Well I just see so many of them that I can't help but think of one myself! ^^ Yes, everyone. This is a story where Harry has a brother and his brother is believed to be the Boy-Who-Lived because Dumbledore said so. Morons. Anyway, warnings and summary are down below and I hope everyone enjoys the story. I just have the need to remind people of one thing…
IF YOU DO NOT LIKE SLASH/YAOI/BOY LOVE, THEN EITHER EXIT THE WINDOW OR CLICK THE BACK BUTTON! I WILL NOT STAND PEOPLE THAT LEAVE CRUEL REVIEWS JUST BECAUSE THEY DID NOT LIKE THE STORY WHEN IT WASN'T EVEN A REQUIREMENT TO READ IT!
My fellow authors, I am sure you all understand. I am sure everyone here has had that one review saying your story sucked and that they hated it. Am I right? And I'm sure you all feel the same way as me. No one makes others read these stories so if you do not like the story, leave it and don't bother reviewing.
Reviewers that do that only bring an author down and only makes them depressed and they no longer write, which makes mobs of angry readers that do like the story come after you.
Anyway, sorry about that but I just wanna make it clear.
Warnings: underage sex (Harry is 15-16 yrs old), yaoi (gay love), swearing, nudity, mentioned abuse, mentioned rape, prostitution of own choice, character bashing, Dark!Whore!Harry, and if I think of others, I shall write them down.
Summary: My name is Leon Raven Baye, formerly Harry Potter, a young wizard that wasn't anything special in the eyes of the world because my twin brother was believed to be the Boy-Who-Lived. I was left by my own parents and abused by my uncle then left for dead in an alley way before being found by my only father figure when I was only eight years old. Now by my own choice, I work for him since I have no one else.
My name is Damien, a regular man in a business that involved clubbing and young prostitutes that were either abandoned, ran away, or orphaned. I gave them food, clothing, and shelter. I protect them from those that want to hurt them and they just kept the customers happy. I was the one who found a green-eyed, raven-haired boy bleeding to death in an alleyway and saved his life. He works for me of his own free will. And I will not let anyone take him from me, not even the 'family' that abandoned him.
Disclaimer: I own Damien and Harry's other 'co-workers', but not Harry Potter himself or any of the Harry Potter characters. I'm not even sure if I should say I own his brother or not since a lot of people made up his brother…screw it, I own his brother.
"Hey, Damien?" a small boy with dirty blonde hair and gray eyes called out softly, grabbing the man's hand. The boy was dressed in a ragged tan shirt and a pair of shorts that reached his shins, but had holes on the knees. "That man has something."
Damien looked over at what the child next to him was looking at. Damien had short-cropped russet hair and dark blue eyes that had a ring of brown around the pupil. There was a tattoo of a black dragon on his exposed shoulder with that tail trailing down his arm and the head of the dragon on his neck. He was dressed in a black wife-beater with his dark red jacket tossed over his other shoulder and a pair of dark blue jeans. Dangling from his lips was a cigarette that was already burned half-way.
The man that the small child pointed to was a large, beefy man with little-to-no neck dressed in a regular gray suit that looked like it was straining against his fat. The man had a thin blanket wrapped around something in his hand, stained red. Blood red. Damien's eyes narrowed.
"Andy, go over to that dumpster and stay there until I call you," he told the boy he just found.
"Okay," Andy said, letting go of Damien's hand to run over to the dumpster that was indicated.
The man smirked at the boy. He just found Andy yesterday and the boy wouldn't let go of him. He actually found the lad sleeping in a cardboard box under the bridge. Born homeless and his homeless mother died about a month ago. Andy had no one.
And whoever was wrapped up in that bloody blanket most likely had no one as well. He waited until the man dropped the body, said "Good riddance" in a malicious way, then went back to the car that groaned under the fat man's weight before driving off. Once he was gone, Damien ran over and kneeled next to the body. It could have been an animal wrapped up, but the way the limp figure wrapped up in the blanket hung when it was carried made him think otherwise.
Inhaling deeply and ignoring the assault of the blood on his nose, he reached up and carefully peeled back the blanket to reveal the body. His breath hitched in his throat as his eyes grew wide. The cigarette fell from his lips and landed in a small puddle of water.
A small boy with a messy mop of black hair stained with drying blood. Probably no older than seven or eight. There were cuts all over his arms, legs, and anywhere that wasn't his face. His clothes were much too large and thin on his tiny, frail body. He was practically nothing but skin and bones. He probably had a few fractures, maybe broken, ribs of the unusual shape of his ribcage was anything to go by. He watched the child's chest, hoping to see him take a breath, even a small one.
Nothing. No movement.
Damien's eyes closed. Looks like he would have to go to Chief Charles about a murdered child and tell the police all he can. As his hand went over the body's mouth, he felt a soft puff of air hit his wrist and looked down at the body with a shocked expression. He held his hand over the small mouth, hoping it wasn't his imagination. Another soft exhale and he noticed a pained jerk of his chest.
"Andy!" he called out. This boy was still breathing, but it was weak and shallow. And judging from the pains his chest was showing, his lungs were probably damaged as well. The dirty-blonde boy ran over before Damien handed him his cell. "Call Chief Charles and tell him our location. He can get here faster than an ambulance since he's closer. And if he takes us to the hospital, we won't have to worry about other cops stopping us."
Andy nodded then started dialing the number for the chief of police while Damien tore the blanket up and wrapped it around heavily bleeding wounds the unconscious boy had on him. When he wrapped the boy up enough to slow the bleeding without hurting the boy anymore than he already was, Damien wrapped the nearly-dead boy in his jacket and picked him up.
A police car pulled up behind them before the chief told them to hurry up. Andy climbed into the front seat while Damien went into the backseat with the boy in his lap. Chief Charles, a middle-aged man with graying black hair and brown eyes, turned to look at the body and immediately started driving off as fast as the car would go, starting his sirens to let everyone on the road know it was an emergency.
Damien kept his hands on the boy's chest, feeling his slow heartbeat and hoping it didn't stop. There were a couple of close calls within the ten minutes it took to get to the hospital going at the speed of 110 MPH, but the boy was still alive. Barely.
Hospital staff took the boy from his arms as soon as he got out of the car then rushed inside to try and save his life. Chief Charles sighed heavily, removing his hat and running a hand through his hair. "Damien, I need you to tell me what happened," he said.
"I was planning on it," Damien told him.
"You going to take him in if he makes it?" the chief asked.
"Don't I always take them in?" he replied with his own question.
Chief Charles nodded his head. Damien wasn't exactly an ideal foster parent, but he did take care of the little ones in his care. He saved them from abusive households or from lives on the streets. He saved them from death many times before. Many of the children in his care stayed with him well into their late teenage years. He fed them, clothed them, gave them a home, and even paid for their education for every one of them. Many would wonder how he was able to afford such things, and as Chief of Police, he should have stopped it when he knew.
But there was a reason he didn't. Damien knew how to take care of the children. He had them since they were young and if the chief separated them from Damien, who knew what would happen. Many of the children in his care were very special cases, though none were as bad as this one.
Damien owned an entire apartment building with the bottom floor build like a nightclub while all the apartments were the homes to each of the children. He allowed the mid-to-late teenagers in his care have sex with older men for money. It didn't start out like that. It was more of a hotel with the children in his care as the staff at first, then things changed. He didn't force them into being what they are and he had age limitations. No one under 15 was allowed to have sex, and they cannot be forced into having sex. If they did not want to have sex, then leave them alone. Those were the main rules at the place.
Being prostitutes was their own choice. But Damien did do what he was supposed to do. He still kept them fed, he gave them all kinds of clothes from sexy to formal. He never hurt any of the children in his care and whenever someone did hurt one of the kids, Damien protected them and fought back with a vengeance. If they needed hospitalization for any reason, he brought them in straight away.
For the exception of the prostitution, Damien was an ideal caretaker. If he could, Chief Charles would cut that business down quickly, but if he did, Damien wouldn't be able to afford taking care of the children or anything else that was needed. No job other that what was happening now would pay him enough to take care of everyone.
"Alright then," Chief Charles said with a low sigh. "Let's sit and you tell me what you know."
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The entire night and half the morning later, the doctor came out to find Damien sleeping on the couch with little Andy curled up into his chest. He gently cleared his throat, which was enough to wake Damien up, but not enough for Andy. He gently got up and placed Andy against the back cushions of the couch to sleep a little longer.
"We managed to get him stabilized," the doctor started. "And personally, I'm surprise he was still alive when you found him."
"What's the damage, Jerry?" Damien asked after a low yawn.
Jerry, the only doctor that Damien trusted with his children, was in his late-thirties, early-forties with blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He and Damien were about the same height (6'3") only more lean than the other man. He was dressed as any other doctor, blue scrubs and a white overcoat with his name on it, right below his title as pediatrician.
He shook his head slowly before sitting down in the chair across from Damien. "Every single one of his cuts needed ten or more stitches because of their length, their location, or their depth," he started. "The worst cut he has…actually, I wouldn't call it a cut. I would call it some sick bastard's unstable mind at play. He has the word 'FREAK' carved into his back between his shoulder blades, deep into his muscle tissue. He is going to carry that scar for the rest of his life."
Damien growled low in his throat.
"He has a few fractures in his skull, likely caused from a blunt object. There are broken bones in his hands, his left arm is broken as well as his right leg, the bruise suggested by being stomped on but I don't know anything human sized with a weight that can break an arm like that."
"The man who ditched him to die in an alleyway could have easily been 300 pounds," Damien commented.
Jerry sighed heavily. "He has three broken ribs," he continued. "And we had to reset four others. They looked to have been broken before, but were never set so they did not heal properly. His broken ribs just barely missed his lung. It left a small cut on his lung, but we managed to stitch that up. We have him hooked onto an oxygen tank for now to help him breath better and had to give him a blood transfusion. Since we don't know his type, we had to give him O positive. He looked a little less pale, so we know his body won't reject it." The doctor swallowed heavily.
Damien noticed the slight pause. "What is it?" he asked.
Jerry shook his head before running a hand through his hair. "The kid is eight years old, heavily malnourished, and dangerously underweight by about twenty-five to thirty pounds. We could just classify this as a 'child abuse and neglect' case and an 'attempted child murder', but that wouldn't be all. His rectum was torn and showed evidence of rape."
The other man cursed under his breath and tilted his head back, dropping his hand over his eyes. He knew it would be bad, but not that bad.
"He woke up for a couple minutes after we got him into a room. He was awake long enough for us to ask him his name. He said his name was Harry Potter, but he was always called 'Boy' or 'Freak'."
"I see that man that did this to him again, I am going to kill him," Damien declared.
"Won't do you any good, Damien," the doctor stated. "You got a bunch of kids to look after now, and it looks like you got a new one to look after. Or would you be taking in two?"
"Two," Damien replied. "No foster home or orphanage will know how to deal with a kid that went through everything he did."
"You think you can?" Jerry asked with a raised eyebrow.
"I can try," Damien replied with a sigh.
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After two and a half weeks of Harry recovering in the hospital and filling out paperwork at the station to have custody over the child, Damien was able to bring Harry home. The boy had a wheelchair since his bones were broken and he could not use crutches, but it was okay. The building had a ramp and the elevators were easy to get into with a wheelchair.
Damien lived on the fifth floor, the top. He let Harry take the room next to his since he was the one that was going to take care of the fragile boy. What amazed him was that no matter how hurt Harry was, the next morning he was trying to get downstairs. When Damien caught him and asked what he was going, all Harry said was that he was going to make breakfast.
"You don't need to make breakfast for everyone," Damien commented with a smirk. "Look, Harry. I know what kind of life you came from. All these injuries and the habits you have that the doctor told me you have, it's pretty obvious." He reached up and petted the side of Harry's head, trying to flatten his hair. "This is your new home, a new life for you. You don't need to do whatever you had to do in that old hellhole. I won't hurt you. I won't let anyone hurt you. I promise."
Harry shaking inhaled before breaking down crying and leaning into Damien's chest. Damien just held onto him, rubbing gentle circles on the boy's back and whispering soothing into the child's ear. Three words was all Harry needed before letting himself fall asleep in Damien's arms.
"You're safe here."
Though hesitantly, Harry eventually got associated with the other children his age, older, younger, and the teenagers. He started to view them all as siblings, but was still frightened of adults. Damien, Doctor Jerry, and Chief Charles were the only adults he trusted, but Damien expected that. After what he had been through, it actually surprised him that Harry trusted him and the two others.
Harry trusted those three for reasons. Doctor Jerry was a nice man, saw him every week to check over his healing progress. He kept giving him tasty vitamins that tasted like fruits and was very gentle when changing his bandages. He never made a commented other than how well they were looking. He never asked about the carving on his back or how he got the cuts and bruises. He didn't ask how he got anything.
Chief Charles kept him company when Damien was gone for a while. He was very funny and often told him stories about criminals he caught, especially ones with burglars that were being stupid about their crimes. At first, he did try to ask him about his injuries, but when Harry said nothing, he gave up after a while.
Damien himself was the best adult Harry ever met. He made sure he ate plenty, but didn't push him to eat more than he can. He also sat there to make sure he ate until he was full. He also bought Harry all kinds of clothes that would fit him. And whenever Harry did something that would result in a beating at the Dursleys, Damien just laughed it off and said he didn't 'like that object anyway' or that Harry was 'too young to know how to cook properly so of course it would burn a little' or even that the whole place 'doesn't need to be THAT clean'.
Whenever Harry had nightmares, Damien didn't care if he went to his bed and curled up with him. The man just held him until he fell asleep and let him stay for the night. Sometimes, Harry wouldn't wake up from a nightmare and Damien always came into his room and woke him up before letting Harry cry on him.
Harry's bones did heal right and his injuries faded into scars. The one that stood out the most was the 'FREAK' scar on his back, but when he grew out his hair, it eventually covered that up. He couldn't hide his other scars as well as that one, though. And he believed that all his scars made him useless and unattractive.
He had been there for two years now and from his third month, he realized what half of the teens were doing. The other half that didn't do that had jobs at other places like fast food restaurants or at supermarkets. The other children that were younger than 15 worked as clean-up or as waiters and waitresses or cooks and bartenders. Or they just stayed in their rooms and out of sight so the older men downstairs wouldn't get any ideas.
Once, he asked Damien if he was expected to do what the other teenagers did. Damien looked down at him with wide eyes. The other children often asked him that, but it wasn't until they were twelve or thirteen. Hearing it from a ten-year-old was different. Most of the time, the ten-year-olds didn't understand what was going on.
"No, Harry," Damien chuckled, sitting behind his desk. "You are not expected to have sex like the other teenagers when you get older. That is entirely your choice. They chose to do this, so they do it. The others that chose otherwise got jobs elsewhere. It's up to you whether you work like them or work somewhere else, I won't judge you on it." He looked like he wanted to say more, but one of the younger boys rushed in and said one of the customers was trying to rape Krista, a 16-year-old girl that chose to work at a convenience store rather than as a prostitute.
Not once during the first two years of living in that building has Harry ever seen Damien act like that. He tore the man off of the crying Krista and started to fight against him while the other teens comforted the girl. Damien won and threw the man out, telling him that if he ever came back or touched any one of his kids again, he would call the police on him. They never did see that man again.
When Harry was eleven and started to work voluntarily as one of the clean-up crew, he met a man with silver hair and amber eyes. He remembered the man calling him a 'wizard pup' and when he told Damien about it, he just shrugged and said don't worry about it. He never really did until he saw Harry doing things when the boy thought no one was around. It amazed him.
With just a flick of his wrist, Harry could make brooms sweep by themselves and dusters dust without a hand on the handle. A flick of his finger and he could light the candles in the hallway or repair a crack in the wall or on the floor. Harry still did things by himself, such as laundry and making beds, but it got Damien thinking about that man from before.
What surprised him even more was that the man was a regular customer. He came in about once a week to indulge himself in alcohol and one of the older teens. Damien took him away from the crowd to talk privately.
"What?" the man let out an animalistic growl. "I wasn't doing anything wrong."
"I know," Damien said. "I just wanna ask you something. You called one of the kids here a 'wizard pup'. Mind explaining?"
"You're just a Muggle," the man chuckled. "You won't accept it."
Ignoring the unusual word, Damien continued. "The boy you called that has been doing some things that I can't explain. He makes things move by themselves or fixes things with just a flick of his hand."
"You got a strong one here then," the man commented. "Wandless magic, only the powerful ones can do it without much trouble. And you said he's just a boy? Impressive."
"Magic?" Damien repeat. "Like 'Hocus Pocus, here's a rabbit out of my hat'?"
The man blinked at him before letting out a barking laughter. "Well, you're an interesting Muggle," he stated. "So I guess I can help you out a little bit. That boy is a wizard and yes, they do exist. You Muggles don't know about them, though. He should go to a school to teach him how to control his magic eventually. How old is he?"
"Eleven," he replied.
"No letter then?" the man said in a confused tone. "Hm, probably can't track him. But he has to be a pureblood to have powerful wandless abilities like that. It doesn't make sense, but I don't care. I stay out of wizarding business, most of the time."
"You make it sound like you aren't one yourself, yet you know about it," Damien pointed out with furrowed eyebrows.
"That's because I'm a werewolf," the silver-haired man said with a grin before going back into the crowd. He still heard Damien's threat, though.
"Werewolf or not, hurt one of my kids and your fur will be my new throw rug."
Whatever letter that 'werewolf' was talking about still never arrived, and Harry changing his name a week later wasn't much help with it either. "You wanna what?" Damien asked him one day.
"I don't like my name," Harry told him. "It reminds me of too much. If this is supposed to be my new life, like you said three years ago, I should have a new name."
Damien stared at the ceiling for a moment and nodded once at the logic. "Alright, what do you want your new name to be?" he asked.
Harry let out a low hum, placing a finger on his chin before grinning brightly. "Leon Raven Baye!"
So Harry has his new name now and he will be called by that name from the third chapter to the end. This chapter was a background story for Leon (Harry) and next chapter will be the story of the Potter family from when Voldemort attacks to a few years into Hogwarts.
Anyway, hope everyone enjoyed the chapter! ^^ Good reviews make me happy while bad reviews make me angry and force me to delete them. But no reviews make me cry. Q_Q
So plz review! And honestly, I expected this to be longer…o well, still over 4000 words.
