Our story starts in number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging. Now there lived a family of four. Mrs. Petunia Dursley, her husband, Mr. Vernon Dursley, their son, Dudley, and their nephew, Harry Potter. The Dursley family was as normal as could be. But they had a secret, a secret that they didn't want found out. They weren't psycho killers or anything. It was something more terrifying in their minds. Something that, to them, shouldn't be real. Something that, to them, came from a horror movie.
Their nephew, Harry Potter, was a wizard.
A freak
An abomination
When they had found him with nothing but a basket, a blanket, a letter and the clothes in his back, they had wanted nothing to do with him. Of course, when they read the letter they were forced to take him in. His first years with the Dursleys cold be summed up to one word. Horrible. While Harry was in his baby stage, Petunia fed him spoiled milk, changed his nappy only when she couldn't take more of the stench and only bathed him when he was really filthy. They didn't let him play with any of Dudley toys and dressed him in Dudleys cast offs.
When Harry could walk, he was given numerous chores around the house. As the years passed he was given more chores and less food. This continued until Harry was seven, when he discovered that this wasn't normal. He had seen how they had treated Dudley but he thought that's how it was suppose to be. But when was finally allowed to go to school, he saw how other families interacted. He saw how a mother hugged her son, how a father ruffled his sons hair, he saw how brother played with each other. They weren't treated like he was. That's when he decided that he wanted to be treated like that.
Of course, when he said this to his relatives, he received a slap to the head and made to go to his 'room'. Things were horrible at school as it was at the Dursley house. While nobody hit him, the children called him names, he didn't have any friends- Dudley scared them away when they tried to approach him-, the teachers thought him a trouble maker and a liar thanks to the Dursleys. The stuff that happened around him only made it worse.
One time he flew to the roof of the school when Dudley and his gang where chasing him. Another time, he turned his teachers hair blue. Another time, a girl had been making fun of him, saying stuff she had heard Dudley say, and she had suddenly sprouted seventy pound of fat.
All of these things happened when he was in emotional turmoil, Harry had discovered after he was locked up in his cupboard. Only when he was extremely desperate, happy, scared or angry. He also discovered that he healed faster than normal people. Bruises faded in minutes, cuts healed in seconds, bones were mended in hours. Harry wanted to know how that was. Maybe he was a freak, he thought. But then discarded the notion. He wouldn't believe what his relatives told him. What was to say that what came out of his his aunts mouth weren't lies? What was to say what came out of his uncles mouth weren't lies? He didn't know, so he chose to ignore what they said.
Harry was a smart boy, but had to hide it in school. He'd rather get bad grades than get a beating for getting better grades than Dudley. He was smart, and every time something strange happened around him he had felt a strange warmth coming from his chest. A pleasant tingle when his injuries knitted themselves closed. So when he was alone in his cupboard in the night he chose to try to recreate the feeling and see if he could control it.
Harry grabbed the small knife that he had swiped from the kitchen when nobody was watching and and made s shallow cut in his palm, barely wincing. His chest warmed slightly and it seemed to move towards the injury. Harry watched in amazement as the cut mended itself till you wouldn't have know there had been a cut there if it wasn't for the blood. He put the knife down and tried to think on how could he control it. The 'incidents', as he had taken to calling them, only happened when extreme emotions or injury where at play. Non of the things that had happened Harry had tried to do on purpose, they just happened.
Harry opened his eyes, an idea ringing in his head. He took the knife and made another shallow cut on his palm. When he felt the comforting warmth again, he put the knife down, closed his eyes and concentrated on were the warmth was coming from. He felt the tingle of his mending injury, the warmth of the strange energy and something that made his hairs stick on ends. He concentrated and concentrated but nothing. He huffed in irritation. The tingle as almost gone now. The warmth receding back to where it came from. He concentrated harder on where it was going and, suddenly, Harry felt warmth all over.
Harry opened his emerald eyes and looked around in amazement. Every were he looked seemed like a rainbow. The colors flowed and moved and changed. There were even some colors that he didn't even know existed.
"Amazing" Harry said as he gazed at the flowing colors. He looked around some more but the colors seemed to be receding. He looked as the colors went back to a seemingly ball the size of a house in the middle of the landscape. Harry tried to walk towards it but, instead, floated slowly. Harry decided not to question it. He touched the surface of the multicolored orb with the palm of his hand. Pain seemed to seep trough his pours. Harry tried to move his hand away from the orb but he couldn't.
Harry tried to take his hand off the orb to no avail. He was victim to busts of pain all over his body until he couldn't take it anymore. 'This was a bad idea' Harry thought before he blacked out.