Disclaimer: Once, and only once, will I say this. I do not own anything in this story. J.K Rowling is the Queen of Harry Potter and I am but a rebel in her following. The songs belong to their respective artists yadda yadda yadda... but 'Half-Nekkid Ferret' belongs to me, YOU GOT THAT?
A/N: Well, this is my third attempt at a fic... I hope I get reviews. This is a prologue, remember that. My next chapters will probably be a thousand words longer, hopefully. Most likely weekly updates. The faster the updates, however, the shorter the chapters.
FEEL FREE TO ASK QUESTIONS.
NO FLAMES. Constructive Criticism is appreciated.
WARNINGS:
Abuse, swearing, smoking
Searching
for Beta; not very mandatory, but nice to have.
Prologue -----
An eight year old boy crawled out from his tiny bedroom under the stairs. Well, it wasn't much of a bedroom, it was more of a storage closet. The place where his relatives stuffed him in, when he was a child. They didn't want the little freak to soil their precious Dudley, no. He was just a worthless freak...
'No! Must not think that, must not think...'
Suddenly the house shook slightly, a fat drunken man thundered down the stairs, purple with rage. The boy shook in fear as he cowered in a corner, waiting for the hit. He was just a worthless, troublesome freak after all...
'NO! I won't think that! I won't be weak! Must be...'
"BOY! Where the fuck do you think you're going?
I thought I made it very clear that you were not allowed out
for one day!" The boy's uncle bellowed harshly, his words slightly
slurred. The uncle stepped toward the small boy and raised his arm.
He swung the thick limb with an dead on hit, the boy's arm easily
broken. The boy fell over in pain, crying for all its worth. The fat
man swung his legs at the small ribcage, and at hearing a few cracks,
smiled evilly and growled, "You're nothing but a weakling aren't
you? Just a freak, a worthless freak. Nobody likes you, I bet your
parents killed themselves because you too much of a freak..."
Nobody likes you...
The boy looked up at the man in fear, pain showing clearly in his eyes.
Everyone left you...
"You have no place in the world, boy. Don't you forget that!"
NOBODY LIKES YOU...
"NO!" The frail boy screamed, his tears overtaking his face, running small stains down his gaunt cheeks.
EVERYONE LEFT YOU...
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT BOY? YOU HONESTLY THINK THAT SOMEWHERE IN THE WORLD SOMEONE ACTUALLY CARES? THAT SOMEONE GIVES A SHIT ABOUT YOU? YOU ARE WRONG, BOY. VERY WRONG INDEED." The man hissed, angrily.
They're all out without you...
"Y- yes, s-sir.."
Having...
The man smacked him on the head and whispered dangerously, "Don't think that your comment will go unpunished boy. Don't you dare." The man then stumbled back up the stairs, but not before getting another beer, leaving the broken child alone in the dark.
The boy quietly scorned himself at the stupidity and crawled back into his cupboard under the stairs. He grabbed the blanket and the small beat up teddy bear that was with him when he was dropped on his relatives' doorstep and quietly sneaked out to the back yard. He looked up and he saw his 'home' of seven years. Who was he kidding? This was no home, no. This was a hell in a perfectly modeled shell of... perfection. The boy shuddered slightly.
Fun.
The boy, Harrison James Evans Potter, was determined to proved his uncle wrong. So he did the only logical thing he could do.
He ran.
A/N: I hope you have enough of a heart to review and save my poor un-encouraged soul, but I beg of you. No flames, please!