I DON'T OWN ANYTHING.

Did you see that? I own nothing of Harry Potter and I most certainly do not make a profit off of this, I don't think I could if I wanted to.

Please review, I'd really like to know how you feel, good or bad. I want to know if I should continue or if I'm just writing for my own entertainment.

Well, that's enough of my blah-blah-blah. Here we go!

The Bright Side

Chapter 1: Abused

"Please, Uncle Vernon," whimpered young Harry Potter, cowering from his whale-sized Uncle. "I-I swear I didn't mean to knock over Dudley's soda," his bright green eyes, looked up at his Uncle's walrus face. "P-please," he cried as the man removed his belt. "I d-didn't even touch the glass! It…it just fell over…it was like magic."

Oh no, Harry knew he had done it now. His eyes filled with tears as the belt struck down on him, hitting his stomach and chest with great force. The water fell down the familiar tracks and Harry only hoped Aunt Petunia would walk in and come up with some excuse of why she needed Vernon to come down to the kitchen. She never tried to stop it, but she would try to distract his Uncle, as if she felt horrible about this but didn't have the courage to speak.

"ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME, BOY?" His torturers face was red, purple, any unnatural color to show his anger. "YOU…WILL NEVER…SHOW THIS…FREAKISHNESS…IN MY…HOUSE…AGAIN!" The belt struck Harry at every pause.

It was always like this. Harry was called a freak for something he did. But he didn't know why. It just happened that way. Odd things happened around him without reason. His teacher's hair turned blue and of course Harry was blamed. Dudley's and his Gang was chasing after Harry, probably to beat him to death and suddenly, WOW, he was on the roof. Nothing ever had a reason. Stuff just happened, like…like magic.

And Harry was always punished for it.

"Harry!" A loud and urgent voice broke throw his drowsy, in-sleep mind. "Harry, wake up!"

The boy flinched. He must have slept in; Uncle Vernon would surely punish him. Why did he have to be off work today? Aunt Petunia would've only punished him with extra chores like garden work or feeding Dudley more than the usual foods so he'd have to wash the dishes over and over again.

"I'm sorry, Uncle," Harry whimpered, slightly curling up as he expected to be hit.

He kept his eyes closed and lowered his sobs. Uncle Vernon whipped him only yesterday, why again today? The beatings were never this often.

"Wake up, Harry," the voice came softer this time yet Harry still recoiled, refusing to open his eyes.

"P-please, Uncle," he knew the tears were yet to come and he'd be beaten just for that. Oh well, he may as well get it all over with.

And so Harry Potter opened his eyes, not as the whimpering young child but as a boy of sixteen. He was The-Boy-Who-Lived, strong enough to outwit Voldemort yet scared by a fat muggle. How pathetic. And the worst of all, his Godfather, Sirius Black, the convicted Mass Murder whom supposedly ratted out his parents to Voldemort (but didn't!) was standing before him with the most worried look possible.

"H-Harry," Sirius stuttered, as if not knowing what to say. "Are you alright?" He asked as he slid the boy's glasses on his pale and reddened face.

The sixteen-year old nodded, not trusting his voice just then. Somehow he could tell his Godfather sensed what his dream was about. Had he been talking in his sleep?

"How long?" The man's face looked livid, horrified that his Godson was abused.

Harry blushed, feeling shameful. "Forever, I guess," he shrugged his shoulders as his voice croaked. "But it did stop for a while when I got my Hogwarts letter," the boy was relieved, finally able to tell someone. He wanted to, he surely did but he felt weak and cowardly. Who would believe him anyway?

Sirius' face paled. "I'll kill them," he growled with clenched teeth. "Why haven't you told anyone this, Harry? Have they done this any since then?"

Harry buried his face in the pillows, glasses still on and nearly breaking, just trying to ignore the question.

"Harry, come on, Harry," whispered Sirius, rubbing his back in attempt to calm him. "You've got to tell me, please." The man frowned when no response came from the child. "How about we go downstairs, we'll have breakfast and then we'll talk later? Just us? Alright?"

He sighed when the answer he wanted didn't come. "Come on, Harry. If you want you can tell Dumbledore or someone other than me. I just want to help you."

Green eyes met his again but they weren't filled with the normal happiness or even anger. It wasn't fear or hurt but it was confusion. It was as if the boy had never known a parent's love before. But he didn't speak.

"Come on, Harry," he practically begged. "I owe this to James. I've got to watch out for you like he would have. No one is here, everyone went out to Diagon Alley but I told them not to wake you because I wanted someone here with me," Sirius put a hand on his shoulder. "If you tell me, it will help you. I can get you out of those filthy," he paused as if thinking better of what he was going to say. "You can come and live with me."

"Really?" His eyes brightened with new hope. Dumbledore had said no before that he needed to stay with his living family because it was the only way he would be safe. But how could he say no when Harry was being abused by his own family?

Suddenly Harry found himself in Sirius' arms and he was crying, not from the dream but these were happy tears because he knew Dumbledore would find a way to let him live with his Godfather. Maybe they could even prove he was innocent and they could be a normal, happy family.

"You're always welcome here, Harry. I'll never turn you away," Sirius comforted him. "But you're going to have to tell us what those filthy beasts did to you."

"Thank you, Sirius," Harry smiled for the first time that morning. "You're my only family."