This is a response to the Freaks Like Us challenge written by Gabriel Herrol. When I'm focusing on Harry it will be from his POV, however at other times I'll use 3rd person. Hope you all enjoy the fic and please understand that this is only my third published work. I really want you all to be honest about how you feel so that I can improve whatever mistakes I make.
My whole life I have been called three things. My teachers were kind enough to call me by Harry, my relatives on the other hand only called me Boy or Freak. I'm honestly happy that they don't call me by my name because they don't deserve to say it. The whole country probably believes that I am a troubled child that gives them nothing but despair despite their kind and loving attempts to bring me into their family. They really are the perfect example of wolves in sheep's' clothing because the only thing that they have ever shown me is pain and orders.
I'm sure that what they've done to me qualifies as abuse but I can't find an adult that is willing to listen to me. It's like there's something that makes it impossible for people to notice the nine inch scars on my back. It's annoying as hell to survive but I somehow manage. As long as I keep my head down and my mouth shut I can avoid the worst of the beatings. I just wish that someone could understand what it was like for me to live here. They wouldn't have to break me out or anything like that; I'd only need a friend to talk to. Thanks to Dudley that will never happen. I guess I'm just destined to be alone the rest of my life, a lonely freak that lives in a small cupboard under the stairs with only spiders to keep him company.
"Don't slack off you lousy freak." Vernon yelled and slapped the back of my leg with his belt. My leg buckled but I didn't fall and resumed making the table. His bitch of a sister would be coming to visit him and his walrus of a son. I grit my teeth and struggled not to talk back to him. I may want to escape this hellish life but I can't take him on in a fight. I don't even have the energy to outrun him because of the malnutrition that I've been forced through. "If you leave one thing out of place then you will not be eating this week do you understand me?" I gave a small nod and placed the wine in a bowl of ice.
Everything looked perfect in my eyes so I left the table and started to dust off the shelves and pictures. It wouldn't be too hard of a task if I had eaten in the last three days but my relatives' kindness had all but disappeared when I said my wounds healed like magic. I knew better than to say something like that in front of them. I felt like I was going to pass out in any minute but I had to keep moving so that I could get something to eat, even if it was just the crust from a slice of bread. That would be enough for now.
However, fate, as always, was not on my side. The bitch pulled in with her dog and walked up to the door like she owned the place. She was as fat and horrendous as her oaf of a brother and let me assure everyone that no decent person would cry over her death. "Vernon it is so wonderful to see you again, and look at Dudley oh you've grown so much since the last time I saw you. You also seem to be keeping the house in shape Petunia; I'm impressed seeing as how you have that thing living with you. Honestly I don't see why you don't toss it into the street." She said while giving me a glare that most would save for the lowest of criminals. Of course I probably was the lowest in her eyes. After all, how dare I show up on their doorstep as a baby and demand that they take care of me.
I sighed and prepared myself for whatever the bitch said about me or my parents. It wasn't long before they were all sitting at the table and I was pouring their wine like some slave or butler. They started off simple talking about their respective jobs and how people didn't treat them with the respect they deserve. It made me sick that they thought they deserved respect from anyone. After everything they had done to me the best they deserved was hell. Thankfully I was able to reel in my temper and stay silent. That came to an end when they talked about my parents.
I may not have known them but there is one thing that I do remember, just one. A voice called out to me. You are loved. No matter what happens you are loved more than anyone else. You are loved. You are loved. It was a woman's voice. A voice that I know is familiar and I'm sure it was my mother's. She may have been a freak. She may have been an alcoholic and a drug addict but I knew for a fact that whatever she was she loved me. And if she was with my father when he died I'm sure she loved him to.
"Shut up. You have no right to talk about my parents." It came out quietly like a falling leaf but they caught it. The rage in their eyes was definite proof that they heard what I said.
"What did you just say boy?" I knew from the tone of his voice that I had dug my grave but I didn't care. What's the difference between a 3ft grave and a 6ft one?
"I said to shut up. My mother loved me and if she's really a freak . . . if I'm really a freak. I'd rather die a freak than be a monster like you." The house shook as I spoke and for one moment in my life I saw them with fear in their eyes. I'm sure that they realized what they had turned me into at that very moment. If I had the power they would be dead. However, the fear quickly diminished and Vernon hit me in the face. It stung but I grit my teeth and stood with my eyes fixed on his. I spat out the blood that was filling my mouth and glared. Blow after blow after blow after blow. I lost count of the number of times he hit me. I'm positive that my face looked bloodied and broken but despite the hits I stood and kept my eyes on him. I could still see it; he was absolutely terrified of me.
He picked me up and threw me into the cupboard with enough force to make the hallway pictures fall and shatter. I laughed at them like the freak they claimed I was. I don't know how much time passed but my eyes adjusted to the dark and I felt my wounds healing already. There were tears falling down my cheeks so I wiped them away to maintain some level of dignity. I knew that the door wouldn't open again. They were too terrified of me to open it. I wish I had met someone like me before I died. It would have been nice to be friends with another freak.
I fell in and out of consciousness several times so it was hard to tell how much time had passed. I couldn't really focus but for some reason it felt like there was something warm on me. I looked up and saw a red haired woman with one blue eye and one yellow eye. She was wearing something similar to a wedding dress and her body was littered with stitches. "Are you an angel?" she grunted and shook her head. "Am I dead?" again she shook her head. "Who are you?"
The woman pointed at herself, "Ber-ser-ker." Berserker pointed at me. "My mas-ter." I shook my head.
"You can call me Hadrian or Freak. It's really nice to meet you Berserker. You seem like a really kind person." Unfortunately I haven't met any kind people before today. I decided to just smile and roll with it. "Why are you here Berserker? This isn't exactly the best place for someone like you to be. You really are too pretty to be near something like me." I think that's the first time I've said that and been completely honest. God knows I have to lie through my teeth when I'm out with Petunia.
"Why . . . are . . . you . . . here?" I looked at her with a sad smile.
"I'm not strong enough to escape. I'm not fast enough to run. If I could leave them I would." I didn't know that talking to someone felt so wonderful. Maybe I should have tried talking to a high school counselor or something. I started to chuckle at my pathetic situation when Berserker grabbed my arm. "What are you doing?"
"I'm . . . strong."
The Clock Tower, London
A tall man with blond hair and hazel eyes made his way into his office where four other people were waiting. "What the hell are you here for?" He said with an annoyed sigh.
"We're sorry to interrupt you sir but there has been a magical surge in Surrey and the higher ups want you to lead the investigation." The blond sat in his chair and pulled out a cigarette.
"Why would I be called on for such a simple mission?" The four suits looked nervous as hell at the question.
"Sir the magic surge is consistent with the summoning of a servant. The Holy Grail won't appear for another 20 years at the minimum. So whoever did this has a substantial amount of magic." The blond threw the cigarette in the trash and smiled in a way that sent chills down their spines.
"Someone with enough power to summon a servant outside of a Holy Grail War; now that is a decent enough reason to invade my privacy. You four are coming with me. If that servant is a violent one I'll need some cannon fodder." He threw on a red coat with the name Dante Thorn written in dark black. The other four men let out a collective 'fuck' before following Dante.
Ministry of Magic, London
"So where did this magic burst take place?" A bored man with bags under his eyes asked.
"It happened at Private Drive in Surrey. Judging by the size of the outburst you may want to bring someone with you."
"If I need any external help I'll have my elf send you all a message. It was probably some kid that didn't get something he wanted and accidentally set the house on fire. Honestly, that would be pretty damn exciting with how slow everything's been."
"Be careful what you wish for."
"Whatever just make sure the unspeakables get that report from last week. They're trying to do a census for muggle-born magicals." He pulled out a black wand and apparated to Number 12 Private Drive.
Here is what I plan to do with my two OCs. For now Dante Thorn will be the main antagonist for Harry and Berserker but that will change in the future. He is very skilled and very powerful so for now all Harry will be able to do is run from him. The other guy from the ministry is Jason Colt. He is a muggle born wizard that is underpaid and overworked. He'll be a good man but Harry will have understandable trust issues with everyone other than Berserker. As always leave an honest review and comment so that I can become a better writer for all of you wonderful people.