AN. Yes, I know, it's another abused!Harry story. I'm terriblycreative. I'm making it a different one, I promise! Aha. Please bear through the first part of this; I needed it to get to where I wanted to be.

Also: Just to throw this in as a warning again, there will be child abuse in here.

To See Magic

Chapter 1: In which Harry discovers the Wizarding world.

He didn't understand. It made no sense for these letters to be for him. Who would write to him? He had been starting to wonder if it was Dudley; his cousin certainly enjoyed tormenting him. Harry glanced up at the fat boy sleeping on the couch across the room, who was scowling even in his sleep. That idea had been ruled out the very second that Dudley had been forced to miss his first television programme.

Harry wondered if the person – or people – sending the letters knew what they were doing to his uncle. He hoped it would stop soon. The letters were for him, so it was his fault they had to move around to try to get away from them. It was Harry's fault that they were all freezing in this little house in the middle of the ocean. Shivering, Harry curled up more tightly under the thin blanket that Vernon had thought to throw at him earlier, and pressed himself into his corner.

Harry had almost fallen asleep, curled upright against the cold stone of the wall, when Dudley's watch began beeping. He jumped, then relaxed with a sigh, his breath misting in the dark.

Beepbeepbeepbeep. Beepbeepbeepbeep. Beepbeep-BOOM!

Harry's head snapped up at the loud noise, banging against the wall and blinding him momentarily. He heard Dudley's whimper, followed by his heavy footsteps as the boy ran across the room. Rubbing his newest injury, Harry looked fearfully at the door, watching the thick wood shake as another 'boom' echoed around the house. Vernon and Petunia appeared in his peripheral vision, halting at the foot of the stairs. Harry tried to push himself farther into his corner when he saw the gun in his uncle's hands. Whatever was trying to get in was probably after him. This was just serving to remind him of the fact that the reason they were even here was his fault.

Harry's blood ran cold as the door fell flat on the ground, the hinges flying into the room, and a hulking figure squeezed through the opening. The Dursleys were silent around him as the intruder fitted the door back into place before turning to face his shocked audience.

"Evenin'," the giant said, walking over the couch. He pulled a box and an envelope from one of his enormous coat pockets, setting the former on the arm of the couch before looking around at the four people staring at him. "Funny place for a vacation," he said conversationally. "But I s'pose you muggles have a different taste in holidays than us. Differen' 'n me, at any rate. Now…" He scanned the room, quickly spotting Harry in the corner, and strode towards him. Harry jumped up, not wanting to seem impolite to this peculiar, and rather frightening, stranger.

"Well, hallo Harry. Haven' seen you fer a long while! Las' time I saw yeh, yeh were jus' a baby." He chuckled, and held out the envelope. It was identical to the ones that Harry's uncle had been refusing to let him see. He looked fearfully over at his uncle, unsure of what to do. Vernon's face was slowly turning red as he watched the giant.

"Well, go on," the giant said, holding the letter closer to Harry. With another glance at his furious uncle, Harry took it, hesitating only slightly before opening it.

"Who the devil do you think you are?" Vernon finally seemed to have found his voice, and was brandishing his gun at the giant.

"It seems that Harry here wasn' getting' any o' the letters sent t' him. The headmaster sen' me t' come along an' deliver his letter, an' take Harry down t' get his school supplies. Name's Hagrid, by the way," he added, looking back at Harry. "Are yeh gonna read that?" Harry looked down at the still folded letter in his hands and hurriedly opened it.

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Harry looked up at the giant – his name was Hagrid – in disbelief. What on earth was this about? A school of witchcraft and wizardry? Hagrid smiled at him encouragingly, and Harry returned his attention to the letter.

The farther he read, the more confused he became. By the time he was finished, he really had no idea what to think. On the one hand, this sounded like a joke: there wasn't really any such thing as magic, was there? Then again, there had always been those strange incidents around him. The ones that had made his uncle fly into a rage the second they were out of sight of the public.

"I – I don't understand…" Harry looked from his uncle to Hagrid, hoping for someone to explain to him what on earth this all meant.

Hagrid looked surprised. "Yer a wizard, Harry. Yer name's been down for Hogwarts since yeh were born. Fines' school o' magic there is," he announced proudly.

Harry shook his head. If he were a wizard, he would be able to do things. He would be able to help his aunt and uncle, and not be so useless.

"No good denyin' it, Harry. Yer a wizard, jus' like yer parents. Reckon yeh'll be a good one, too, after yeh've been a' school fer a while. Speakin' o' which, we should probably get on our way ter get yer things."

Vernon looked like he was about to explode.

"Oh! An' I almost forgot t' wish yeh a 'happy birthday'!" Hagrid grinned down at him, and Harry managed a quiet 'thank you'. "I made yeh a cake, too!" he said proudly, turning back to the couch. Harry saw him stiffen as they both noticed Dudley bent over the couch, his hands and face inside the box.

Hagrid drew a long pink umbrella from his coat, pointing it at Harry's cousin. There was a little sound, and a light shot from the tip of the umbrella, straight at Dudley's bottom. The boy jumped as if shocked, his hands going straight to where a little pig's tail was poking through his pants. Petunia shrieked, rushing over to her son, Vernon following.

Hagrid turned back to Harry with a wink.

"Off we go, then, Harry," he said, moving towards the door. Harry glanced at his aunt and uncle, who were still huddled over Dudley, and hurried after the giant.

It took them just over two hours to actually get into Diagon Alley. Hagrid had sped up their travelling with his magic umbrella, and the trip hadn't taken that much time. Harry summoned up enough courage to ask the large man some questions on the way, and Hagrid had answered to the best of his ability. He had been furious to discover that the Dursleys had told him nothing of his parents, or the world they had belonged to. When Harry had asked for information about his parents, Hagrid had reluctantly told him about their deaths, and Voldemort. Hagrid had seemed quite relieved when the questioning ended, after that.

Although Hagrid had told Harry that he was considered famous in the Wizarding world, Harry hadn't really though much of it. He hadn't understood how he could be famous in a world he had never known about.

But when they had entered the Leaky Cauldron, they found themselves surrounded by people.

Harry didn't like crowds; he hated the feeling of all the people moving so close to him. But usually, if he found himself in a crowd, he wasn't really noticed by anyone. This time, however, he was the cause of the crowd. As the various witches and wizards came over to get a better look at him, or to shake his hand, or just wish him the best in life, Harry found himself backed up against Hagrid, wishing he were somewhere else. Unfortunately, Hagrid didn't seem to notice Harry's distress, and waited until the crowd had died down somewhat before excusing the two of them.

Now that they were in the Alley, however, Harry had practically forgotten about that. He'd virtually forgotten about the Dursleys! Everything was just so…incredible.

Store windows were filled with colourful items that Harry had never seen the like of, owls soared overhead, and nearly everyone was dressed in robes. Harry watched as a young child hovered on a small broomstick outside of a store as his mother spoke to an employee.

Hagrid had taken Harry to Gringotts before anything else, promising to let him look around as much as he liked afterwards. And he had. After the two of them had gotten out of the never-ending maze that was the bank (and away from the goblins, to Harry's relief), Hagrid had really just been following Harry as they made their way down the alley. When they passed a store that Harry needed something from, the giant would speak up about it, bringing him inside. Harry didn't mind at all. He had been uncomfortable about leading the way, at first, but his curiosity had soon taken over.

As he approached Ollivanders, Hagrid stopped his commentary on the Alley for a moment.

"Tell yeh what, Harry. Go get yer wand, an' I'll meet yeh back here. Need t' get somethin' else."

Harry nodded, though he felt uncomfortable being left alone.

Hagrid walked off, and Harry pulled open the door of the narrow shop. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him as he looked around nervously. The poorly lit store seemed to be completely empty, and smelled of dust and wood.

"Er – excuse me?" Harry called out uncertainly as he approached the front desk.

"Mr. Potter. At last." Harry whipped around to see a skeletal man slip out from one of the rows of tall shelves. Rather taken aback at being addressed by his name, Harry watched silently as the man – Ollivander, presumably – turned to a shelf, searching through the hundreds of boxes he had stacked upon it. After a while, he appeared to have chosen one, pulling it out carefully, and removing a thin wand, which he held out to Harry.

Harry took the wand, unsure of what was going on. He didn't really know what went on when buying a wand. It wasn't really something he'd thought about.

Ollivander snatched the wand back from him, muttering to himself. Harry waited rather uncomfortably as the man searched his boxes again. The process was repeated several times, until Ollivander eventually sent a sly look at Harry, pulling a box out of a drawer in his desk.

When Harry took this wand, he felt it. It was like there was energy buzzing through the wood. The wandmaker had a satisfied smile as he looked Harry over this time. "I'd been wondering who that wand would choose," he said. "It is interesting that it would choose you, Mr. Potter."

Harry looked at him curiously, wanting to know more, but too shy to ask.

"The phoenix whose feather is in this wand gave one other feather. I sold that wand to one Tom Riddle. I suppose it only makes sense for his wand's brother to choose you, as he marked you with his own already." Harry froze as Ollivander reached out, brushing the long fringe away from his oldest scar. Abruptly, the man turned away, moving back to the other side of the desk.

"Now, Mr. Potter, that will be seven galleons." It took a moment for Harry to figure out where the conversation had gone, but quickly paid the man, feeling quite relieved to finally be leaving.

Hagrid was waiting outside the shop for him, holding a large cage with a beautiful Snowy owl. He held it out to Harry.

"As that cousin o' yers ate the cake I made yeh, I figured I'd get yeh a birthday present. Can' have yeh at Hogwarts without an owl."

Harry stared at the man, shocked. This was a present for him? He'd barely known Hagrid for a day. He took the cage after a moment, stuttering his thanks. Hagrid beamed at him.

"S'pose I'd best get yeh back t' yer aunt and uncle, though, Harry," Hagrid said, looking up at the clock that hung above a store that sold magical timepieces.

The world seemed to freeze around him. He had to go back? He hadn't realized…

Harry felt his heart beginning to race as the reality of the situation hit him. The Dursleys would be furious. And with Dudley's tail… There wouldn't be a magic wielding giant to shield him, either.

Harry's dread grew as they made their way back through the Alley and into the muggle London. He barely responded to Hagrid, but the large man only mentioned cheerfully that he was probably just getting tired from being out all day.

When they finally returned to Privet Drive, Hagrid wheeled Harry's trunk up to the door for him before resting his huge hands on Harry's shoulders.

"Remember, Harry, if they try to give yeh trouble, just tell 'em I'll pay 'em a visit." Harry just nodded. He wouldn't. Why would he? He had no way of contacting Hagrid – an owl was all well and good, but if you had nothing to send, and no idea where to send it anyway, it wasn't much help. His uncle Vernon would know it was an empty threat. He knew everything.

"Well, Harry, I have t' be off. Dumbledore'll want t' be seein' me. I'll see yeh on yer firs' day o' school, then." Hagrid wrapped Harry in a bone-crushing hug, and Harry swallowed the small cry of pain that had threatened to escape as the giant man's arms pressed against his various injuries.

With that, the man walked back towards the giant motorcycle across the street. As the engine roared, Harry turned back to the house, his fear rising. Just as he grabbed his trunk and Hedwig's cage, the front door swung open. Vernon stood in the doorway, his expression livid. Harry froze, not daring to move until his uncle jerked his head, indicating he wanted the boy inside. Head bowed, Harry pulled his trunk inside behind him.

Harry had barely set Hedwig's cage down at the foot of the stairs when the first blow came. Unprepared, he stumbled forwards with a cry, sending a glass topped end table crashing to the floor. The next few blows pushed him to the ground, and Harry barely heard his uncle's furious shouting; there was blood on the carpet already from where he had landed on the broken glass.

His face was pushed to the ground, and he couldn't keep quiet anymore as a large piece of glass raked across his closed eye. It hurt far more than what his uncle was doing, while he shouted at Harry to be quiet, that the neighbours would hear if he didn't stop crying. Harry tried to silence his panicked cries, but even when Vernon finally ceased to kick him and dragged roughly him upright, he continued to draw in noisy breaths, one hand clutched over his injured eye, the other pressed close to his chest. The only thing he could think of was that his eyes were important, and he had just ruined one of them. He needed his eyes.

OoO

When his aunt rapped on his cupboard door the next morning, Harry woke to pain. His entire body ached, and his wrist and lower back throbbed painfully as he moved. It was nothing compared to the fire burning over his right eye, though. Harry lifted his hand to it, only to discover that it was badly swollen. His left eye was only half open, pulled closed slightly by the unopened right one. Harry tried opening the injured one experimentally, but stopped before it had opened more than a slit, not wanting to increase the pain any more than that had.

"Open your eyes, boy!" Petunia scolded when he slipped into the kitchen. Harry did so briefly, trying to ignore the pain of opening his still wounded eye fully. His aunt strode across the kitchen, taking his chin roughly to get him to face her. "Open your eyes!" she hissed. When he complied once more, she gasped, stepping back as if he had contracted something contagious. She stared at him, shock and disgust written clearly on her face, and Harry shrunk back, aware that he had done something wrong again, but unsure of what.

"What did you do? You little freak, what did you do?"

Harry reached up to his eye, touching the swollen lid gingerly. "I – I cut it. L-last night. I'm sorry!"

"You did that just to make things difficult for us, didn't you? You ungrateful little - " Petunia cut herself off, turning back to the kitchen as she tried to compose herself. "Just make the breakfast and get back to your cupboard," she said eventually. With that she left the room, not looking at Harry once.

Feeling confused and guilty, Harry set about preparing breakfast for the Dursleys. When he filled up the kettle, he took a look at himself in the mirror that hung over the sink.

His right eye was quite swollen, and the cut reached from the bridge of his nose and diagonally across his eye. After a quick moment to prepare himself, Harry forced himself to open it. He was confused by what he saw. The iris was now a pale blue, instead of the brilliant green it had been, and a white star-like shape reached out from the centre of his pupil.

For a moment, Harry wondered if eyes normally healed like that, but began mentally berating himself for thinking something so silly when his aunt's reaction clearly showed it wasn't normal. Letting his eye close again, Harry returned to preparing breakfast, most of his thoughts occupied by trying to figure out what he could have done to make his eye like this.

OoO

That month was the worst that Harry had spent at the Dursleys'. Although Dudley seemed content to stay away from him for the most part, his uncle was far more violent than normal, often flying into a rage without warning. His aunt had him working in the house around the clock, only occasionally sending him out back to do yard work. Neither of them ever sent him out to the front of the house, now. Harry supposed it had something to do with whatever he'd done to his eye.

OoO

It was August thirty-first, and Harry was, for once, left alone in his cupboard. His aunt was out with her friends, as was Dudley, and Uncle Vernon didn't want anything to do with him.

Harry looked at the ticket in his hands. Platform nine and three quarters. September 1st. Tomorrow. He smiled, his excitement rekindled now that he really was going to be going off to school.

A thought struck him, and Harry slipped out of his cupboard nervously. He needed to get to the train tomorrow. He would have to ask his uncle.

Vernon was sitting in the living room reading the paper, a cup of coffee in one hand.

"U-uncle Vernon?" Harry paused for a moment, trying to compose himself. His uncle hated it when he stuttered. "I – I need to get down the train station to get to – to get to Hogwarts tomorrow…"

Vernon scowled at him, then turned back to the newspaper. "We'll drop you off. Taking Dudley to the hospital to get that damned tail removed, or I wouldn't bother," he growled.

"Thank – thank you, uncle."

His uncle grunted, and Harry darted out of the room. He returned the ticket to his cupboard, then tiptoed upstairs to Dudley's second bedroom, where Hedwig and his school things were being kept.

Harry sat on his trunk as he fed his owl. He smiled at the snowy bird for a while, before returning his attention to the trunk.

He had noticed the strange bronze shimmer around it the day after he had returned to the Dursleys'. It had worried him at first, but Hedwig hadn't seemed bothered by it, and so he had soon gotten over it. He had decided that it was probably due to the enchantments that the wizard in the shop had been talking about. He didn't really know why it hadn't showed up when he had gotten it, but figured that the spell probably took a day or two to take effect.

OoO

Vernon had let Harry out of the car in front of King's Cross without a word, speeding away the moment that Harry had closed the door behind him.

The train station was filled with people. They rushed from place to place, hardly paying attention to those around them. Harry looked down at his things, feeling comforted by the soft bronze shimmer around the trunk, and the fearless look in Hedwig's eyes.

He continued down the station, counting the platforms as he passed them. Seven, eight, nine…and ten. Harry paused between the two. Nine and three quarters, wasn't that where he was supposed to be? But it wasn't there.

Feeling more than a little worried, Harry moved down between platforms nine and ten, looking for some sort of sign telling him where he could find his platform. He glanced at the people milling around him, hoping that someone would be dressed like him, or carrying the same sort of luggage. Even just an owl. It was the wall ahead of him that caught his attention, however. Though much brighter, it had the same sort of shimmer around it that his trunk had. Instead of the bronze colouring, though, it was a sort of reddish pink, and seemed to swirl in the air. Harry imagined that it looked like what stardust would.

He approached the shimmering bricks, guessing that if the shimmer of his trunk did mean it was enchanted, then that probably meant that wall was, too. And if something was magic in a place like this, surely it would lead to the platform? Or at least help him find it, at any rate.

Harry reached out to touch the wall, his hand moving through the magic and then through the very bricks of the wall. He yanked his hand back, heart racing. After taking a moment to calm down, he tried again, this time pushing his whole hand into the wall.

He glanced around at the crowds of people, wondering if anyone had noticed. None of them seemed to…

Harry pulled his hand back, and wheeled his luggage around. If he pushed it through the wall, and it didn't hit anything, then maybe he could go through as well. He moved it forwards slowly, not meeting the resistance of the wall like he had still expected. Eventually he had reached the handles, and with a shaky breath, he closed his eyes and followed his trunk through the wall.

After a few steps, Harry opened one eye, praying that he wouldn't see…well, the inside of the wall. To his relief, he found himself in a completely new area, surrounded by people, and a huge, shining red train to his left.

In contrast to the subdued chatter of the muggle train station, platform nine and three quarters was full of a bustling energy. Voices were loud and happy as they mixed with the warm light around them. It seemed that most of them had a faint shimmer as well, though nothing as strong even as his trunk's. The colours varied from reds and yellows to greens and blues, occasionally matching the colour of an object near them.

"Do you need any help?" a voice beside Harry asked. He turned to see a tall girl with long braided hair. "You look a little lost. Are you a first year?" He nodded, glancing around at the platform again. The girl smiled at him, and gently put her had on his shoulder. "My name's Ann, I'm a prefect at Hogwarts. I'll help you around here, okay?"

Harry moved with her into the crowds, glad that he had someone to show him what was going on.

"Are you meeting anyone here?" Ann asked as she stopped them beside a multi-levelled cart. It was filled with cages of owls.

Harry shook his head. "I don't know anyone," he admitted.

"That's all right. Plenty of first years don't know anyone else. I'm sure you'll make friends soon. Now, you should leave your owl here."

Harry looked at Hedwig, waiting until she gave a soft hoot before he moved her cage to the others. He looked back over at Ann, who was gazing at Hedwig.

"That's a beautiful owl you have," she said, guiding him along the train again. "All right, now we just have to get your trunk over to all the luggage, and you'll be good to go!"

OoO

Harry sat uncomfortably in an empty compartment, staring out at the scenery rushing past, and plucking at the long sleeve of his robes. He'd worn them so he wouldn't stand out as much, but it seemed as if most of the students were all wearing everyday muggle clothing. Then again, the old clothes that he had probably would have attracted attention anyway. Even ignoring the fact that they were about seven times too big for him, they were in fairly terrible condition. It didn't really matter much when he was at the Dursleys.

The compartment door slid open, and a freckle-faced boy with red hair stepped inside. He looked at Harry appraisingly for a moment.

"D'you mind if I sit with you? I was trying to find someone, but..." Harry shrugged, and the boy slid the door shut behind him.

The redhead sat across from Harry, pulling a rat from his pocket. He extended his empty hand to Harry. "Ron Weasley."

Harry shook it uncomfortably. "Harry Potter." Weasley's eyes lit up, and he leaned forwards, staring at Harry openly.

"Seriously? You're Harry Potter?" Harry nodded, keeping his eyes low. This seemed uncomfortably close to what had happened in the Leaky Cauldron. "D'you have the, well, you know…" He looked meaningfully at Harry, who could only look back blankly. With a tone that implied he was mildly annoyed and embarrassed at having to say it aloud, Weasley continued, "The scar." Harry was silent for a moment. He had lots of scars. The cut on his eye was already almost one, especially now that the swelling had gone. He lifted his hand to push his fringe away, though, thinking of the one scar that his aunt and uncle seemed to have despised. The lighting bolt on his forehead.

Weasley sat back with an impressed grin. "That's wicked." He continued to stare at Harry's forehead, though the black hair was covering the scar once more. He opened his mouth again, seemed to think about what he was about to say, but continued anyway, asking, "Do you remember it?"

"Remember what?" Harry was starting to regret letting Weasley sit with him.

"When You-Know-Who, you know…" Harry sat puzzled for a moment before he remembered Hagrid calling his parents' murderer by the same name. He shook his head, wondering why on earth the redhead wanted to know something like that.

Weasley looked rather disappointed for a moment, but soon turned his attention to Harry's eye. "Did'ja get into a fight, or something, Harry?"

Harry frowned, wishing someone would come along and say that the train ride was almost over.

"I tripped. Fell into a table corner," he said quietly, looking away.

Harry thanked whatever Gods there were when the compartment door slid open just as Weasley was beginning another question. A girl stood in the doorway, also already wearing her school robes. She peered into the corners of the compartment.

"Have either of you two seen a toad?" she asked. Weasley shook his head, his expression clearly stating that he couldn't care less.

"I'm sorry, I haven't either," Harry said. The girl frowned slightly.

"Well, if you do happen to see it, a boy called Neville is looking for it."

"I – I'll help you look, if you'd like," Harry offered quietly, standing as she moved to leave. He hoped she wouldn't turn him away; he desperately wanted to get away from the red haired boy across from him.

The girl brightened visibly. "That would be wonderful!" Before Harry could say or do anything, she had grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the compartment.

"I'm Hermione Granger, by the way," she said, releasing his hand as she approached another door.

"Er, I'm Harry. Harry Potter," he said it quickly and quietly, hoping that she wouldn't gawk at him like Weasley had.

"Really?" Hermione looked over at him, eyes wide. "I've read so much about you!" She didn't stare at him, though, which Harry was exceptionally thankful for, but turned her attention back to the compartment before them. As the witch walked unashamedly into the older students' conversation, Harry noticed a small movement near the door of the train car. With a glance at Hermione, he walked over, kneeling before the dark toad. He picked it up gently, and walked back over to where Hermione was closing the door of the compartment.

"Is this the toad?" he asked. The bushy-haired witch hurried over to him, examining the creature.

"I think so, but I can't really say for sure. I don't know how many toads there could be running around loose on one train, though. Let's go find Neville. He should know."

"Trevor!" a voice exclaimed as she turned. A round-faced boy was hurrying towards them, his relief evident. He gratefully took the toad from Harry, stroking it as it let out a deep croak. "Thanks for helping me find him."

"It's no trouble," Hermione said brightly as Harry ducked his head shyly.

A hand appeared before Harry, and he looked up at the boy before him. "I'm Neville Longbottom."

"Harry Potter."

Neville didn't seem as shocked as Hermione had to learn who Harry was, though he was clearly impressed. "Gran talks about you all the time. She said that Dumbledore sent you to live with muggles, even though there were loads of magical families that would have taken you in." Neville frowned slightly as he thought about it. "No one was too happy with Dumbledore about that."

"Well, I'm sure he had a reason for it." The two boys looked over at Hermione. "He is called one of the greatest wizards of the age. I doubt if he does anything without a good reason."

Neville appeared content with that reasoning, and Harry nodded, hoping he didn't look as doubtful as he felt. He would like to think there was a good reason for why he was living with the Dursleys.

"Could you guys please find somewhere to sit?" the three of them turned to see Ann a little ways down the hallway. "We'll be arriving soon."

"Do you have anything in the compartment you were in, Harry?" Hermione asked him as the prefect walked off. He shook his head, dreading returning to the redhead and his questions. "Why don't you join us, then? It's not like there's that much time left, but you might as well. Unless you don't want to, of course."

Harry looked up at her gratefully. "You wouldn't mind?" Hermione shook her head, smiling, and glanced at Neville. He shrugged.

"You can come if you'd like, I don't mind."

OoOoOoOoO

I know that this chapter was full of 'this happened in the book!' stuff, but I couldn't really just jump into this without it. But Harry does get his…eye. ^.^

Your thoughts on this, dear readers?

Yours 'till death,

Caelistis.