First of all let me say that I love writting, although that does not mean that I´m any good at it. I hope you like this fanfiction. Reviews are always welcome good (for make me happy) or bad (to help me improve).

Let me warn you that I almost always ship Harry and Hermione and it is must lilkely that this fanfic will not be the exception. Also I have a terrible spelling so sorry about that. Emm oh Lily and James are not so bad in this story, the same with Dumbledore. I think it is also important that I tell you that I hate Ginny so if you do like her is posible you won´t like this very much.

If after all this you still what to read my fanfiction, well then thanks I hope you enjoy it, if you decide to stop reading at this point then that is a shame although I don´t really blame you.

One last thing, the preview of the story: Harry was left at the doorstep of a muggle family, who named him Christopher (Chris for short). He grew up as a muggle and never recived his Hogwarts letter. Ian is his twin and also the boy who lived, he is currently in the summer between his fourth and fifth year.

Oh and I don´t own Harry Potter bla bla bla..,

Dear Diary:

I don´t like the fact I am so freaking strange. Just yesterday I somehow managed to make a rock transform into a flower. Everyone freaked out and I don´t blame them. I am wired; I´m a monster and I truthfully can't understand why my parents insist in not throwing me into a garbage can for the garbage men to take me away in their smelly buses. Gods knows how they are in all their rights of doing so. I hate myself; better yet I hate the things I can do. No matter how cool they are.

January 18 1989

Christopher Finished reading the passage in his diary. It had been a present from his aunt Trace for his seventh birthday. He could still remember his deep disappointment upon seeing his favorite aunt had actually given him a diary. That in his opinion was surely not something a cool seven year old should have, never mind use.

Never less he started writing in it when he was eight and was in desperate need of someone to whom he could trust all his secrets, that for being so young where many. The diary held absolutely every single thing he wished no one ever knew about him. Every freakish act he had ever done was written down in the not so thin notebook.

He was fourteen now (almost fifteen), and thank god he had managed some kind of control over what he called his "special talent". The accidents had decreased enormously the last three years and now almost no weird things happened around him, although if he was very angry or sad or in general feeling a very strong emotion his "special talent" kicked in and preformed some stupid and illogical thing that will put not only him, but his family as well, in ridicule. They were the underdogs of the neighborhood. His parents made a huge effort trying to pretend they didn't care, but Chris could see how every time some neighbor made a B.B.Q and they were not invited how his father will sport a sad and resigned face for almost a week, sometimes more. Or when the women gathered around for a cup of tea to discuss the latest gossips how his mother would make a chocolate cake or some other absurd thing to make herself forget that aside of her small family there was no other person who liked her.

He himself wasn't mister popular; actually he didn't have a single friend. Every time he had tried (that were in fact many) it didn't last, because he would do something to scare the kid away. After some time he had accepted the fact that he was kind of an abomination who wasn't destined to having friends. What bothered him the most was the fact that he was never going to have a girlfriend. He would never receive a kiss nor would he ever move on to third base with any girl. He was probably the most miserable excuse of a man on earth.

Without his mother and father he would have probably grown up as a depressed and bitter man who isolated himself of any human being by living in some small cave in some remote place. His parents had been great, always there for him, giving him love and taking care of him not to mention accepting him just the way he was and by doing so they had teach him to accept himself as well and to make the most of what he was and not to dull in something he would never be. For example a normal teenage boy who could have the possibility of getting laid.

He looked down at the diary once more and read what his eight year self had once written. He couldn't help but laugh at his foolishness. Although deep down he knew that somewhere in there was still that afraid little boy with all his doubts and insecurities.

He graved a pen and flipped the pages until he reached a new and clean one where he could write. After a moment of hesitation he leaned down and wrote:

Dear diary:

There is this girl I have like a massive crush on. She is hot; no scratch that she is super-hot but the problem is that she has a boyfriend. Guess who the git is? Yes no other than Davis Shaw, the football Capitan and dumbest person currently residing the planet earth. He is so not worthy of such an amazing girl as Macy Tyrell. But what a geek like me can do about that? Even if she wasn't dating that brute she will probably never even notice my existence. I hate popularity you know?

Today it was one of the "days". I had finally gathered the courage to speak to Macy but just as I was going to ask her if she needed any help with biology class my mouth went dry and not a single word come out of my lips. I just stood there with my mouth open looking like an idiot. She of course lough and I don't really blame her. But anyways that it's not why I'm writing, no it's because just as she was turning to leave her brute of a boyfriend arrived and upon seeing me he decided he could use punching someone. And yep that someone was sadly me. Just when he was about to shot the first blow my "special talent" made an act of appearance and he was thrown backwards by an invisible force. He ended up at the other side of the hall, crashing with the lockers that where in the wall. It was a nasty crash but not as nasty as the principals scold. I was given a suspension you see and Mother went crazy. Now I'm grounded. She didn't even care that I was actually acting on self-defense! Bloody woman.

June 2 1996

Just as he was finishing writing he felt a piercing pain in his head. It was not the first time this happened but it was definitely the worst so far. The pain was such that for a moment all he could see was white. He didn't realize he had screamed or that he had fallen from the chair. All he could focus on was on the pain. Just as he was about to lose consciousness images started flashing in his head. Two babies on a white crib, crying. A woman smiling to the same babies. A man with red eyes, filled with triumph, pointing a steak to the green eyed boy. Images and more images past flashing through his mind, each time faster and faster until it abruptly stopped in one scene. The man with the red eyes was again there, but he looked more tiered, like if the black cloak that he was wearing was so heavy that his shoulders were having trouble supporting it. Although the arrogance and cruelty was still there, radiating from the man´s very soul. He wasn't alone; there was also a small and pudgy man that had a face that resembled that one of a rat. He was scared, that was obvious. Next to him was another man. He was tall and held himself with an air of arrogance. He had aristocrat features and a long platinum, almost white, hair. Both men were wearing black cloths and if you bothered to look carefully you could see the strange tattoo both men sported on their left arms.

"You have news Lucius?" The man with red eyes spoke. His voice was no louder than a whisper and held something that remained you to the snakes. Louis couldn´t see the man´s features, only his red eyes.

"Yes my lord" Answered the tall man. He held himself with dignity and was trying to conceal his fear, but it was still palpable in the air. He was scared shitless by the creature that was in front of him and Chris couldn't really blame him.

"The Potter boy is an imbecile, just an arrogant school boy. My son Draco assures me that he has no special talent what's so ever"

The man with the red eyes laughed. It was a low and cruel lough that chilled your bones to the core. The rat man cringed and made himself smaller, as if wanting to just blend with his surroundings and disappear.

"Then the old coot isn´t as fool as I thought. His is probably acting mediocre on purpose. Wanting me to underestimate the boy-who-lived. A clever move I may add"

"No my lord" The man spoke hesitantly as if afraid of what his master would do to him for contradicting him. "If what my son says is true, that I surly think it is" The man continued. "The Potter boy would not act like that because he wants to. The boy seeks to be better than anyone. He craves power and he has this absurd idea that he is actually the most powerful wizard on earth, which of course he isn't. So there is no logic in him putting himself down, it doesn't match with his personality, my lord" The man with the creepy red eyes didn't answer, instead he pointed a long white stick to the man, then he muttered a word and a blinding blue light went flying straight to the man´s chest. Just as the light come in contact with his body he fell down to the ground screaming in pain.

"You foul. Of course it is an act. The boy it's just a great actor and he is doing a great job deceiving not just me but my followers as well. You see Lucius I know the kid is powerful. I have shared his thoughts. I can feel his magic through my veins not to mention he defeated me when he was just a small little stupid son of a bitch boy. In fact he is here right now, listening to every single word we are saying, isn't he warmtail?" The rat man jump a little by being addressed. He was sweating profusely and it seemed as if he was going to be sick at any moment, but even like that the man managed a small "My lord?" Before he, just like his partner, was hit by a blinding blue light that made him scream with agony.

"No one ever told you that it is rude to eavesdrop? It's time to wake up little Ian" And just like that Christopher was pulled out of the scene and brought back into reality.

He felt tired and every single part of his body ached, especially his head. He was sweating and he could feel a warm thing sliding from his forehead all the way down to his lips.

"He´s awake Arnold" He heard the faint voice of what he supposed was his mother, but he didn't have time to check if he was right because just then everything turned once again black and he knew he was slipping back into unconsciousness.