Harry Potter and the Ties of Allegiance

By: Nashi

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or any of the characters in this story. They are the property and creation of JK Rowling, and I'm not gaining anything from writing this story. (Except the satisfaction of seeing these characters do what I want them to). I'm just a fan fic writer who craves reviews.

Spoilers: Order of the Phoenix for sure. I don't know if there will be any spoilers from any of the later books, but it's possible. Besides, you shouldn't be reading fan fics if you haven't finished the amazing series anyways.

Pairings: No pairings yet. There might be one later, but as of this moment I have no plans for one. However, knowing the way I like to write fan fiction (and with the lack of evil female characters), there will like be an m/m couple in the future. If that offends you… well, you just got your warning.

Rating: T, might change to M in later chapters.

Author's Note: I don't have a beta reader, so, I apologize if there are any mistakes. I'm fairly certain that I caught the large glaringly obvious ones on my own, but if there's something terribly wrong with my story please let me know (in a polite manner).And if you want to be a beta reader, do let me know. Flames will not be tolerated.

Chapter 1

Chateau Dursely

Harry winced slightly, the reflexive sharp intake of breath somehow making him feel better as he pressed the cool cloth back against his swelling eye. Vernon had been easy on him tonight, thankfully, the walrus of a man had drank more liquor than he could handle, passing out before a full evening of 'fixing' Harry. It was Vernon's latest brilliant idea. If magic couldn't be forced out, suppressed out, or learned out of Harry, perhaps it could be beaten out.

With a grimace, Harry shook thoughts of his Uncle from his mind and took advantage for this rare chance to use the bathroom as he pleased. Vernon didn't like the idea of a Freak using his facilities to clean his filth. So, Harry rarely had an opportunity to attend to his hygiene. His hair, as a result was tangled and matted to his head, caked in blood from a meeting with the wall a few weeks prior, and slick with enough grease to make Snape jealous. His clothes were in a similar state of disrepair, blood and dirt stains covering him from head to toe, the hems tattered more so than Dudley's street clothes. While he could have changed, Harry saw no need to ruin more than one outfit. It wasn't like Vernon was going to hesitate at drawing blood because Harry had a clean shirt.

Through it all, there was one thing that Harry was infinitely thankful for. His Uncle's complete and utter disgust of him. The man never touched Harry more than necessary, skin on skin contact being absolutely repulsive to him. Even at his most impressive levels of intoxication, Vernon would remember to wear a glove before beating Harry. When Harry had thought to hide Vernon's gloves he was introduced to his Uncle's work boots, and a wooden baseball bat he was given the task of later burning in the backyard. However, his Uncle's irrational repulsion stilled Harry's fears of rape, and for that slight peace of mind he was eternally grateful. Being trapped and violated under his Uncle wasn't high on Harry's list of things to do.

Physically, Harry was holding up well enough from his Uncle's beatings. At least, he thought so. His bed sheets were in tatters around his room, having used them as makeshift bandages for the worst of his wounds. With all the cuts and scrapes he had tended to lately, he looked remarkably like a mummy out of a low budget muggle film. Well, he thought he did. It was hard for him to properly diagnose his condition since Vernon broke his glasses two weeks ago. It was probably for the best that the lenses had finally shattered. Near the end of his spectacle's life, the hard wire frames were tearing into his face from the abuse that Vernon had put them through.

And where was Dumbledore through all this? Well, Harry had stopped asking himself that long ago. At first he simply figured that Dumbledore didn't know, which was fine by him. Harry didn't exactly want his mentor, headmaster, defeater of Grindiwald and leader of the Order of the Phoenix to know that he was being beaten by his muggle relatives. His family was supposed to love and care for him, and he was supposed to be the wizarding world's hero. It wouldn't do any good for the Daily Prophet to have the headline "Harry Potter – Beaten by Muggles".

Through, try as he might, Harry couldn't delude himself for very long. Of course Dumbledore knew what Harry was going through. After all, his first Hogwarts letter had been addressed to "the cupboard under the stairs." The old wizard had obviously known about Harry's situation since he was ten. Now, with Voldemort on the loose and his godfather dead, Harry was more than certain Dumbledore was keeping an eye on him now. He would have to be an idiot to not keep an eye on the wizarding world's golden boy during these dangerous times.

As Harry hastily wiped his body down with a face cloth, he couldn't help but wonder what he did to incur the old man's wrath. Perhaps it had something to do with his Father, no one seemed to have liked James Potter much, with the exception of Sirius and Reamus. Or, perhaps, Dumbledore had something to gain from leaving Harry here. If that were true than the old man was in for a surprise, as all he was accomplishing was making Harry despise muggles.

With a start, Harry dropped his washcloth to the floor as he was hit with a sudden realization. Dumbledore was trying to make him hate muggles! Though, that made no sense. Why on earth would the headmaster want him disliking muggles? The professor knew how afraid Harry was of becoming like Voldemort, so why have him stay with an abusive muggle family, especially while grieving the loss of his Godfather.

Fears of becoming a Dark Lord aside, why would Dumbledore force anyone to stay with an abusive family, muggle or not?

Fuming, Harry cursed to himself. How had he been so blind in the past? Dumbledore was obviously up to something, he just couldn't put his finger on what.

The soft patter of footsteps down the hallway snapped Harry out of his thoughts, and learned instinct sprang his body into action. His Aunt Petunia was quickly approaching, no doubt having just dragged Vernon to bed, and would not be happy to catch him here. Quickly, Harry tossed his things together, stuffing the soiled washcloth into his pant pocket. He took a second to clean the counter up as best he could, unable to see any smudges or smears he may have created without the help of his glasses. Doing the best he could, he bolted from the bathroom.

It was with practiced skill that Harry ignored the pain in his body and the wishes of his protesting muscles as he dashed across the hall. Nimbly he dashed from one sturdy floorboard to the next, crossing the hallway in a matter of seconds. Once within the sanctuary of his room, he went to work shutting the door. Turning the knob he lifted the door as much as he could, not wanting the uneven frame to drag across around, he shut it quietly. Satisfied, he slowly released the knob and felt, rather than heard, the satisfying click of the door closing properly under his touch.

The moment the door was closed Harry relaxed, knowing from years of experience that Petunia hadn't heard his wandering about. In his younger years, Harry had hoped that Petunia's maternal instincts would have kicked in and caused her to show some form of affection for him. However, as his innocence fell away, Harry realized that her maternal instincts were present in full force, and he was a wolf in her hen house. To her, he was a danger to her normal family, and if letting her husband beat him senseless could rectify that, so be it.

It took a moment for the pain to ease its way from his limbs, but the moment he could manage it, Harry pulled himself away from the wall he had slumped against for support. Hedwig was happy to see him standing, bobbing her snowy head at him in greeting and fluttering her wings to attract his attention. Since Vernon started beating Harry, the bright owl hadn't made a sound while in the Dursley's home for fear of drawing Vernon's wrath to Harry.

"So that's it then Freak!" Vernon had yelled that night. "Hitting you makes the turkey shut up then does it? Well," Vernon snickered, an excited gleam in his eye. "Let's shut her up for a good long time then, shall we?"

Harry forced the memory from his mind, instead, nodding a greeting to Hedwig. "I need you to do something for me girl." He whispered to his feathered friend. "I need you to deliver some letters, and I need you to be back by morning, back in your cage."

Hedwig bobbed her head at him, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Obviously, she was excited about getting out of the house and stretching her wings.

With a hairpin he had stolen from his Aunt, Harry went to work at the padlock Vernon had placed on Hedwig's cage. The first time he had picked the lock it had taken him hours, but now, his well practiced fingers, while sore and in come cases broken, worked quickly at the task. In minutes, Hedwig was perched on the window sill ready to go.

"I just need to write them girl." Harry cooed to her softly, running a digit through the snowy plumage on her chest. "If you're fast girl, we won't have to be here tomorrow night."