Chapter 1- The dursleys
Young harry potter sat in his cupboard under the stairs, and cradled his broken arm gently to his bruised and battered chest. He winced as the rough material of his shirt rubbed against the purple welts on his bony back. He drew in a raspy breath, and slowly let it out, the oxygen burning the inside of his lungs. He began to sob, quietly, for he knew all too well what the penalty for making noise was.
Harry wondered why he was a freak, and if anyone could ever care for an abnormal boy like him. Harry wished with all his heart that one day somebody would come, and love him as their own son. But harry knew that it was just not possible. The dursleys had made sure of that. They had been sure to never even hint to the other neighbours of Privet Drive to the existence of the broken child in their care. Nobody was coming for him. Ever.
They had instead sung praises of their own child, Dudley, who resembled more closely that of a small whale or elephant than a child. Dudley took sadistic pleasure in harry pain, and never missed a chance to get the small, black haired child in trouble, or to beat him until he was a bloody miss.
Harrys latest punishment had been the result of him quietly requesting a piece of bread from his aunt. She had been furious with him.
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"What are you doing?" a furious voice cut through the air, and harry froze in terror. He opened his mouth to speak, but, as if knowing how useless if would be, he hung his head in a submissive stance. "We feed you and cloth you and this is how you repay us?! BY STEALING OUR FOOD? HOW DARE YOU?" Petunias shrill voice became louder and higher until she was screaming at the 8 year old.
"I'm j...just so...o hungry" Harry stuttered, wishing he had someone that would save him.
"HOW DARE YOU BOY? JUST LIKE YOUR FREAKY, WORTHLESS PARENTS. They got what they deserved, and now you will be getting what you deserve. BY the end of today, you will be sorry you were ever born." Petunia smirked viciously at this, and an evil glint glistened through her eyes.
She reached out, drew her hand back, and brought it down on Harrys dirt marred check. The fragile child stood unflinchingly still, as he had painstakingly been taught to do during beatings. Petunia lunged at the boy, and grabbed his wrist in an iron grip, that would defiantly be leaving bruises.
By now, harry was a mess. Tears were coursing down the little ones cheeks, and his face was clenched in pain. A dark green, purple colour had already graced his angelic face, making it bruised and discoloured.
Immediately, she dragged him unmercifully towards the stove. Petunia pulled the childs hand, and pressed if hard onto the burning stove. She held it there far a full10 seconds, making sure it would scar beautifully, ignoring harry anguished screams of pain.
"P...Please. P...P...please a...aunt pet...petunia," harry cried in terror, but his plies went unnoticed.
Once she was sure harry would be sporting a bruise for the rest of his life, petunia let go of her nephews wrist, and threw him into the hall. Get into your cupboard boy, and when he gets home, I assure you, your uncle will deal with you properly.
Harry crawled to the back of his cupboard, and curled into a ball. He was terrified. Harry knew that uncle Vernon's punishment would make aunt Petunias seem like love pats. The door to the cupboard slammed shut, and the vent was closed. Harry trembled in anticipation of what was coming.