I am!!" Harry picked up his blow dryer and styled his hair in this EMO fashion.

After Harry sported his appeared-out-of-nowhere EMO clothes, he stole his Aunt Petunia's eyeliner and put it on. But his new EMO stylings were quickly interrupted. "It's time for your beaaaating" said abusively abusive Uncle Vernon. This beating lasted the remainder of the summer and the day Harry could go back to his true home (insert sixteen-thousand page 'summary' of Harry's feelings) ……he thought tiredly and depressed-edly as his evanescence CD blared in the background even though fanfiction authors forget that abusively abusive Dursleys wouldn't give Harry a CD player…..

"WE'RE GOING NOW!!!!!!!!!!" Petunia screeched, leaving Harry .008 seconds to get his trunk and broom from the cupboard under the stairs which he was kept under when he was a kid by his abusively abusive relatives and the cupboard is such a vital thing for these dramatic fan fiction writers because they just DO NOT understand how Dumbledore could have addressed the envelopes sent to him 'cupboard under the stairs' and sent him back to his abusively abusive home on Pubic Drive.

Everyone: ………………………what?

Anyway, Harry got in the car with all his crap.

They drove out of Little Wanking to Kings Cocks Station, and Dudley reluctantly kicked Harry out of the car upon request of the suddenly sadistic homosexual obese alcoholic abusively abusive BDSM fetish-ridden Uncle Vernon, better known as SSHOAAABFRUV McGee.

Harry hit the ground rolling. When he finally got himself up, Mrs. Weasley ran up to him, horror written all over her face. "HARRRRRRRY!!!" she screeched, ditching Ron and Ginny because she cared about the BWL more than her own kids, "what happened?"

Tears filled Harry's EMO eyes but he knew he couldn't let them run down his face because god forbid his eyeliner would be smudged. "Nothing happened. Nothing at all."

Mrs. Weasley somehow, after seeing Harry being thrown out of a moving car, didn't believe him.

END OF CHAPTER UNO.