Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, blah, blah, blah.

Warning: This story has cannibalism, child neglect, abuse, rape and massive character deaths. If you don't like any of them, then I suggest you get out or get some guts.

This is the first fan fiction I ever wrote. I hope you like it! I might not update every single day, like my other two stories, though. I'm in the middle of finals and I have an essay for Wednesday. I promise that by then, if not sooner, the next chapter will be up. Thank you for your patience.

Also, I just read a review for "In the mind of a teenage psychopath". I have a message for Kill Mary Sue: I don't mind your opinion about cutters; I think they shouldn't kill themselves though. There IS something called a psychiatrist to help them you know. Fine. BUT DON'T YOU TELL ME TO GIVE UP MY DREAMS! HELLO! I'M 18 YEARS OLD! MOST 18 YEAR OLDS ARE A LITTLE CRAZY! I just haven't mature enough yet. You can't tell me what I can't or cannot accomplish with MY life. On the positive side, now I have yet another reason to become a surgeon, TO SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH UP! Don't get me the wrong way Kill Mary Sue, I respect your opinion, but you don't know me at all. The only things you know about me are what I tell you, and do you know if they are true? I don't think so.

Sorry for the rest of the readers, is just that I had to speak my mind. Also, if you don't like my story, fine. But don't you fucking dare to insult me or my dreams. Are we clear?

Chapter 1: What made me who I am

I'm not a good man; I have committed horrible sins, sins that will never be forgiven. Now that I 'm here at Azkaban, I can see the truth. But it is too late for me to change back to the boy-who-lived. Let me tell you the story of my life.

As you already know, I was born in England thirty years ago, to Lily and James Potter. Everything was perfect for the three of us, until that good for nothing bastard, Voldemort, murdered my parents. Unfortunately, I survived and that bastard gave me this cursed scar. Truth is, when I was younger I used to wish that I had died alongside my parents. Soon you'll know why. Anyway, afterwards I was sent to live with my aunt, uncle and that whale they call a son, Dudley. Big mistake. That's when the nightmare I have had to call 'Life' began.

As soon as they entered me inside their home, the abuse began. They would feed me once a day, bathe me once a week (with cold water even on winter), and hit me every time I cried. My room was the cupboard under the stairs and it was until I was eleven.

When I was old enough to satnd straight, they made me wash dishes and clothes; they made me sweep and mop the floors when I was two and a half, right after my uncle told how my parents died.

He said that they had died during a car accident, that my dad's head was stuck on the steering wheel, with both his eyes out (his body was sitting straight up, thanks to the seat belt), while my mother's body had been cut in half by the car's motor. He then said that she died protecting me, that if it hadn't been for me, she would still be alive. Do any of you have any idea what kind of psychological damage something like that can do to a TWO AND A HALF YEAR OLD? I DO!

For a while, being the naive little boy I was, I thought that they did those things to me because they loved me. But, of course, I had to find out the truth, didn't I?

It was my third birthday, I didn't get any presents, let alone a party, not even a piece of cake. I thought they had forgotten. At night, my aunts said: "Go get a couple of story books, I'll read them to you", so I went and got one, right after my cousin took like five. I waited downstairs until she finished reading Dudley his stories and had tucked him in. When she came down to lock me in, I said to her: "Aunt Petunia? I know you forgot my birthday, but I only wanted to be red a story or at least be tucked in like Dudley." She began laughing and then said something, that even today, haunts me and sometimes, even makes me cry. "Read you a story? Tuck you in? Forget your birthday? Pathetic, worthless little boy. We didn't forget your birthday; We just didn't care. You're freak, no one will ever love you. You are nothing but a slave here. You should have died alongside your parents, you worthless piece of trash!"

Since then, I lost all hope of ever being treated with love, let alone a human being, by those who should care for me the most: My own family.

Things got worse. I lost my virginity when I was 3; My uncle raped me. At first, he did it once a month, then once a week. It kept up until I got to Hogwarts. For the first time I was free

of being hit and specially of being raped. There I made friends and enemies ( the Slytherins and their Head of House, Snape), I found out the truth about my parents death ( they were murdered by Voldemort, or 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named', like you, pathetic wizards, call that murderer). I also got to fight him in the end; I won, he lost, end of story. Except for that, the time I spent at Hogwarts was the happiest I had ever been. But like always, life is a bitch. And all good things must come to an end.

Summer arrived and I ended up with the Dursleys again. Now they kept me locked up in Dudley's tiny, second room. Well, at least it had a window. I was only allowed to go out twice a day: Once to go to the bathroom and take a bath and once to get raped by my uncle. Yes, now I got raped daily. Thank goodness Ron and the twins came and got me out of the hellhole. I have never been happier to see another human being in my life

Once again, the school year began. This time, people were being petrified and everyone thought it was my doing, just because I speak Parseltongue. They changed their minds when Hermione got petrified. It was all Voldemort, through Ginny and that damned diary.

And once again I had to go back 'home'. My uncle locked me up again in that tiny room. This time, he raped me twice a day. And to top it all up, his damn bitch of a sister had to come visit. She thought that I went to St. Brutus because my uncle made me tell her that. I'm glad she insulted my mother, too. I got to use magic on her and blew her like a blimp. She flew like one too. I ran away that same day; ended up in the Leaky Cauldron for the rest of the summer.

My third year was the best of the five years I had at Hogwarts. Our Defense Against Dark Arts professor was a werewolf and former friend of my father, Remus J. Lupin. He was the one that thought me the Patronus Charm. That same year I found out I had a godfather, who was sent to Azkaban thanks to that bastard, Pettigrew. I'm glad that asshole is dead. For a little while I thought that I was going to be free from the Dursleys now that Sirius was going to be able to clear his name, but NO! Pettigrew just had to escape! Well, at least I had a way to scare the living hell out of my aunt and uncle.

As for my last two years at Hogwarts, everyone knows about that. It was all over the Daily Prophet, all about the Tri Wizard Tournament, Cedric's death and how Voldemort came back to power, all thanks to Pettigrew. Also, everyone knows about Voldemort entering the Ministry of Magic fifteen years ago. What you don't know is that during our little fight at the Ministry of Magic, my godfather, Sirius Black, was murdered by his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange. HOW I HATE THAT BITCH! And why all this happened? Why my godfather died? BECAUSE I COULDN'T TELL THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A DREAM AND A FAKE VISION PUT IN MY HEAD AT MURDERER! But Sirius wasn't the only that died that day. I also died alongside him. Well, at least my sanity did.

There. First chapter done. Now review. And if you flame me you better make sure you don't make it personal, GOT IT?