Chapter one

Harry Potter was not a happy person. He was most definitely not liked by friends or loved by his family. In fact, he had no friends. All of the children he knew that were his age avoided him like the plague. His family hated him. He was routinely beaten, given chores, and when he couldn't finish all of the chores because he was sore from being beaten, he was beat some more. This routine had started when he was four and had continued for six years. All of this led to the same thing. He was not a happy person. And harry potter not being a happy person led to, well nothing really. No one cared if harry was happy or not. All his family wanted from him was the list of chores he was given in the morning be done before he was sent to bed. He had no friends, so they couldn't care. If harry potter had been a normal person, this would have likely resulted in severe depression and a plethora of psychological disorders. But Harry Potter wasn't a normal person. Harry Potter was an elemental. Not that he knew that or anything. But it would change the way he would grow up substantially.

At the tender age of ten, being an elemental meant one thing and one thing only. The shit storm is coming and it is coming fast. Elementals had a tendency of exuberantly displaying their elements (read as blowing up anything nearby in a very explosive manner) on their eleventh birthday. Normally this can be contained by other elementals, usually other family members. However, the Dursley's weren't elementals. So, once Harry's eleventh birthday came around, it was very likely that the Dursley's would die a very painful death. That is of course, if the Dursley's didn't kill him first. Which given the current situation, was far more likely.

Harry was currently curled into the fetal position on the ground, where he was being viciously kicked by Vernon Dursley his uncle. This particular beating had been going on for some time now. Vernon and his son Dudley would alternate between kicking while he was down and holding him up and beating him with a baseball bat. All the while Petunia Dursley would watch closely and occasionally offer Vernon or Dudley some water.

"Vernon, sweetie, I'm not too sure the freak is going to live through this one. Shouldn't we stop for now?" Petunia asked of her incredibly fat husband.

"Absolutely not! I'm sick and tired of this pathetic freak eating our food and drinking our water! Once we're finished we're going to take the body to London and drop him in an alley or something. No one will think twice about another dead body in some of those neighborhoods." The fat ass responded to his stick thin and pale wife, who simply nodded as if her disgusting whale of a husband had told her the weather.

'Finally, I'm getting away from these wretched people' was Harry's only thought on his impending death before fading into unconsciousness.

Sabine Rivan was a happy person. He didn't have a family anymore, being an only child and his parents and grandparents being dead and all, but he had several close friends whom he treasured greatly. This, as well as the fact that he was fairly wealthy from his inheritance, led to the happy person that he is. He was currently leaving one of the aforementioned friends' flat in London and returning to his own flat a few blocks away. All in all, Sabine Rivan seemed very different from Harry Potter. There is however, one thing that they both share. Sabine Rivan is also an elemental. A very powerful water-earth one to be precise.

Of course, Sabine Rivan doesn't know that Harry Potter even exists, so his mind was not comparing the two of them to see what they had in common. In fact, his mind was debating what he was going to have for breakfast in the morning. He had narrowed the options down to either a cinnamon swirl bagel with blueberry cream cheese or chocolate chip waffles when he saw the comparatively large bundle of something lying by the corner of the road across the street. His curiosity getting the better of him again, he ambled over to check it out.

Upon reaching the bundle of something Sabine decided that the something was either a large dog, or a very small person wrapped in a coarse moving blanket. Sabine knelt down, and began to gingerly unwrap the moving blanket.

'My God, is that a kid? Better question might be is he dead?' Sabine thought after removing the moving blanket and discovering what appeared to be a dead boy, no older than eight at the most. Sabine felt for a pulse on the boy's throat.

'Thank God. He's alive. Barely, but I can fix that. Hopefully.' Sabine looked at the boy at his feet. He looked around, and, not seeing anyone, created a bed of water to carry the boy on. Sabine set a swift pace towards his flat, which, fortunately was very close. He got him inside, laid him on the couch in his living room and began the semi-laborious of healing the boy as best he can.

Harry was confused. Not only was he awake, he didn't seem to be dead either. Unless being dead meant he got to spend eternity in what looked like a small living room. And being sore. He was fairly sure being dead meant he couldn't feel pain. So, therefore, it was likely that he was alive, as unfortunately miraculous as that was. Deciding against moving, he figured that whoever had "rescued him probably lived here so they would also likely show their face eventually. And so he squirmed a bit, and wrapped his arms around himself for a little bit of added warmth and waited.

Sabine was a little confused. He was studying the boy, and while he wasn't the best child psychologist, he was fairly sure that kids don't normally wake up in a strange place and NOT at least call for their parents or something. Yet the boy on his couch had simply hugged himself and seemed to be waiting for Sabine to make himself known and explain things to him.

'He's acting a lot like the ice elementals I know. Waiting for information instead of just acting. I wonder if he's actually an elemental. I'd have to test him to find out; there is no way he's old enough for his powers to have materialized. But why was he dropped into that alley half dead? What could he have possibly done to deserve that kind of treatment? Hmmm. Well, it's not like I can stand here forever. Might as well start our conversation now.' With that thought in his head, he walked into the injured boy's sight.

"Hey. How are you feeling?"

Harry, more than a little startled at the suddenness of the voice, twisted his head to see him. Or tried anyways. Moving his head at all created large amounts of pain. Very large amounts. Obscenely large amounts. So much that, when combined with his shock from hearing Sabine speak resulted in, unsurprisingly, Harry's fall into unconsciousness. Again.

"Hmmm. I guess that means not good. Not good at all. I should probably call Ter and see if he can do a better job healing the poor boy than I can." And with that, Sabine walked over to the kitchen counter, picked up the phone, and called Ter.