The Boy Who Cried to the Moon
Disclaimer: Honestly, would I really be doing this if I owned Harry Potter?
Chapter One: The Tears He Cried
It was an unusual day Voldemort attacked the Potters. It was an unusual day when one year old Harry Potter left Voldemort as a mere spirit.
But don't you think it's unusual that a family treats the young Saviour as their slave...?
A young Harry Potter looked up to his Uncle. His glistening emerald eyes shining as his Uncle pointed at a plate that lay smashed on the floor, food dripped softly onto the once pristine tiles,
"I told you bacon, egg and sausages not bacon, egg and beans! You little twit!"
Harry's bottom lip quivered as he shied away from his angry, radish colored Uncle.
"Uh... U...Uncle I'm s...s... sorry!"
Harry groveled on the floor. His four year old body painfully thin, his messy black hair flopped lankly over emerald eyes and an unusual lightning bolt scar. He picked up the broken pieces of china that cut into his small hands. No gasp or sign of pain escaped him as the crimson liquid run down his hands. His Uncle watched him with small beady eyes, his double chins quivering as he waddled up to his Son and Wife. They laughed as the sight that presented them, a small boy running around to do their bidding.
The Dursley family smirked, the expression sickening on the Son and Husband and slightly pathetic on the Wife.
Once Harry redid the greedy, hateful family's food he walked back to his cupboard. Harry's shoulders drooped as he dejectedly opened his cupboard door.
He lay on the bundle of old rags that was meant to be a bed, tears flowed gently from Harry's eyes.
"Why me!"
He wailed over and over again, he could not comprehend why his so called 'relatives' treated him so badly. He put his hands to his grief stricken face as he cried until the flow slowly ebbed away. When he fell asleep he was haunted by nightmares.
"What a freak!"
"Can't you do anything right you little dimwit?"
And then of course there was the blinding flash of light, the high pitched laughter.
Harry always woke up with the tears that pooled in his eyes and dripped down his pale cheeks.
He hated how his family belittled him, how they haunted his dreams, how they made him hurt inside. He would always feel his heart shredding it self to pieces, his eyes would dull little by little at the snide insults and hurtful put downs.
"Will I ever be loved?"
The tiny four year old whispered in sorrow.
"Why... why!"
