It was a dismal day in Privet Drive. Harry had once again been locked beneath the staircase, in the closet that had once been his bedroom. After what seemed an eternity, Harry became sick of being in the closet. Polishing his wand could only take up so much of his time. Harry wanted to get out into the wide world, ride his broomstick, and maybe make out with Ginny Weasley for a little bit. Erotically.

As he sighed, lying outstretched over his bed, he cursed the fact that Dumbledore apparently had no qualms with letting Harry be abused by the Dursleys, who hadn't fed him in about a week. He whipped out his wand, and starting beating on the door.

"Oi! You stupid, fat Muggles! Can I get something to eat in here?"

He swung his fists threw the bars the Dursleys had erected outside his door. As his clumsy fist swung back and forth, he accidently punched Aunt Petunia in the face.

Harry gasped as she fell backward; the pot of boiled fish she was carrying (obviously to feed Harry with) flew up into the air and landed on her face. She started to scream as the boiling hot fish and pot burnt her face.

"It burns!" she screamed rather redundantly, as the metal and flesh burnt her skin.

"Oh God! Holy shit!" screamed Harry horrified, "I'm so sorry, oh God what have I done?"

Dudley walked into the room, shoving eight hotdogs down his throat simultaneously, in a manner Harry found disturbingly sensual. His eyes widened as he spotted his mother screaming on the floor and Harry, standing through the bars, gripping his wand.

"Yygg thisch thutch!" he tried to scream as the hotdogs slid down his throat. He gagged and choked but to no avail. The sausages forced their way down his throat. He fell to his knees, gagging on the thick sausages.

Harry watched in horror as Dudley became blue in the face. Their eyes interlocked and Harry watched as Dudley took the meat full on in throat. He had no idea whether he should laughing or crying.

Dudley's eyes rolled back and he sank to the floor next to his mother who had finally stopped screaming. Harry noticed with horror, that Dudley was pitching a tent (if you know what I mean).

Harry was speechless. This could not have happened. He literally could not believe that this sort of thing would happen, not in reality. As if things could not get any worse, Uncle Vernon walked into the room. Well, to say he walked in is rather generous; it is more realistic to say that he waddled in.

"What have you done!" he screamed in rage at Harry, frothing from the mouth.

He began to stumble towards Harry when there was a flash of green and he tumbled to the ground. He fell right outside Harry's cell/closet. Harry reached down to feel for a pulse. He felt nothing, but he wasn't sure if that was because his uncle was dead or if he was so fat, the artery was buried too deep beneath his uncle's fat neck.

Harry broke into a nervous sweat and started to shudder. He was starting to flip the fuck out. His relatives had just died, and he was trapped in the closet. He had never sympathised with R. Kelly more.

Suddenly, a cloaked figure barrel rolled unnecessarily through the door that Uncle Vernon had entered through just moments ago. He straightened up, drew out his wand and looked Harry square in the face. In the brief seconds in which this occurred, Harry decided to memorise his appearance so he'd have someone to blame this fiasco on if the wizard cops came after him

Harry noticed the young man had almond shaped eyes with colours Harry thought were the colours of ripe plums. 'So purple', Harry thought to himself, 'he's got purple eyes. That's… weird. '

The man's thick, gold, wavy hair reminded Harry of a cascading waterfall. 'Wait, what?' thought Harry, 'He's got long blonde hair, what's all this shit about waterfalls?'

His face was cloaked with five o'clock shadow, his skin as white as the finest fine china, his ears were prominent, and his thick, gnarled wand was made of poplar and had a core of kraken shell-

'How the hell do I know that? I'm not a wand expert,' thought Harry as he began to notice the young man's rippling abs and conspicuous lack of shirt…

"Hold up!" yelled Harry frustrated, "Stop narrating this so it sounds like I fancy the guy!"

Harry then decided to stop breaking the fourth wall, and ask this guy just who the hell he was anyway.

"Okay I'll stop breaking the fourth wall and ask this guy just who the hell he is anyway."

Harry turned to face the incredibly handsome and suave gentlemen in front of him.

With a sigh, Harry quizzed, "Just who the hell are you anyway, guy?"

The guy gave him a charming smile, showing dazzling teeth that seemed to shine in a subtle yet overt way.

"My name is Clash Radical and I'm here to save you from the Dursleys! Alohamora!"

With an expert flick of his thick wand, the locks to Harry's door exploded.

Harry frowned, "Wait, your name is Clash Radical?"

Clash smiled, "Yes, that's right."

"As in, that's your actual name. The name your parents gave you?"

Clash's eyes began to glisten with tears and he turned away from Harry, "My parents were tragically killed by Voldemort when I was a baby. Just like your parents Harry. We need to work together to avenge them."

Harry, frowned yet again, "Um, sure. Look thanks for getting me out of my cell. We should probably get out of here, my relatives just died and I think Dark Wizards might be behind it."

Clash smiled reassuringly, patronisingly patting Harry on the head, "That was me silly! I killed them with magic. Now grab my hand and I'll apparate us into Hogwarts!"

Harry was aghast.

"You killed them? But- what? Why?"

Clash frowned, "They were mean jerks! They had it coming Harry! Now come on, we need to get out of here."

"But- why? If you're the one who- Wait a minute. You can't even apparate into Hogwarts, that's impossible!" blurted Harry confusedly.

"Shhhhh," whispered Clash as he laid a finger on Harry's lips, "It's going to be alright."

And with that he grabbed Harry's throat, spun and apparated, taking Harry into an uncertain future.

To Be Continued…