Freasian Mantal

Chapter 1

Harry Potter stared out between the bars of his bedroom at Number Four Privet Drive, and thought about this last year. His Godfather was gone. The never coming back kind of gone and Harry didn't know what he was going to do about that. His Uncle Vernon had already started in with the beatings again, and was threatening with worse, but Harry just couldn't find it in him to care. He was so deep in his mind and depression that he didn't even notice as the fat tears started to fall down his face, or the rain that started to suddenly fall outside in the previously clear skies.

He was so tired of losing his loved ones, and of everyone expecting him to defeat the Dark Lord, even if he had successfully killed Voldemort because of Sirius' death. Not to mention Ron, one of his first ever friends, had turned his back on him once again. Just like in Fourth year during the Triwizard Tournament.

Hermione was stuck in the middle. She loved Harry like a brother, but she loved, or at least liked Ron, as more than that.

Harry didn't hold this indecision against her. In fact he didn't expect anyone to really side with him. At this point he simply wanted the pain to end.

Unfortunately for him, if he tried to kill himself, Dumbledore would know. For he had set up several new wards around Number Four, to prevent Harry from running away or offing himself. Harry couldn't leave the land that Number Four sat upon without being dragged back within the wards instantly, and in a very violent and painful manner.

The 'Savior' of the wizarding world didn't look much like a savior at all. In fact he was a thin, waif-like boy. His huge, expressive, and normally bright, emerald green eyes were a dull, lifeless green staring out the window sightlessly. There were several bruises on his face along with some old scars. His entire body was covered with bruises and scars, both old and new. All from his Uncle Vernon and Duddly. Aunt Petunia never raised a hand to him, but then again, Uncle Vernon beat her as well.

No one outside of the house could tell that the 'happy family' within was anything but happy. Harry had once upon a time tried to tell the Weasley's, but Mrs. Weasley had said that it simply couldn't be true. The only two who really believed it was bad were Fred and George, but when they had tried to tell her it was the truth she had told them to stop lying and to go de-gnome the garden.

Instead they had started slipping him more food in his weekly packages. Unfortunately Vernon had seen one close to the start of this summer and had mercilessly snapped Hedwig's neck right in front of Harry. He had gone through the next three weeks in a robotic sort of way. He stopped speaking period, and he had wandlessly warned any owl he had met that they shouldn't come anywhere near him.

He had been able to do things like that for the last two weeks. Talk mind to mind with animals. He was also more successful at gardening. Aunt Petunia's garden looked better than it ever had before. Which of course, had all of her neighbors in a tizzy. The house too looked fantastic. Harry didn't know what was happening, but his Uncle had been on a trip for three weeks and hadn't gotten home until yesterday morning. He had of course assumed that Harry had been at his 'freakish ways' again, and had used his magic to make everything so amazing looking. He had proceeded to beat Harry to within an inch of his life, and then he had locked him in his bedroom for the last two days. For it was now the evening of the next day, and Harry hadn't eaten in three days.

Even though tomorrow was his sixteenth birthday, Harry was not excited. He had thought he would be at the Burrow by now with the Weasley family, but no one had come to get him. He thought to himself that he shouldn't have even bothered to hope that someone could care for his 'freakish' self. He was just a freak anyway. No one could love a freak. No one would want to be friends with a freak like him. That was what Uncle Vernon always said to him anyway.

He of course believed it. He didn't think anyone could really love him, want him, or be friends with him. Why would they want to? He was always getting people killed, or hurt because of his curiosity and his rushing headfirst into things. Because he thought the wrong things. He had thought Snape was trying to steal the Sorcerer's Stone, had gotten Ron and Hermione hurt, and had almost died himself but had instead killed a Professor. Then he had gone into the Chamber of Secrets with Ron and Professor Lockhart had tried to obliviate them, but instead had obliviated himself with Ron's broken wand. Harry had saved Ginny, but almost died again. Then Sirius had escaped from Azkaban in his third year, and had hurt Ron trying to get to Peter Pettigrew who was the true Secret Keeper for his parents. Instead Pettigrew had escaped, Professor Lupin had turned into his werewolf form, Harry and Hermione had saved Sirius and the Hippogriff Buckbeak using a Time-Turner, and they escaped. Harry and Sirius had almost been Kissed by Dementors though. Then in his Fourth year the Triwizard Tournament had been hosted at Hogwarts and even though he was too young, Harry's name had come out of the Goblet and he became a Champion. Harry had come close to dying several times between the Tasks of the Tournament, the fake Professor Moody, watching Cedric die, seeing Voldemort return and then dueling him and barely escaping back to Hogwarts and avoiding death from said fake professor.

This last year had been the worst though. Umbridge and her craziness, plus leading the DA. He had been in Voldemort's mind all year and had though Sirius had been taken. Of course he hadn't, but Harry had gone to the Ministry anyway and Luna, Ron, Hermione, Neville and Ginny had followed him. Sirius hadn't been there, but Death Eaters were. Then the Order came, and Sirius fought beside Harry, but Bellatrix had gotten in a lucky spell and Sirius had gone through the Veil. Which the Ministry said was one way. Harry in his rage had gone after Bellatrix, but Voldemort had appeared and he and Harry had battled it out. Voldemort had tried to possess him, but Harry had defeated him with the power of love.

Now though, Harry had become a prisoner. The Ministry didn't know what to do with him, and Dumbledore wouldn't let him leave Privet Drive. His Uncle was likely to beat him to death before the school year even came close to starting.

"BOY!"

Harry jerked out of his stupor and went to stand next to the right side of the door. He heard his Uncle unlocking the many locks on the door.

As it opened his Uncle sneered at him, and said "Go fix supper Freak. And don't burn any of it." His Uncle turned and waddled back down the stairs. Harry followed slowly after him, pushing the overly large sleeves of the hand me down sweater up his thin arms. He started cooking immediately upon reaching the kitchen and the stove.

He was just pulling the final pot off the burner and reaching to turn it off, when Dudley came up behind him and held his forearm down on the burner. Tears sprung into Harry's eyes and he bit his lower lip so he wouldn't make any noises. He bit it so hard that he started to bleed. Only when his Uncle could smell burning flesh did he yell at Dudley to 'let the freak go so he could bring them supper.' Duddly did so with a smirk on his face. Harry quickly put the food on the table and retreated to the farthest corner of the kitchen.

Once they were finished eating and had waddled to the sofa to watch the telly, Petunia helped Harry to put the few left overs up, since Vernon had said that Harry wasn't allowed any food for a week for using his 'freakishness.' They then washed the dishes, and Petunia locked him back in his bedroom. A little while later though she slipped a glass of water, burn salve, and some pain medicine into his room through the cat flap in the door. Harry was thankful for small mercies. He took the pills and applied the salve. He hadn't been able to steal any pain potions since he had been rushed straight to Privet Drive after the battle at the Ministry.

Harry was once again standing at the window staring outside. He looked at the clock in his room that read 11:45. The four and five were hard to read since the clock had been thrown against the wall by Dudley when he couldn't figure out how to make it work. Harry sighed and thought to himself 'fifteen minutes until my sixteenth birthday. It's just another year of torture to come.' Harry lay down on his bare mattress on the floor. He watched the clock change numbers as the minutes went by. Soon it read 11:58.

Two minutes. Harry started to feel a weird tingling in his bones.

One minute. The tingling was starting to hurt now.

Midnight. Harry's body arched up off of the bed as it felt like his whole body caught fire. His bones felt like they were stretching, and he opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out. He felt as if his skin was stretching in impossible ways. The pain was unimaginable even one of his Uncle's most enraged beatings wasn't even half as painful as this pain was. Even five minutes under the Cruciatus wasn't as painful. He felt blood pouring out of his nose, and it felt like his fingers were turning into claws. His back hurt the most though, and suddenly he felt blood under his back, and when he sat up he felt something sprout out of his back. All he could recognize was pain though, and he soon passed out from it.