Chapter 1

In the smallest bedroom of Number 4 Privet sat a small boy, well boy is not quite the right word for him as he will be turning 17 in 10 minutes and by the standards of his world would be of age. But small he was with raven black hair, eyes that would put any emerald to shame hidden behind large black rimmed glasses, and a lightning bolt scar on his forehead which he kept covered as much as possible with his shoulder length hair. His hair no longer resembled a birds nest but fell in gentle waves as it got longer. He usually kept it tied back in a leather thong at the base of his neck. All in all his appearance is that of a small child or a beautiful young woman as much as he hates to hear that. His curves would make any girl sigh with envy. But the scar was what made this young man stand out from his peers; this scar had made him famous much to his chagrin.

He was known as the boy-who-lived or as he liked to call himself the bloody-boy-who-wouldn't-die or the boy-with-too-many-hyphens-in-his-name. This scar was all the evidence that remained of when the killing curse was cast on him when he was a year old. This boy's name was Harry Potter and he could not wait to turn 17 so he would legally be able to cast magic out of school.

Now unlike other young men he also couldn't wait until school started back so he could get away from his relatives house. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was the place he considered home and it was always a relief to be able to go back for both them and him. His uncle had been particularly brutal this summer. He had finally figured out that no one was checking up on Harry and proceeded to try and "beat the magic" out of him and he was once again locked in his room with bars on the window. He was still recovering from the last session as his uncle liked to call them. His wand and trunk were once again locked in the cupboard under the stairs and he was lucky he wasn't as well. Looked like he would once again be staying up all night when he got back to school to finish his summer work.

So Harry sat there watching the clock on his dresser waiting as his tradition for midnight. He was thinking of his friends and if they would remember or even care about his birthday. Things had been strained between them after fifth year and he lost his godfather, Sirius through the veil. He was grateful for Moony though who had stepped in as surrogate godfather and the two had become close. Because without him Harry didn't think he would have made it through his sixth year. His friendship with Ron was almost nonexistent and Hermione tried to go between the two of them but because of her crush on Ron she usually chose him, not that Harry could blame her, he just missed his friends. Well Hermione at least he had come to see that Ron wasn't really that nice of a person and could be incredibly cruel. He also seemed to fluctuate between jealously and he had caught Ron giving an interview about being the best friend of the boy-who-lived. Harry began to realize that all he was to Ron was a name and the fame that went with it. That thought made him incredibly sad.

As the clock changed to 12:00am on July 31st all of a sudden his back arched and he felt incredible pain throughout his entire body. This pain was worse than the cruciatous curse. He just wanted to curl up to ease some of the pain but his body was locked in place as the pain went through him. He didn't even notice when he started to scream or when his uncle came it the room screaming at him for waking the house and proceeded to beat him to try to get him to shut up. He wasn't aware when his godfather burst into the room and blasted his uncle across the room and gently picked him up as he lost consciousness. All he felt was relief as he sank into oblivion. Thankful that the pain ended.

Please let me know what you think and if I should continue the story.