Chapter One: Harry's Savior
Harry's PoV-
-A seventeen-year old boy sat curled up in the corner of his closet at 4:00 in the morning. He could not sleep. He never slept. Sleeping would consist of closing your eyes, and when you close your eyes, you are letting the darkness come take you away. He could not see anything anyway, as he was shut in a broom closet, but at least when he was awake, he couldn't dream. Dreams were a terrible nuisance that came to him often when he could no longer stay awake. They always consisted of unimaginable pain surrounded by darkness. In his dreams, he heard people he loved being murdered or tortured. He would often wake up screaming, with sweat and tears running down his face, but he had to be quiet. He could not wake his Aunt and Uncle up from their sleep. For if he did, he knew that he would get an unmerciful beating. But he did not want to think about those things. They always brought him nothing but pain.
-He hated himself. He hated the way this black hair would always stick out in every direction, never lying flat. He hated his body, always so skinny from malnutrition. But most of all, he hated his scar. He had a scar the shape of a lightning bolt on his forehead that only meant one thing. He was Harry Potter, the boy who lived. No, he was not Harry... He was Potter, a young look-alike of his dead father. But there was one thing that Harry liked about himself, his glasses. Sure, they were large, black, and were always braking, not to mention he looked like a geek in them, but they were his only source of comfort during hard times. When he had his glasses, all he had to do was to take them off and all the bad images that he definitely didn't want to see would smudge so all he saw were fuzzy bits of colors and shapes. That way, even as he could feel Vernon's foot kick him hard in the ribs and his hand punch him in the face, he couldn't see it.
-Harry's parents both were murdered by an evil sorcerer named Voldemort. Harry had faced Lord Voldemort for four years in a row at school and only just survived each time. Though, last year was the worst. He had witnessed Voldemort kill a fellow student, Cedric Diggory, with the same curse that killed his parents. He had watched as the boy's limp body fell to the ground by his feet. He had watched Voldemort rise again, which by the way, was his fault. And if that was not enough, everyone had blamed Harry for Cedric's death. Yes, that year had gone extremely bad. But this year was by far the worst. With a mixture of an uncle who beat him every time he had the chance, an aunt that never gave him any food, and a cousin that tortured Harry about everything his peanut-sized brain could think of, Harry was in hell. Not too mention that Harry was a wizard and his relatives absolutely, with every ounce of their soul, hated everything that had to do with magic. Oh, and I forgot to mention that Harry couldn't do any of his required, summer school work because they were all locked in Dudley's second bedroom.
-Suddenly, Harry heard footsteps coming down the stairs. He looked at his watch. "Damn!" it was already eight o-clock in the morning and now, here came is Aunt and his Uncle. His lazy cousin Dudley always slept until the last moment. So Harry guessed that he wouldn't wake up for another two hours or so. Harry snapped his head towards the door as it clicked open and light filtered through. Harry heard Uncle Vernon yell: "Get out of that blasted closet boy!!! And make me breakfast." Harry nodded gloomily and went towards the kitchen.
-Harry already knew what Vernon liked since he made him breakfast almost every morning. So as Harry fried some bacon on the frying pan, Uncle Vernon called for coffee. Harry served him his usual, gigantic mug, and ran back to the bacon, hoping it wasn't burning, that would be bad news. Harry had burned Vernon's eggs once, and Vernon had made him hold the burning hot frying pan in his hands, until his skin had red, blistering welts on them. So he had never made that mistake again...
-After Harry was done cooking, he silently got a piece of toast for himself and snuck off to his cupboard. He was just about to bite into his toast, when Aunt Petunia's voice came from the kitchen. "Boy! You get your scrawny ass back in here and clean up the mess you made, or else your hide will be so black and blue you won't be able to sit for a week!!!" Harry cringed at the thought and scrambled back into the kitchen. He cleaned up the mess and loaded the dishwasher. He went into the living room as quietly as possible and asked Uncle Vernon if he could go in his cupboard and not disturb anyone for the rest of the day. After Uncle Vernon grabbed him by the collar, spit in his face, and gave his usual speech about not doing any magic, Harry was able to go back to his cupboard. -But Harry had no intention what so ever to go back in that miserable place, instead, he snuck outside to go for a afternoon walk. Outside was much better than being inside, of coarse, he wasn't aloud to go outside, but once a week he sneaked out to get some fresh air and to clear his mind. If the Dursleys ever found out that he had been outside around other people, or what they called: "in plain view", he would get a beating like he'd never gotten before! But Harry slowly walked down the lonely road that was Privet Drive while keeping a watch out behind him to make sure that the Dursleys weren't coming after him.
-After walking around for a couple of hours, he started to head back to the Dursley's when he heard a couple of voices. He quickly dived behind a bush and listened to the upcoming voices. Yep, he knew those voices very well... It was Dudley and his gang. Harry cautiously peered out behind his bush to see what was going on. Dudley had a cigarette in his mouth and was puffing away like an old man who had been deprived of air for seventy years. Harry could tell that they were all drunk, and stoned for that matter. Dudley and his gang had been doing this for about two years and the Dursleys, being so closed minded, had no idea that their so called "perfect little angel" was getting high every night with his "tea buddies."
-Harry waited in the bushes until they were at the end of the street, near the Dursleys. Harry climbed out of the bush and carefully snuck from tree to tree, as to not be seen. Harry was now about fifty feet away from the gang and something interesting was going on. Dudley and his old friend Max were in a fight. First came cussing but it soon moved to fists. In the end Dudley had won, but he hadn't come out unscathed. He had a black eye and was bleeding at the lip. Harry didn't know how it happened or why they were in a fight, but he had to get out of there and sneak into his cupboard fast. He didn't know why, but he had a feeling that if he stuck around, he would get into major trouble. So, quietly as he could, Harry went around the back of the house and snuck into the kitchen. But when he got into the hall there was a big problem. Dudley was already there and so were Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. -Uncle Vernon looked absolutely fuming from head to toe. Harry could see that he was trying to not tear the house to shreds. He calmly went over to Aunt Petunia who, at the time, was cleaning Dudley's split lip with a wet cloth, and whispered something into her ear. She smirked and led Dudley upstairs. Once they were out of seeing range, Uncle Vernon walked over to Harry and asked in a somewhat calm, but scary as hell voice: "Did you do this to Dudley?" Harry gulped and felt sweat drip down his face. He was already shaking; awaiting the horrible beating that was surly going to come. He saw Vernon's eyes burning a hole in his skin and slowly shook his head no. It was then that Harry felt a burning sensation in his cheek, meaning that Vernon had slapped him. Harry stumbled backwards and hit his head on the wall. Harry was pinned. There was no way of escape. Uncle Vernon advanced on Harry like a wild cat that knows it's going to get a good kill that night. Vernon brought his hand up to Harry's cheek and he flinched, thinking that he was going to hit him again. But instead, he grabbed Harry's chin and pulled it upward so Harry had to look Vernon in the eye. Vernon asked again in a warning tone: "I am going to ask you one more time, did you or did you not, hurt Dudley today?"
-Harry answered. "No Uncle Vernon, I didn't." It was then that Vernon seemed to lose his patients. He punched Harry with such a force that Harry heard his jaw break. Harry cried out, and Vernon punched Harry again; this time, in the stomach. The wind was knocked out of him and he slid to the floor. As he tried to regain his breath, Vernon repeatedly kicked him in the rips. Harry felt a couple break and he curled himself up in his fetal position. But that didn't help any, as Vernon seemed to move to his back and kick and punch and shove him over and over again. Vernon pulled Harry up by the collar and punched him smack in the eye. He then dropped Harry's limp body to the ground and walked into the kitchen. Harry lay there crying and screaming as he heard Uncle Vernon's footsteps fade away, but only to return a second later.
-Harry's glasses had long ago broke, but Harry preferred to that way... He couldn't see himself lying like a cowardly wimp on the floor. Harry suddenly felt something cold and solid fall on him and shatter. Harry felt many stabs throughout his body and he knew that Uncle Vernon had dropped the spare glass pain window, that was lying in the kitchen, on him. All Harry could see was a pool of his won blood all around him, and he knew he couldn't take anymore. Uncle Vernon had gone too far this time. Harry through up what little breakfast he had, and passed out.
Harry's PoV-
-A seventeen-year old boy sat curled up in the corner of his closet at 4:00 in the morning. He could not sleep. He never slept. Sleeping would consist of closing your eyes, and when you close your eyes, you are letting the darkness come take you away. He could not see anything anyway, as he was shut in a broom closet, but at least when he was awake, he couldn't dream. Dreams were a terrible nuisance that came to him often when he could no longer stay awake. They always consisted of unimaginable pain surrounded by darkness. In his dreams, he heard people he loved being murdered or tortured. He would often wake up screaming, with sweat and tears running down his face, but he had to be quiet. He could not wake his Aunt and Uncle up from their sleep. For if he did, he knew that he would get an unmerciful beating. But he did not want to think about those things. They always brought him nothing but pain.
-He hated himself. He hated the way this black hair would always stick out in every direction, never lying flat. He hated his body, always so skinny from malnutrition. But most of all, he hated his scar. He had a scar the shape of a lightning bolt on his forehead that only meant one thing. He was Harry Potter, the boy who lived. No, he was not Harry... He was Potter, a young look-alike of his dead father. But there was one thing that Harry liked about himself, his glasses. Sure, they were large, black, and were always braking, not to mention he looked like a geek in them, but they were his only source of comfort during hard times. When he had his glasses, all he had to do was to take them off and all the bad images that he definitely didn't want to see would smudge so all he saw were fuzzy bits of colors and shapes. That way, even as he could feel Vernon's foot kick him hard in the ribs and his hand punch him in the face, he couldn't see it.
-Harry's parents both were murdered by an evil sorcerer named Voldemort. Harry had faced Lord Voldemort for four years in a row at school and only just survived each time. Though, last year was the worst. He had witnessed Voldemort kill a fellow student, Cedric Diggory, with the same curse that killed his parents. He had watched as the boy's limp body fell to the ground by his feet. He had watched Voldemort rise again, which by the way, was his fault. And if that was not enough, everyone had blamed Harry for Cedric's death. Yes, that year had gone extremely bad. But this year was by far the worst. With a mixture of an uncle who beat him every time he had the chance, an aunt that never gave him any food, and a cousin that tortured Harry about everything his peanut-sized brain could think of, Harry was in hell. Not too mention that Harry was a wizard and his relatives absolutely, with every ounce of their soul, hated everything that had to do with magic. Oh, and I forgot to mention that Harry couldn't do any of his required, summer school work because they were all locked in Dudley's second bedroom.
-Suddenly, Harry heard footsteps coming down the stairs. He looked at his watch. "Damn!" it was already eight o-clock in the morning and now, here came is Aunt and his Uncle. His lazy cousin Dudley always slept until the last moment. So Harry guessed that he wouldn't wake up for another two hours or so. Harry snapped his head towards the door as it clicked open and light filtered through. Harry heard Uncle Vernon yell: "Get out of that blasted closet boy!!! And make me breakfast." Harry nodded gloomily and went towards the kitchen.
-Harry already knew what Vernon liked since he made him breakfast almost every morning. So as Harry fried some bacon on the frying pan, Uncle Vernon called for coffee. Harry served him his usual, gigantic mug, and ran back to the bacon, hoping it wasn't burning, that would be bad news. Harry had burned Vernon's eggs once, and Vernon had made him hold the burning hot frying pan in his hands, until his skin had red, blistering welts on them. So he had never made that mistake again...
-After Harry was done cooking, he silently got a piece of toast for himself and snuck off to his cupboard. He was just about to bite into his toast, when Aunt Petunia's voice came from the kitchen. "Boy! You get your scrawny ass back in here and clean up the mess you made, or else your hide will be so black and blue you won't be able to sit for a week!!!" Harry cringed at the thought and scrambled back into the kitchen. He cleaned up the mess and loaded the dishwasher. He went into the living room as quietly as possible and asked Uncle Vernon if he could go in his cupboard and not disturb anyone for the rest of the day. After Uncle Vernon grabbed him by the collar, spit in his face, and gave his usual speech about not doing any magic, Harry was able to go back to his cupboard. -But Harry had no intention what so ever to go back in that miserable place, instead, he snuck outside to go for a afternoon walk. Outside was much better than being inside, of coarse, he wasn't aloud to go outside, but once a week he sneaked out to get some fresh air and to clear his mind. If the Dursleys ever found out that he had been outside around other people, or what they called: "in plain view", he would get a beating like he'd never gotten before! But Harry slowly walked down the lonely road that was Privet Drive while keeping a watch out behind him to make sure that the Dursleys weren't coming after him.
-After walking around for a couple of hours, he started to head back to the Dursley's when he heard a couple of voices. He quickly dived behind a bush and listened to the upcoming voices. Yep, he knew those voices very well... It was Dudley and his gang. Harry cautiously peered out behind his bush to see what was going on. Dudley had a cigarette in his mouth and was puffing away like an old man who had been deprived of air for seventy years. Harry could tell that they were all drunk, and stoned for that matter. Dudley and his gang had been doing this for about two years and the Dursleys, being so closed minded, had no idea that their so called "perfect little angel" was getting high every night with his "tea buddies."
-Harry waited in the bushes until they were at the end of the street, near the Dursleys. Harry climbed out of the bush and carefully snuck from tree to tree, as to not be seen. Harry was now about fifty feet away from the gang and something interesting was going on. Dudley and his old friend Max were in a fight. First came cussing but it soon moved to fists. In the end Dudley had won, but he hadn't come out unscathed. He had a black eye and was bleeding at the lip. Harry didn't know how it happened or why they were in a fight, but he had to get out of there and sneak into his cupboard fast. He didn't know why, but he had a feeling that if he stuck around, he would get into major trouble. So, quietly as he could, Harry went around the back of the house and snuck into the kitchen. But when he got into the hall there was a big problem. Dudley was already there and so were Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. -Uncle Vernon looked absolutely fuming from head to toe. Harry could see that he was trying to not tear the house to shreds. He calmly went over to Aunt Petunia who, at the time, was cleaning Dudley's split lip with a wet cloth, and whispered something into her ear. She smirked and led Dudley upstairs. Once they were out of seeing range, Uncle Vernon walked over to Harry and asked in a somewhat calm, but scary as hell voice: "Did you do this to Dudley?" Harry gulped and felt sweat drip down his face. He was already shaking; awaiting the horrible beating that was surly going to come. He saw Vernon's eyes burning a hole in his skin and slowly shook his head no. It was then that Harry felt a burning sensation in his cheek, meaning that Vernon had slapped him. Harry stumbled backwards and hit his head on the wall. Harry was pinned. There was no way of escape. Uncle Vernon advanced on Harry like a wild cat that knows it's going to get a good kill that night. Vernon brought his hand up to Harry's cheek and he flinched, thinking that he was going to hit him again. But instead, he grabbed Harry's chin and pulled it upward so Harry had to look Vernon in the eye. Vernon asked again in a warning tone: "I am going to ask you one more time, did you or did you not, hurt Dudley today?"
-Harry answered. "No Uncle Vernon, I didn't." It was then that Vernon seemed to lose his patients. He punched Harry with such a force that Harry heard his jaw break. Harry cried out, and Vernon punched Harry again; this time, in the stomach. The wind was knocked out of him and he slid to the floor. As he tried to regain his breath, Vernon repeatedly kicked him in the rips. Harry felt a couple break and he curled himself up in his fetal position. But that didn't help any, as Vernon seemed to move to his back and kick and punch and shove him over and over again. Vernon pulled Harry up by the collar and punched him smack in the eye. He then dropped Harry's limp body to the ground and walked into the kitchen. Harry lay there crying and screaming as he heard Uncle Vernon's footsteps fade away, but only to return a second later.
-Harry's glasses had long ago broke, but Harry preferred to that way... He couldn't see himself lying like a cowardly wimp on the floor. Harry suddenly felt something cold and solid fall on him and shatter. Harry felt many stabs throughout his body and he knew that Uncle Vernon had dropped the spare glass pain window, that was lying in the kitchen, on him. All Harry could see was a pool of his won blood all around him, and he knew he couldn't take anymore. Uncle Vernon had gone too far this time. Harry through up what little breakfast he had, and passed out.