AN: I apologize this for being a bit short, but its just the first chapter which I plan on the chapters to be longer. Hope you like it and R&R. As this is just the start.

I own nothing but the plot as everything else goes to their deserving creators.

~NicoDiAngeloLover7

Harry was in shock as numbness ran through his body. None of Ron's encouragement gave the eleven year old any hope, if anything it created more dread. He knew that Gryffindor House would never forgive him. The cold treatment gave Harry enough proof to justify the assumption from his own teammates on the Quidditch team. How they came to the conclusion that Harry was the perpetrator was beyond comprehension for the three first years. But as always in Hogwarts, rumors start to fly and soon everybody in the school knows. Harry didn't start to worry until minor spells were cast at him through the corridors became curses, then the Boy-Who-Lived really started to worry. Harry never bothered to listen to the rumors from all the houses behind the reasoning for loss of the one-hundred and fifty points in one night, one sounding more ridiculous than the next. Though Harry caught parts of a Hufflepuff telling his mates that he had been caught practicing Dark Magic, while Ravenclaws discussed that the young Potter had a secret alliance with Slytherin that McGonagall found out about. Why anyone would lose points over a friendship with another house was ridiculous at the very thought. Naturally not only did the Gryffindors hate the potter Heir, but the houses of eagles and badgers carried the same emotions. Ironic that it is the House of Serpents that were civil to the eleven year old. If you don't count the young Malfoy and his two goons. You'd almost think the Slytherins felt pity for Harry's tribulations by three-fourths of the Hogwarts population. In a way they did because of one simple rule that was kept close. Protect one another, especially our fellow first-years.

The young Gryffindor had lost count how many times he'd been targeted by his own house. Where his two friends were left alone whose protests fell on deaf ears. All but two individuals in their third year, which did not include prefects. Two thirteen year-old boys with vibrant-red hair that were twins became the only Gryffindor supporters. The twins aided Harry, but only in Quidditch practice from being forced off his Nimbus; due to the fact they're two years older and were never seen in the corridors. Most days Harry would feel confused about his surroundings upon waking in an abandoned classroom. Not only were the days in school with Dudley repeating, but most of the days he couldn't remember. Harry never had to worry about his own classmates as they only ignored his presence. The older students in Gryffindor were more daring as they were the reason why Harry feared being in the corridors. The young Potter couldn't go to a teacher and report it only to be announced as a liar, Professor McGonagall proved that. A teacher that was known to be protective of her Lions had been the biggest let down and the assumption grew that every professor would react the same. As the scene with the Transfiguration teacher replayed in his mind.

"I'll catch up with you guys in the Great Hall," Harry whispered to Ron and Hermione as the rose from their seats. Minerva soon noticed her classroom wasn't as empty as she thought. Yes, Mr. Potter?"

Harry grew nervous as he bit his bottom lip, all his life teachers had never believed him. Maybe here at Hogwarts was different. "Professor McGonagall, these past few weeks I've been attacked by my own house." Harry's voice had started out shy and grew confident as Minerva's eyes narrowed. "I've been attacked and cursed almost everyday and I've lost count of how many times I've been sent to the Hospital Wing."

Minerva's nostrils were flaring at the accusation towards her house. "That's a very serious accusation, Mr. Potter. Gryffindor would never attack one of their fellow students and I can't believe you would lie about your own house. I would never thought I would agree with Severus that you would lie just to get attention. Twenty points from Gryffindor, it should be more but I'm not going to punish my house for your actions."

It was these words that Harry lost all respect for the woman in front of him. He lost all hope that he would be protected as his eyes grew sharp. His voice was gone as he remained in shock, like he expected the harsh words from the Potions Master... not his Head of House. Harry couldn't imagine what lied in store for when the Gryffindors noticed more rubies missing from the hour glass. Almost running from the room and McGonagall herself as Harry searched for no destination. Even if the first year was paying attention he would have never seen the red bolt of light from a stunning spell aimed at the back of his head. Instantly collapsing to the floor in a tiny heap as the two fifth-year Gryffindors stop at his frozen form. His friend silently stowed his wand back into his robes as a harsh kick struck the young boy's side as a Muggle assault.

The Gryffindors left without a sound not noticing the young, olive-skinned Slytherin watching the scene unfold. He held an unreadable expression as he walked towards the unconscious Gryffindor. His dark eyes were hard as he hesitated to touch the boy as if a Hufflepuff was lurking around. With nobody in sight did the Slytherin boy pull Harry's limp arm around his shoulders as he crouched down to the floor. Harry's head lolled to the side as the Slytherin let the Gryffindor's boy weight press against his side. It was like the boy's weight was light as feathers as the first year Slytherin walked slowly to the Hospital Wing. There was the discovery that the young Potter had two cracked ribs before Madam Pomfrey eased a few gulps of Skele-Grow down his throat. The young Slytherin never said his name as he gazed intently at the Boy-Who-Lived before leaving without a swish of his black cloak with a lining of green.

No words were spoken when Harry returned to the Common Room after Ron and Hermione brought food from the Great Hall like it was routine. To the displeasure of Madam Pomfrey did she give permission to release the young Potter back to classes. Like all previous visits to Pomfrey's ward did Harry leave her with more questions than answers. Harry could see Hermione wanted to ask, yet was shushed by a look from Ron. The raven-haired Gryffindor didn't want to listen to Hermione's nagging about informing a teacher. There was nothing to tell as the facts only showed an eleven year-old suddenly appearing in the Hospital Wing with his sides radiating a dull ache. Someone had helped the Gryffindor where others would have left him unconscious in the corridor on the first floor; a journey that is five floors apart with moving staircases.

Hermione and Ron attempted to distract Harry from his daily worries. Yet Harry couldn't concentrate about the worries of the Sorcerer's Stone. For once the young Gryffindor felt like a replica of Hermione about his classes, but for all the wrong reasons. The topic of Quidditch quickly became a dark subject for the Boy-Who-Lived where Ron was concerned. Flying on a broom was becoming a burden instead of a joy for the youngest seeker. Harry had already experienced almost falling off his Nimbus, something he never wanted to feel again. No matter how many times Fred and George blocked the Gryffindors' attacks, they can't protect the seeker forever. What other reason would initiate Harry's decision to resign on his first year for the team? Harry didn't bother to inform his friends of the choice to quit as Seeker in an effort to postpone their protests; contrary to belief it was the twins' initial idea for Harry to quit. Least Harry could avoid Hermione's words at the reminder that McGonagall gave Harry the opportunity to join the team and this was how he repaid the professor.

The day the young Gryffindor went to the second floor for Charms was the realization of the curses getting worse. Initially thinking the worst of revenge was over did Harry slowly let down his guard. The young Potter had a sense of dread wash over him as an older student tripped him and would have fallen face first if two red-heads had not appeared on each side.

"Careful there, Master Potter," Fred Weasley was on Harry's left while his twin was on the right.

"Wouldn't want to mess up your scar," George Weasley said as he grinned.

"Someone might not recognize you," the twins chanted in unison before vanishing into the crowded corridor. Not a second later was Harry shoved to the ground and caught a glimpse of a wand drawn with the flourish of a black cloak with a blood red on the trimmings. Harry began to feel his skin prickle before pushing the instinctual urge to flee to his personal sanctuary as he entered the classroom.