Harry of number 4 Privet Drive crouched, shivering and hiding in the bushes at the park near his house. It was cold and well past the time he should be home to start cooking dinner for the Dursley family. He knew his aunt and uncle would be furious with him, but he hadn't been able to get home yet. Dudley and his friends were playing their new favorite game of Harry Hunting and he hadn't been able to get away from them yet. He needed to make sure he wouldn't get hurt since the last time he had gotten blood on the carpet, Aunt Petunia had nearly skinned his hide.

Perhaps it wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't been starving. The last time Uncle Vernon had allowed him food had been almost 4 days ago. He was tired, hungry, cold, and almost dead on his feet.

As shivers wrecked his small form, Harry's brilliant jade green eyes observed the park intensely. Though they were the wrong prescription and covered by scratched lenses, his second-hand, taped up glasses did the best they could in allowing the young boy to see. And see he did.

Harry Potter was only seven years old and already he had experienced and seen more than any boy his age should have. Still the size of a four or five year old, the young boy often looked sick and frail. His skin was a shade or two too light, his eyes had bags underneath them, and his hands were cut up and scarred from years of hard work. No child should have looked as he did. And yet the small boy was often accused of laziness or spoiled behavior by his relatives and teachers.

No one saw Harry as he was; a young boy, abused by those who were supposed to love and care for him.

Lonely and sad, said boy was too terrified to move. As the early November air once more caused bumps to erupt across exposed skin, young Harry shivered and tried to wrap himself more fully in his oversized and smelly shirt. The fabric was too thin -even layered as it was- to give any sufficient warmth, but he did his best. It's all he knew how to do. And yet his best was never enough.

Suddenly, a rustling in the bushes to his left caused Harry to jerk back from his position and stumble onto the hard ground beneath him. Gasping, Harry's head snapped to the side. Squinting, he saw no one and nothing jumped out at him. He didn't know what must have caused the sounds but he took it as a sign that he could not stay in his hiding space forever.

"Freak!" called his fat cousin. "You can't hide forever!"

If only he could have, he thought.

Staying crouched low to the ground, Harry crawled back into the bushes intent on waiting until Dudley worn himself out. It would be soon, Harry figured, since Dudley hadn't eaten since lunch. The fat boy always demanded to eat five to six times a day. Harry himself wouldn't even know what to do with that much food.

Harry shook his head in disbelief. Even thinking about food made his head spin.

Glancing down, he discovered a book. Confused, he picked it up and held it between both hands. It hadn't been there before he was sure of it. But then, where had it come from?

He was a smart boy despite what his relatives sneered at him. Harry knew that what his relatives called freakishness was something else entirely. He hadn't had a word for it until he stumbled across a book on card tricks in the school library. He had taken to hiding out there since Dudley seemed to have a blatant fear of learning.

What sometimes happened was magic. He didn't know why it happened or what would come of it, but he did know that much at least.

Unlike his relatives, magic had never hurt Harry. He liked it because whenever it happened, he felt safe or happy. Like when he was running last week from Dudley and his friends. He was so scared and his side was already hurting from previous kicks that when he was mentally screaming for help, between one blink and another, he found himself on the roof of the school. While he hadn't been able to get down, he had never felt safer out of the reach of his cousin, his aunt, his uncle, and every other adult who didn't care about him.

Of course that event was what led him to his current starving episode. His uncle, after a big meaty fist head slammed into his head, threw him in his cupboard and only let him out for chores and the twice-daily bathroom visit.

The book between small hands was thin and looked brand new. Harry ran small fingers over the cover reverently. He had never had something so new in his grasp before. And despite being on the ground of a dirty playground, the book did not have a speck of dirt on it.

It was made of leather and was deep red in color. On it was gold trim and lettering, declaring it The Labyrinth for all to see. Entranced, Harry just stared at the book. It was beautiful and smelt both as if it was decades-old but had only been made yesterday. The leather was warn soft as if used many times over its lifetime.

He was jolted from his trance by the sound of a too-familiar voice.

"Oi, freak!"

Hunched over as he was, Harry slipped the book into his pants and then quickly into his underpants since it would have fallen out of his cousins second hand shorts. Without hesitating, Harry dashed from his hiding spot and ran as fast as his legs could carry him. He hoped with everything in him that he could get home safely.

But it was not to be.

One of Dudley's gang members grabbed him by the scruff of his t-shirt and yanked him back. He was thrown to the ground amidst the sound of laughter.

His last thought not pertaining to pain for the next 20 minutes was, 'I wish I wasn't here.'