Alright everyone, this is the first fanfic I've written in ages, so I hope it goes well. It was also drafted and edited on an ipad, so excuse me if the formatting is funky. I hope to have a functioning computer within a week. Without further ado, let's get going!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Harry Potter universe, or any of it's characters. I'd be insanely rich, and popular if I did.

Curled up inside his cupboard under the stairs, Harry Potter was asleep. These rare few midnight hours were the only peace the young boy knew, and his conscious appreciation of them was always coupled with the pain in knowing that he had woken up again. He could never bring himself to commit suicide, he didn't think it was right. However, nothing would of pleased the ten year old boy more then to not wake up in the morning. If he had to spend one more day with his aunt and uncle, it was almost certain he would lose it. Of course, Harry always felt that way, until the sweet, dark embrace of sleep came to claim him.

Tonight was no exception. It had been a long day, even by his standards. Is uncle had woken him up early to cook Dudley a special breakfast, and had held his hand on the stove for taking too long. After that, it was off to weed the garden and clean out the gutters. Had it only been those simple tasks, it would of been an exceptionally good day. However, Dudley and his gang of friends delighted in making his chores as difficult as possible. After all, they had none of their own and needed to occupy the time during summer holiday. The older boys had taken to throwing stones at him while he was working on the garden. A fair few of them had squarely hit him in the head, and his pitch black hair was matted down from the blood. In a clever move for the group, they had boiled a pot of water and poured it in the gutter as Harry was cleaning them, scalding his already damaged hands. The scream he let out earned him a caning from Uncle Vernon.

It was only now in the cool bosom of the night that he was safe. The Harry Hunting wore out his morbidly obese cousin, and his uncle usually had enough whiskey in his system to knock him out at this point. Though ever muscle hurt to move, when ever Harry would enter his cupboard at night, his face would approach a smile. Here, they couldn't hurt him, scream at him, or try to make him cry. It was his safe haven, the only place he felt at home. Once or twice, he had thought about running away, but Aunt Petunia assured him he'd be joining his parents if he did, and she'd see to it personally. At the time, his eyes lit up like she had given him a precious gift. To leave this world, to escape them, and more importantly to meet his parents, that was a wonderful idea to him. It didn't matter that his cheer lost him dinner for five days, it provided him with an internal escape.

Now, whenever he would curl up on the floor at night, he would dream of his parents. Harry had never seem a picture of them, none were ever kept in the house. He liked to think though, that he looked like his father, and that his mother was as gorgeous as the setting sun, and had hair the same color. In his dreams, his mother would gently wake him up in the morning with a soft kiss, and then join him at breakfast. She would play games with him and read to him until his father came home from work, when they all would join together and have a nice dinner. His father would talk about the days work, and crack jokes while Harry sat in rapt attention. The dreams would always end the same way, with his parents tucking him into bed, reading him a bed time story, and telling him that they loved him before kissing him goodnight and shutting his door. It was the kind of happiness that Harry knew could only ever be a dream for him.

Tonight was different, however. When Harry closed his eyes, expecting to see his dream parents, the scene was entirely different. It was pitch black out, the only light coming from the full moon shining down on him, and the thousands of stars looking on. The celestial bodies barely illuminated the rolling green hills and fields. Ancient trees stretched up from the ground, their gnarled and knotted trunks and branches appearing as the faces of the steadfast soldiers of the earth, sitting motionless until called upon by their masters. A small creek rippled close by, making the only discernible noise in the field he was standing in. Harry went to investigate the creek, eager to see what natural flowing looked like, even if it was just his imagination.

As he looked down into it, the shadow of several large birds glided across it's surface. Harry turned around to see three large ravens perched in the nearest tree.

"You poor child. Such wickedness visited upon such innocence. Yet after all you have suffered, you have no malice. Why is that?" came the cool, womanly disembodied voice.

Harry's head whipped around from right to left, searching for it's origin. He started to hyperventilate, his yes darting around rapidly. This was supposed to be his safe place. His parents were supposed to be here. Harry's fists clenched, not wanting to cry out. Making noise always earned him pain. Where had the voice come from? Why wouldn't they just get it over with?

"Calm yourself, boy. I mean you no harm. I only wish to know your mind. Servants of mine reported to me of your extraordinary temperance, and it brought me great curiosity. So, why not lash out?"

Harry turned around to see a tall woman with long hair as dark as the night itself. She stood before him with no anger on her face, but her piercing gold eyes contained within them a tempest. Yet this woman radiated a kind of feeling Harry could not quite place. Stammering at first, he answered.

"I'd be dead if I did anything against them. One day, when I'm bigger and stronger, they'll get what they deserve" he told the woman. It didn't matter to him what she thought, dreams couldnt hurt him.

The woman smirked at him, and raised an eyebrow "Ah, so you do have hate in you? Do you want to seek revenge?

Harry shook his head "I want justice. Their suffering just happens to fit that description"

The woman laughed madly "It seems my servants were right about you, Harry Potter. You will see me again soon. Until then, sleep with the peace of the dead"

With that, the ravens surrounded her and the woman disappeared in a cyclone of feathers. The only trace of her previous presence were the footprints she left in the grass. Harry wondered what she had been talking about. Who were her servants, and why were they interested in him? Those were questions for another time. For now, Harry laid down in the grass and closed his eyes. He'd find out soon enough.

So, what did you think? I don't think it's too terrible. It's a little odd, but it should get better soon. I have a lot of plans for this fic, and I can't wait to write them. Thanks for reading!