Do I own Harry Potter? I don't think so, but if I do please tell me, that'd be awesome.

A/N Hi. This will be my first attempt at writing a fanfiction, and I'm just a 16 year old high school student who barely scrapes by in classes. As such, it will probably not be as good as the veteran's work, although I hope to get there someday. I appreciate any criticism, so if you think this fic is terrible, please tell me why.

I'm an avid reader of fanfictions, which is the main reason I'm doing this. I want to contribute to the wonderful community that has taken so many dozens of hours from my life. Some of my favorites are A Second Chance At Life(The entire trilogy), The Harem Wars, The Founder's Heir, and more whose titles escape me. If you haven't, I suggest reading them before reading this fic, as they are all very high quality, and in all likelihood miles ahead of what this fic will be.

So, on to my plans. You may have noticed a trend in the fanfictions listed above. I like Super-Harry fics. As such, this will be (Later on, I don't plan on Harry waking up on his 11th birthday ready to face the evils of the world) a fic where Harry has powers greater than (Most of) those around him. Of course, this means the villains will be equally, if not more so, powered.

*Don't read past here if you don't want minor spoilers on my plans*

Yes, this will be an evil Dumbledore fic, although this Dumbledore will be considerably darker than any I've seen before.

I will be doing an overhaul of sorts on magic. Yes, there will still be wands, spoken spells, and all that jazz, only it won't be all the magic used. I'll go more in depth on that when the time comes, wouldn't want to give away all my ideas at the start, would I? ;)

Thank you for reading this far, and please give me criticisms on anything you think need improvement.

Enough of this blabber, Let the story begin.

A young, scrawny boy awoke on a small, ragged bed. Well, bed might be a bit too kind of a term for it, as it was actually just a few old and torn blankets piled in a heap. The boy ran a hand through his hair, which was as dark as the plumage of a raven. The boy, whose name was either 'Freak', 'Bastard', or 'Boy', depending on his uncle's mood, stretched out his arms and immediately winced in pain. The beatings (If you could call them that as what his uncle did was more akin to torture) from yesterday still hurt, although much less than when they were inflicted.

Freak thought back to yesterday, when a stupid misstep of his caused yet another of his uncle's savage beatings. It had been even worse than usual, although at least his aunt had not helped this time. While his uncle inflicted the most pain out of the people in his 'Family', at least he was predictable. A few broken bones, dozens of bruises, perhaps a bit of internal bleeding, it was always the same. While some days (Like yesterday, when his uncle dislocated his shoulder) he varied things up a bit, his aunt was a wild card. She enjoyed knives, sticks, forks, anything sharp or pointy really. While she did not participate often, when she did, it was always especially bad. Freak shuddered as he remembered the time when his Aunt decided to poke his eyes out with the short end of an old spoon. His eyesight had never been quite the same after that.

True, his aunt was not always that bad, but when she got involved he usually lost an appendage or two. Freak usually kept his head down and crept quietly around Number Four, Privet Drive, hoping to not be noticed by either his aunt or his uncle. Of course, when they noticed him they beat or otherwise maimed him. The worst part was that by the morning, his wounds were usually all perfectly healed (Except for really severe injuries like an eye poked out or an appendage cut off, those took a bit longer.) which only served to infuriate his relatives further.

Freak sighed and looked around the room, which was actually just a small cupboard with barely enough room to stand in. It wouldn't be enough room for an adult, or even an average 10-year-old, but because of how sparsely he was fed, he was short for his age, standing a meager 3'8. The cupboard used to have more headroom, but his uncle had decided that it was bad for a child to have so much space, so he nailed a board that cut off nearly a third of the headroom. Not that Freak minded, as the time that his uncle spent putting up a board was not time spent with his favorite nephew.

Again Freak sighed, rubbing the sleep out of his muddy green eyes. His eyes used to be green, he remembered, but when his aunt had discovered her love of all things that poke they had changed to be almost more of a dark, diluted red than green, possibly a side effect of them being regrown so much.

Freak knew today would be a bad day. When he was young, and still allowed to go to school, he learned how many days were in a year. 365, or 365.25 to be exact, which resulted in a leap year every 4 years, Freak thought with a small smile. He had made a sort of calendar, based off the one he remembered from school, under his bed. Since he usually woke before his relatives, he had time to quickly scratch out a day with an old nail he had found buried in the garden. Today was the day he dreaded most, ever since he was 8. Today was Dudley's 2nd birthday since the incident.

Dudley had been an oddity to Freak. He neither hit Freak nor cut him, in fact the most Dudley had ever done to him was hurl insults, and even then it was just to satisfy his parent's need for Freak to feel pain. Dudley had even gone so far as to slip him food on occasion, something that Freak was wary of at first, fearing a trap, but eventually accepted with a cautious gratitude.

Dudley had been the only person who Freak would have considered a friend. When Dudley's parents started to get violent on his seventh birthday (Before that it had been purely verbal, no matter how mad they got it was like something stopped them from inflicting physical harm) Dudley was the one who helped him, bandaged his wounds, and stayed with him while his injuries slowly healed. It had been Dudley who, in an act that Freak would always appreciate, had reported the abuse to the principal of the school he went to.

At first, much to Dudley's dismay, no one would believe that upstanding citizens like Petunia and Vernon Dursley could ever commit the atrocities that Dudley described. In fact, no one had anything but a vague recollection of the cousin that Dudley described. (Freak had been pulled from school on his seventh birthday) They knew there was a boy, and he had gone to school some time ago, but no one could remember his face, or name. Even Dudley had trouble remembering Freak's name and usually just referred to him as 'Cousin'.

Dudley tried everything, went to the police, firemen, anyone he saw as an authority figure. They all did the same thing, patted him on the head and laughed at a child's overactive imagination. Eventually Dudley started provoking his parents, hoping that they would do to him as they did to his cousin.

For reasons neither Dudley nor Freak could understand, Petunia and Vernon were completely different people around their son. They always dotted over him, gave in to his every whim. Whenever Dudley brought up the subject of Freak, their eyes flashed with anger, and they kindly told him that Freak was not something their Diddykins should worry about, and spoke no more about it. No matter how Dudley tried, the elder Dursleys never displayed any form on hostility to their son.

Eventually Dudley realized that his efforts were useless, and that nothing would happen unless he could provide proof. After discussing the issue with his cousin, Dudley decided to provide the proof that he needed. His cousin protested, not wanting his cousin to face the same pain he faced. Dudley disregarded all protests.

At first Dudley did small things, hitting himself, falling on purpose to cause obvious bruises. These worked, to an extent, but it was not Dudley was going for. He wanted both him and his cousin taken away from this awful place. It was this hope, that they could get somewhere better, that caused Dudley to pull what Freak thought was the single most stupid thing he had ever experienced.

Dudley decided to jump off of the roof of the house.

He did this at night, where he was sure no one could see what actually happened. Of course, Dudley only wanted to do this once, so he decided to jump head first.

This was the last time Freak ever saw Dudley Dursley.

Dudley was in a coma for over a month, and the doctors were not sure he would make it. His parents were distraught, and of course took out their frustration out on Freak. Freak thought he suffered more bones broken, fractured, or otherwise disabled during that month than he had in all the time since his 7th birthday. It was also the first time his aunt had participated in the beatings, and subsequently discovered her love of all things sharp or pointy.

When Dudley awoke it was the happiest Freak could ever remember feeling before. The feeling was shared by Petunia and Vernon, and they immediately rushed over to the hospital. Unfortunately for them, they weren't the only ones going to that particular hospital.

As soon as the Dursleys arrived at the hospital, they were apprehended by a policeman on charges of child abuse. Dudley had achieved his goal, and he would soon be taken away to live in a foster home.

The case against the Dursleys seemed easy, a clear cut instance of child abuse, complete with a testimony from the child. The case proceeded normally, and everything seemed to be in order. There were only two oddities with the case. One was the fact that the child who was abused continually testified that there was another child, despite no records showing so. These testimonies stopped after the boy met with an attorney, and the other child was mentioned no more.

The second oddity was the sentence. One would assume that a case like this would involve jail time, but somehow the Dursleys got off with a stiff fine, and having Dudley put into a foster home. The entire incident wasn't even talked about, despite much more minor issues were talked about for days by the housewives of Privet Drive.

Life proceeded like normal for the residents of Privet Drive, minus one small boy who seemed to be pushed to the brink of death daily. Not many noticed the disappearance of Dudly Dursely, and those who did didn't seem to care.

And today was the day the Durselys remembered the loss of their son, and took out their grief on Freak, of course. The 23rd of June was not a good day to be Freak.

Freak sighed yet again, slowly getting up. His shoulder hurt like hell, and was not fully recovered from his uncle's work. Of course, he hurt all over, but pain on that level didn't bother Freak, after all he had been through.

Freak got and silently opened the cupboard door, trying not to wake his aunt or uncle. He hoped to do his chores quietly and be able to slink quietly, unnoticed into the darkness of his cupboard, where he would stay until the day was done. He had no such luck.

As he glided into the kitchen, he noticed something odd. The living room light was on. Freak knew that he would be blamed for wasting electricity if his relatives found out, so he went to turn it off. What he saw next would forever be burned into his mind, and Freak would consider it the scariest scene imaginable for many years.

His uncle was sitting in the love chair. His eyes were wide, and locked on Freak. In his hand was something that struck fear into Freak's heart. In his hand was a can of cheap beer, and was surrounded by empty bottles and cans.

Freak's uncle did not drink much, but when he did it was never good.

Freak remembered four times when his uncle drank. The first was when he was six, and his uncle had been fired from his job for sexually harassing an intern. This was before the physical violence started, so the abuse was purely verbal. That's not to say it was easy. All manner of horrid things were said to Freak, who had been huddled in a ball crying for the majority of it. His uncle had said that Freak's mother was an STD ridden harlot who would fuck anything with a pulse if there was money in it for her, and that the only reason she didn't abort him was that she hoped to get some of his father's money. His father wasn't called much better, apparently he was the heir of a considerable family fortune, but since he was a no good layabout he spent it all on gambling, whores, booze, and drugs. His uncle had said that his father with a needle in his arm, in a cheap apartment, the only place he could afford to live after spending his family's fortune.

That was not all that was said, but it is what hurt Freak the most. Was it true? Did his parents truly not want him; did he deserve to be called all these awful things by his uncle?

The second and third time his uncle was caught drinking was after his uncle lost particularly bad in gambling. Freak would later wonder how his uncle got the money to gamble, as his uncle still had not gotten a job after being fired. Both of these times were after his 7th birthday, and each time Freak was beaten within an inch of his life. Each incident took over a week for Freak to be able to move again, and worse was that they happened only two weeks from each other, leaving little time to recover fully.

The fourth was the day after Dudley jumped from the roof. This one was by far the worst, taking over a month for a full recovery. Vernon decided that since his son had to fall from the roof, so should Freak. And so he picked Freak up, climbed to the roof of his house , and threw Freak downward with all the force he could muster. Vernon repeated this process three more times, although Freak had fainted by the second one.

Remembering these incidents, Freak dropped his eyes to the ground and tried to walk off.

"Boy." Vernon was a large man, with a deep voice to match. It was a voice Freak had come to dread, as it always brought with it pain.

"Come here; come see your old uncle. Come now, I won't bite!" Freak's uncle laughed loudly and drunkenly. He motioned for Freak to take the seat next to him.

Freak was wary; his uncle had never behaved like this before, even when drunk. Freak warily walked towards his uncle and took the seat next to him, his entire body tense.

"Now boy, don't look so scared now! It's just your old" Vernon burped loudly "uncle! And you're my son now, ain't ya!"

Freak look confused, his uncle was behaving too strangely, it was too weird, his uncle was supposed to be predictable, he should only beat Freak, not invite him to sit.

"You are my son, AREN'T YA!?" Vernon's voice rose to a deafening level as he shouted the last words, his face getting red.

Freak gave a small nod; His uncle shouldn't do this, he should hit Freak, not talk to him, refer to him as a son.

Vernon looked pleased with the nod and leaned back into his chair, chuckling softly.

"Yes son, ever since poor Dudley left us you're the boy of the house now, we should pamper ya, shouldn't we?" When Vernon didn't get an answer he screamed at the top of his lungs "SHOULDN' WE!"

Freak again gave a small nod, noticing the slurring of his uncle's words getting more and more intense.

"Boy, ya got a tongue, dontcha? Or do I need ta come over there an teac' ya'!?"

Freak gave a small shudder and said as quietly as he could "Yes sir."

Vernon got up and stood over Freak, put his pudgy hand to his ear, indication that he couldn't hear.

"Yes Sir." Freak again said, a bit louder.

Again Vernon held his hand to his ear, with his spare hand grabbing a discarded bottle of beer, and brandished it menacingly at Freak.

"Yes Sir!" Freak yelled in a panicked voice.

Vernon started chuckling, a hearty chuckle that seemed to come from the depths of his stomach. Soon the chuckles turned to outright laughter, causing him to lean over, gasping for breath.

Vernon suddenly looked up, still laughing. He locked eyes with Freak. The last thing Freak saw before his world became a blur of pain was an insane glint in those cold brown eyes.

Vernon, quick as a snake, smashed the bottle against Freak's temple, and dragged him to the ground. Vernon got on top of him and started stabbing at him with the broken bottle.

"THINK YERE MY SON, EH!? NO! YOU KILLED HIM! YOU KILLED DUDLEY!" Vernon roared, his face going purple in his rage. He continued hitting Freak for a minute before forcing open Freak's mouth.

"THINK YEW CAN TELL ME YER MY SON!? THINK YEW CAN TRICK ME!? I'LL FIX THAT!" Vernon screamed, and reached as far as his pudgy hand could into Freak's mouth, and got a firm grip on his tongue, stabbing his fingernails into the soft flesh.

"I'LL FIX YA! I'LL FIX YA!" Vernon continued to scream, while pulling at the tongue with all his strength.

Freak was in pain, the worst pain he had ever felt. His face felt as if it was on fire, with pieces of glass imbedded in his face and eyes, his back burning from being forced down on more glass, and the worst being the ripping of his tongue. Before he had simply passed out, yet this time his body rebelled, forcing him to feel every detail of his torture.

Freak felt something welling up inside him, something coming out. With a surge his uncle flew off of him, crashing into the ceiling and then down to the floor next to Freak.

Without thinking Freak did something he had never done before, he ran. He had to leave this place, these people, the ones who hurt him so much, who had taken his only friend from him. He ran, wrenched open the door and ran outside. The cool night air burned on his bloody face, and he ran.

Or would have run. Freak got to the mailbox, the boundary of the property, and faltered. Why was he doing this, Vernon would find him, he always found him. Running will only make it worse, he should go back, go back and hope that his uncle will not be too harsh. Yes, running would be bad, he thought as he stopped. Freak turned around and saw a large figure in the doorway.

Vernon was in the doorway, huffing and puffing, bleeding everywhere. In his hands was the shotgun that Vernon always kept under the counter in the kitchen.

Time seemed to slow. Vernon looked at Freak with an insane look in his eyes. Freak saw the eye twitch, the muscle pull that indicated Vernon was pulling the trigger. He heard the click, then the roar of gunfire. He saw the pellets moving towards him at a seemingly lazy place, and saw them impact his torso.

After that, Freak saw no more.

A/N My first chapter of my first fic. Yay.

The rest of the fic won't be quite as gruesome as this, and all will be explained next chapter.

I'm not really happy with the legal section, and have no clue how law works in UK, so I based it off my knowledge of US courts.

Thanks for reading my first fic, next chapter will come out soon.