Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters and I make no money from this. It's purely just a bit of fun and all rights belong to JK Rowling.

This may become a series, I may leave this as a standalone, it all really depends on whether it keeps me interested. Who knows, if I (and you) enjoy it I may even end up branching out past the Deathly Hallows and creating brand new content.

It's pretty much the same start with Harry being abused at the Dursley's but there will also be changes from the get-go as you'll find out. Much like how Rowling wrote I suppose, I haven't planned everything out, I have ideas and fragments that will eventually work their way in but I don't know when and how, one I can say for certain though is that this will be a Harry/Hermione (Harmony) pairing with other pairings with separate characters maybe happening too. Personally I'm not a big fan of Ron in general but I'll voice my opinions of him as necessary, probably in P.S. notes at the end of chapters. Anyway I've rambled on long enough, enjoy and feel free to review.

Chapter 1: The Birthday Boy

Harry Potter awoke to stare once again at the ceiling of the cupboard under the stairs, where he had spent the last eleven years eating, sleeping and spending his spare time. Well, almost eleven years; it wasn't quite his birthday yet, and he had never really had any reason to look forward to it. After all, his aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon loved him as much as they loved the Mrs Figg's black, shaggy dog that always seemed to find its way over to Aunt Petunia's tulips to relieve itself. Dudley loved harry even less, beating him for sport and the entertainment of his posse. At least when Vernon did it (Aunt Petunia would never do it, but didn't stop her husband from taking off his belt or reaching for his old cane) he claimed it was for "discipline" and "to beat it out of you". What "it" was harry didn't know.

Speaking of birthdays, Harry suddenly recalled that it was in fact Dudley's 11th birthday today. He groaned at the thought and winced as he sat himself up in bed, his ribs aching from Dudley's beating the day before. Harry lifted his shirt to see the bare outline of his ribs and a reasonably sized bruise over his liver, courtesy of Dudley's left fist. Harry pulled himself out of bed and got dressed into his oversized clothes, hand-me-downs of Dudley's that the Dursleys made him wear instead of wasting good money on him. As he was pulling his shirt over his head a sudden loud rapping came through his bedroom door (A.K.A the cupboard door).

"Boy! Up! Now!" Aunt Petunia's voice rang through, shrill as ever, "Diddykins needs his breakfast!" and off she went.

When he thought it was safe he opened his cupboard door and stepped out. "Stooped out" would be a more accurate description, as Harry was already quite tall for his age. He was closing the door when his head was forced forward by a slap on the back of the head from the birthday boy as Dudley made his way into the kitchen.

"Come on, Potter," he taunted, "I want my bacon," and disappeared behind the kitchen door.

Harry leant his head against the stairs, now aching after Dudley's punch. He hadn't cried at the hand of the Dursleys in a long time, years even, and he wasn't planning on changing that any time soon. He hadn't grown numb to the pain, nor did he like being abused by his relatives, he simply came to realise that this was his life from now on. Maybe when he was older he could escape their clutches and forge a life of his own, but that was a long way away, and harry hadn't even considered what he wanted to do for a job. He knew uncle Vernon worked at a place called Smeltings doing something with drills but he had no idea what and he didn't bother to ask. Even if he did he knew he probably wouldn't get a good answer as the Dursleys hated questions and any form of imagination. Harry had eventually decided just to live life and hope it would get better.

He lifted his head from the staircase and slowly walked to the kitchen where he saw Dudley already opening the presents closest to him from the mountain that stood before him. His adoring parents were sat on the sofa nearby, watching their little boy proudly as he tore through the wrapping paper to reveal his new computer, a racing bike, a remote controlled car, a very formal watch and some new hoodies.

My wardrobe in a few years, harry thought sarcastically, half believing that there was no way Dudley could outgrow these hoodies that quickly. He grabbed a can of beans from the larder and some bacon and eggs from the fridge before setting them all to cook, stirring and flipping when required. It wasn't long before the first batch was ready and Harry placed what he could on a plate then walked over to Aunt Petunia, who was closest to him. Dudley was the image of his father, gorilla like in size and probably in mind too, with hardly any neck and stubby fingers. Petunia, who was the complete opposite, thin as a stick with a craning neck and elongated fingers, looked up in disgust.

"Not me, you fool!" she snarled, "Diddykins first, it's his day."

Harry weakly turned and began to walk around the stack of presents towards "Diddykins". Unfortunately, Dudley was testing out his new remote controlled car at that particular moment and it shot out right in front of Harry's feet. Before he even realised what had happened Harry was tumbling to the floor and the plate of bacons, beans and eggs was gone from his hand. With a thud he crashed to the floor but looked up just in time to see the plate fall onto Dudley's fat head, spilling beans all over his hair and dropping the eggs over the places his eyes should be.

Dudley and Aunt petunia's cries of terror were masked only by uncle Vernon roaring. He was no thin man but he was surprisingly quick to his feet and even quicker grabbing Harry by the scruff of the neck and throwing him nearly fifteen feet away. Harry knew he had to get out or he'd be in for worse than being thrown across the room. He was up and out of the house before uncle Vernon could even reach the kitchen door, running down Privet Drive to the only place he felt safe; a small patch of woods near the park. Harry didn't like hanging out near motorways and roads like the other kids his age. He had always been cautious of them seeing as how his parents had died in a driving collision and he had no intentions of ending up the same way any time soon.

Harry didn't get ten yards away from Number Four Privet Drive, the house of his aunt and uncle, before Mrs Figg's shaggy black dog was sprinting beside him. He remembered the first time this dog had come running after him. Half of him was worried the dog was trying to attack him, the other was concerned the dog would get lost and Harry didn't want to be the cause of that. He'd have stopped and taken the dog back to it's home if he hadn't annoyed Vernon something terrible and knew he'd be out to his car soon to try and find him or run him over. So he kept running and so did the dog. He seemed to recall Mrs Figg having cats before, so her sudden change to a large dog seemed odd to Harry so he didn't question it.

Don't ask questions, echoed Petunia's voice in his head.

Harry had developed a knack for running long distance without stopping, to the point he could reach his hiding spot only needing to slow down slightly every so often to catch his breath before speeding up again, although he needed quite a good breather when he eventually stopped. The black dog veered off and disappeared at the edge of Little Whinging as usual when the trees came into view, so Harry continued across the empty park an fields over to them alone. He slipped in-between some bushes and found his usual hiding spot, clear of litter as he always left it. Harry sank against the trunk of a tree and breathed heavily, recovering from his impromptu run. After a minute or so the black dog came through the same bushes as Harry, a small plastic bag in it's jaw which Harry could guess the contents of.

"You are one clever dog," Harry spoke aloud, unsure if the dog could even understand him or if he was just speaking to the air. The dog dropped the bag on Harry's legs and he gladly grabbed the water bottle inside. "Thanks, Snuffles," Harry said as Snuffles licked his slightly bloodied knuckles that were resting on his bent leg. Harry ruffled Snuffles behind the ears which he appeared to like as he made his way to Harry's side, lay down and placed his head on Harry's lap. Harry lay there with him and stroked his side as he munched through the sandwich and chocolate bar that were also in the bag. Harry didn't know how or why but Snuffles always brought him a stash of food when he could and knew where to find him. More than once Harry had been off walking where he thought nobody would find him, only to be met by Snuffles trotting along beside him. Not that he didn't like the company, on the contrary he loved it. Snuffles was a companion that seemed to like him and he certainly liked Snuffles so he saw no reason to not let the dog be with him when he managed to escape the Number Four.

Harry felt so comfy and tired from his run and snack that he allowed himself to nod off to sleep, Snuffles curled beside him.

When he awoke he glanced at his watch and found it to be early evening, around four o'clock, so Harry decided to head back to Number Four. He remembered that his aunt and uncle were taking Dudley and one of his friends to the zoo and then out to a meal that evening so Harry still had some time to get back to the house and relax for a little while before they returned. No doubt Dudley had been compensated for Harry's fall with another few presents on their trip and Harry did not look forward to Dudley's smug face or the beating he would likely receive from his cousin.

He got up and stretched, causing Snuffles to wake up and do the same thing.

"Come on, Snuffles. Time to go home," harry groaned and Snuffles let out a similar whine. On their way back to Privet Drive, harry often found himself making up conversations with Snuffles and treating his responsive barks as the other half of the conversation. The conversation he created on this particular night went a little something like this:

"So, any plans for the weekend, Snuffles?"

*Bark*

"Your sister in Manchester, huh? What's she like?"

*Bark*

"Well, of course she's a bitch but that doesn't answer my question."

*Bark* *Bark*

"I know, I'm hilarious… Do you see much of your family?"

*Bark*

"Not since the accident? What happened?"

*Bark* *Bark*

"No! How could he?!"

*Bark* *Bark* *Bark*

"What is the world coming to?" Harry tutted.

Harry would carry on the conversation until they reached Privet Drive, where Harry would say goodbye to Snuffles and he would bark back in reply.

Harry was glad to see that uncle Vernon's car was not in the driveway, meaning they hadn't returned from their day out yet. Harry walking up the path to Number Four when he was stopped by a peculiar site.

There was an owl perched on the front door step of Number Four.

Harry was astounded. He looked around, expecting some kind of prank. The owl cocked its head and cooed slightly at him so Harry, not seeing any way around it, approached the owl. He noticed that it carried in its beak a letter with emerald ink, shining in the evening sun. And Harry saw that the letter bore his name. He slowly approached the owl and kneeled down in front of it, slowly reaching for the letter and grabbing it gently. The owl relinquished its grip on the letter and took off as Harry stood to read the envelope's address:

Harry James Potter
The Cupboard Under The Stairs
No. 4 Privet Driving
Little Whinging, Surrey

Harry was slightly taken aback. He had never received a letter before that he knew of, not from school or library or the bank or anything. Harry was so confused by the letter that he almost didn't see the emblem stamped onto it. It was some kind of Coat of Arms bearing a lion, a badger, an eagle and a snake, one in each corner. Harry decided to read the letter indoors so made sure nobody was watching and let himself into the house after taking the spare key from the hanging basket nearby. Once inside he decided to open it in his cupboard. Not only would it mean he could hide the letter should the Dursleys come back early, but he also felt ironically comfortable in his cupboard as nobody ever went in there but him.

He sat on his bed and broke the seal to the letter and read what was inside. He almost couldn't take it in.

"Dear Mr Potter,

We are delighted to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…"

It went on to list things Harry would need and the date and time he would need to be at King's Cross Station to catch the train to this magic school.

"You have got to be joking," Harry again spoke aloud to himself, quite literally, "this is some kind of birthday prank from Dudley, surely."

But how did Dudley manage to teach an owl to wait on our doorstep with a letter? Harry pondered, he wouldn't put that much effort into as prank, and uncle Vernon and aunt petunia would never partake in one anyway. It involves imagination after all…

Harry spent the rest of the time he planned to watch TV instead wondering what this letter was. He was so lost in thought he didn't even hear Uncle Vernon's car pull up outside and had just enough time to shut his cupboard door before the Dursley's came through the front door, talking excitedly and making quite the commotion. Dudley was muttering something like "let's get it set up" and Aunt Petunia replied "as long as I don't have to touch it". Harry wasn't sure he even wanted to know what was going on, but he knew what he was going to do with the letter. He had read it so many times he practically had it memorised so he was going to wait for Aunt Petunia and Dudley to go to bed and then he would ask Uncle Vernon about it. Vernon was always the last to bed as he stayed up to watch the news and the football results. Not that he cared about football, he just didn't want to not have a conversation topic the next day at work and most of the men at Smeltings seemed to enjoy the sport.

Harry heard Dudley's heavy feet plod up to his room after a while and aunt Petunia make her way up slowly after. Harry waited a few minutes for them to get settled and then slowly opened his cupboard door and crept into the living room.

"Uncle Vernon?" He said to the room, as Vernon was watching the television. Vernon sighed heavily.

"What is it, boy?" he growled.

"I got a letter today," Harry replied and was interrupted when he took a breath.

"Oh goody. Would you like me to stick it on the fridge?" Vernon teased with a chuckle at his own joke.

"It's from a place called Hogwarts and it says something about-"

"What?" Vernon snapped, his head jerking to harry in an instant. He stood up quickly and strode over to Harry and snatched the letter from his hands, all the while muttering "Who? Where? To you? What?" He observed the letter with wide eyes and raced from the room, his face stricken with fear. Harry was right behind him reeling off questions as they walked outside and Harry saw Vernon tear his letter to pieces and throw it in the bin outside the house.

"No!" Harry called but was pushed back inside by Vernon.

Neither of them spotted the black, shaggy dog watching them from Mrs Figg's front step.

Harry was outraged that Vernon had torn up his letter, his only letter.

"You git!" he cried out, "Why?! Why did you do that?!"

Vernon wheeled around so quickly Harry almost fell, but he was grabbed by Vernon on his shirt and lifted off his feet.

"You want to be a wizard, ay, Potter?! You want to cast spells and fly brooms?! Well, tough luck, boy! There's no such thing as magic!" He slapped Harry with the back of his hand and let him fall to the floor outside his cupboard door. Vernon wrenched the door open, not caring that it hit Harry, then picked him up and pushed him inside. Harry triped and fell onto his bed, lightly smacking his head on the wall upon impact and causing his glasses to slip off the bridge of his nose. He heard Petunia come halfway down the stairs.

"Vernon? What is it?" she asked weakly.

Vernon's reply started quiet but eventually grew to another shout.

"He's one of them… he's in the house, I will not have one in the house Petunia… No… No! They know where we live! We have to get out of here, go somewhere they can't find us!"

Harry couldn't see but he heard the front door of the house blast open and a bright white light cast through the foyer of the house, breaking through the cracks in Harry's door. Petunia shrieked and Vernon cowered as a voice spoke to them. Rough and deep with anger at its core.

"You'll do no such thing. You'll stay right here and wait to hear from Hogwarts again. Is Harry upstairs, in his room?"

Vernon's reply was weak and whimpering.

"Y-yes he's… he's upstairs in-in-in- in his bed- bed room…"

"Good," the man replied, "I've seen you mistreating him, Dursley, and I've been told not to intervene, but should I ever find out the extent of the abuse you've placed upon that boy, I hope for your sake your out of my grasp by then… you will wait for more news."

"Mhm," Vernon hummed weakly.

The door closed, the light vanished and Harry felt the vibration as Vernon slid against the wall, down the floor. For the first time in his life, Harry heard Vernon weeping. Petunia sounded like she came to sit with him and hold him.

"I thought it would stop," Vernon sobbed, "I thought we could beat it out of him…"

Noises of comfort came from Petunia but Vernon would receive none from Harry. All he could think of was that someone was on his side nearby and there was a school of magic that wanted him.

But why? He wondered, Why would they want you? An orphan boy with no real talents and only a dog as a friend, his heart sank as he continued to think, they probably want me for target practice, or test new potions on me, or to be the secretary of some professor.

He spent so long thinking about the horrible ways the school would probably use him that he didn't feel himself fall asleep again. When he awoke, the loud banging ordering him to prepare breakfast never came, Dudley's thundering footsteps didn't shake the stairs above him and his face hurt instead of his ribs today. Instead of all the commotion, there instead came a light tapping at the door. Harry got up cautiously and opened it. There stood Uncle Vernon and he politely asked Harry to step back so he could sit in the cupboard with him. Harry obeyed, confused and sat on the bed too.

"Y'know Harry," Vernon began, looking around the cupboard, "Your aunt and I have decided that it's high time you had a bedroom of your own instead of this dingy cupboard, so we're clearing out Dudley's spare room and you can have that instead."

Harry was glad with the news but couldn't help but jab at Vernon.

"It took you eleven years to figure out I should have a bedroom of my own?" He quipped.

"Don't get smart with me, boy!" Vernon growled and Harry saw his hand twitch slightly but he didn't flinch. Vernon hadn't scared Harry for a long time. "We just decided that it wasn't right for us to keep you here when you're a growing lad who need room. So get all this stuff upstairs at once."

As Vernon was leaving, Harry took one last dig at his uncle.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with the man who came to the house last night would it?"

"Man? What man? No man came here last night," Vernon was walking out of the cupboard but was stopped by Harry's next line.

"Yeah there was, y'know the man who made you cry."

Vernon stood stock still for a few seconds. Harry knew he'd plucked a nerve. He also knew Vernon didn't want to risk anything anymore. After a moment, he left the corridor and walked into the kitchen, defeated.

Harry smirked. Things were going to get better.