Summary:
Harry James Potter was not an ordinary child, nor did he have an ordinary life.
Constant abuse by his relatives and ruthless oppression of his "freakiness" – as they would call it – rendered the young Potter emotionally unstable and physically malnourished, amongst other things. He had no friends, his only family hated him for what he was, spat at his excuses for "freakiness" and showed only contempt when he got good grades at his school. Needless to say, Harry Potter did not have a very good life.
Unbeknownst to him, beings all over Britain meet in shady pubs and bright alleys, in houses and mansions, holding toasts and parties at his wake since he was one year old.
Little did Harry Potter know that he was special, that strangers knew more about his life than anyone else, and celebrated each time Halloween came to pass.
Little did they know that they themselves were deceived by gods, cruel gods who sought to bring colour to an otherwise mundane world (in their immortal eyes). Harry James Potter was not what he seemed, the gods made sure of that, and so begins the story of Harry Potter, the Chosen One.
Little did they know that Harry Potter was more special than he seemed, as he found out during his 9th year at the Dursleys. Little did they know that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, was a daemon…
Off in the horizon, one can hear the laughter of thirsting gods.
Hi Everyone! I'm Creleuth – and before you ask, no, I did not steal this name or anything in this story, Games Workshop and J.K. Rowling would have my head otherwise.
This is my first story so forgive me for inexperience, I will be regularly updating this (possibly weekly) but I may have problems because of college so don't get nasty if I can't update as fast.
Oh, and if you didn't get the reference at the end, this is a crossover fanfic with Warhammer 40k.
Cheers!