Disclaimer: these character = J.K. Rowling's = not mine

Defiant. Loyal. Fucking Bad Ass.

"Stand aside, I only want the child."

"FUCK YOU, YOU BASTARD!"

"I'm giving you a chance to live, foolish girl."

"Ya? Well here's a little bit of good ol' fashioned Potter Fuck you! Gaudenus quinque hourorum!"

Gasps... Green lights... silence.

The gentle giant ruffled the child's hair affectionately, wishing he hadn't had this happen to the kid. The kid didn't smile or play at all on the trip on his motorbike, instead just looking on with grim determination. Hagrid hoped that Dumbledore knew what he was doing, leaving Harry with the Dursleys of all people. Not liking the decision, but trusting Dumbledore enough to go along with it, he hoped the boy would have a good childhood, especially with all of the trials he would have to face when he got older.

With a last goodbye Hagrid took off on his sky bike, with a feeling in his gut that he just couldn't shake away.

When the morning came, a very faint Petunia called to her husband from the front door. "Vernon, Vernon, come quick, it's ... it's a..."

"Another goddamned girl-scout? to the curb with them, I say!" came the gruff reply. Then silence. "Who the fuck leaves children on the doorstep of perfectly normal doorsteps?" Then his eyes slid over to the letter under the sleeping infant.

Dear Vernon and Petunia Dursley,

This is Lily's child, Harry. His parents died in an accident, and he needs somewhere to stay. I would be very grateful if you would take him in, and treated as you would your own son. Teach him the value of humbleness and helping others.

Sincerely, Albus Dumbledore

Vernon's eyes narrowed. He looked at Harry, then at his wife, who was deathly pale after reading over his shoulder. Then he looked back at Harry. He reached forward pick up the basket Harry was in, when the child woke up and bit his finger. It was excruciatingly painful. With a glare towards the expressionless child he told his wife "You can care for him if you want, but if he even so much as looks at me funny..." He didn't have to finish his sentence because his intentions were clear. "Oh, and be sure he earns his keep around here, as well."

Vernon walked in as his wife picked up the child, and scrutinized him. His blanket fell off, and he let out a stream of urine, right onto his new 'mother'.

7 years later...

The belt dug into his back, causing searing pain to lance throughout his body. But no tears came. He would not cry because the punishment would worsen. That, and he hadn't had anything to drink in a few days.

The extremely long tool cracked on him again. He didn't even question why he was beaten anymore. He hoped the pain would go away, but it never did. He wished his 'gracious uncle' had only marred the skin that was hidden.

And again. He wished his skin didn't look like a bunch of tic-tac-toe games had been crammed onto it. He wished he could do something to help his suffering.

A hard kick in the back brought black bits into his vision, and he felt that his nose was broken. He knew that feeling, especially since Dudley became a boxer, and he became a punching bag.

He was limp, but still conscious. Then he heard a pair of pants hit the floor. Oh god, the boy prayed. He prayed to every god he knew of. He prayed that Petunia would come home from shopping with Dudley early. His prayers had never been answered before. His streak continued untarnished. It was over twenty minutes later, after that kind of beating he usually went unbeaten for the rest of the day. He never hated anyone so much as he did his uncle.

He heard rather than saw Vernon walk away, and order him to clean the house again. He sat there for a few minutes before stumbling up, taking care not to touch anything but the floor. The repercussions for that were made clear years ago. He craned his neck to see a pile of dirt on the ground next to his uncle's pair of dirty shoes.

He really wished he knew his own name. The only names he responded to were maid, boy, and runt. What he did know, was enough curses to make a sailor blush. He went through them in his head, using them in some very, very creative ways with his relatives.

A few months later...

The boy hadn't eaten for over a week. Even if this was a regular occurance, he needed to survive somehow, he needed to eat. In the dead of the night, he snuck out of the house. His 'protectors' would notice if he ate even the smallest piece of food.

He made it to the center of the town, which was surprisingly active for the dead of the night. The boy pickpocket like a fiend. Many a person would go home without a wallet that night, and one boy would go home full. He resolved to do this more often.

2 years later...

The nine year old, still without a name, was in the boxing ring. He had an obviously broken nose, and a few disfigured fingers. What he didn't have was friends, or anything else that was some way positive. He faced his whale of a cousin for the third time that day. the lonely boy cradled one of his many cracked ribs and hoped that he could keep going. He wouldn't stop. He couldn't. His jaw was out of place. One eye purple and swollen, the other black as night and sealed shut nastily, but he watched his opponent. Dudley always seemed to punch left, right, right, and he didn't intend to lose. Since his own strikes were always a bit under where he intended, he missed quite a bit. Dudley swung left, he dodged. Dudley swung right, he dodged. This time when Dudley swung right, the boy stepped in with a powerful uppercut into his cousin's chin, sending him sprawling.

He looked around for his uncle, when suddenly whish a heavy blow from the now-familiar belt broke through the skin on his back again. He could feel the spit flying out of the other man's mouth when he yelled at him. "What were you thinking boy? You could have hurt my Dudders!" Each word was punctuated slowly, and each syllable marked another blow onto the crumpled boy. "I took you in out of the goodness of my heart, and this is how you repay us? No wonder you weren't wanted. Well, guess what? don't come back! No one wants you, anywhere!"

The boy on the ground didn't give a shit. Fuck, if he knew it was this easy, he would've done it years ago! However, he pledged himself revenge against the Dursleys and all that they had done to him, with every fiber in his body, no matter the price...

He heard his cousin stop his 'crying' and snicker. Fuck him.

After they had left Harry reached up to his face, and saw blood on his face where his uncle had belted him, in a jagged line between his eyes, starting under his left eye, going over his nose and ending above his right eye. Whatever, he didn't give a shit. He would do it again given the chance, and still not give a rat's ass.

A little before Harry's eleventh birthday...

The small boy was outnumbered and outsized. What he wasn't, was out motivated. He had just jumped in front of a group of bullies terrorizing a small, bushy haired girl who was shivering like it was winter, which it was, but that's beside the point. The large kid in the middle looked familiar, and like the ringleader of the three goons. Even when given an opportunity to escape, the girl just stood there, frozen in fear.

The bullies stepped at the little boy, intending to scare him, but getting quite frightened themselves at his gaze. His face had a long, diagonal scar running along his face, and eyes of absolute hardness. No understanding, warmth or any other emotion a 10 year about to turn eleven should have had in them. He bared his teeth and they saw his nose, broken in three ways. His arms were tattooed with past cuts and rips in his skin.

The little boy, however, was quite excited. He hadn't been in a good fight for many months. Sure, there had been fights, but they just weren't fun. The kid in the middle had an air of superiority around him that would be fun to demolish. To bring the fat kid down to size. His gaze turned into a grim smile. Then he attacked. They never knew what hit them. the kid on the right was unconscious before he could even move, and the kid on the left walked away shakily. His eyes shifted to the big one.

Three minutes later he piled all of the boys together and beat the shit out of them. They were all sobbing. But... he didn't give a fuck. The last one almost got away. But his prey never got away. He was called the badger for a reason. He noticed the girl still standing there, still frozen, still shocked out of her mind. He walked up to her and waved in front of her face. She snapped out of her trance immediately and looked at him, disbelievingly.

"Oh my god, that was sososooooo amazing! Thank you sooo much. Hi my name is Hermione Granger what's yours?" The girl said in one fast breath.

Just as the badger was about to reply, a massive owl swooped down and dropped a letter on the ground in front of him. He looked at the letter interestedly, as no one had ever sent him mail, especially with an owl. He opened it carefully, and looked at the letter. It seemed to be an acceptance letter to a place of magic, of all things, written by Albus D. and Minerva M., addressed to the dumpster next to the playground. It said someone would retrieve him. He snorted, if they would come, they would come, no need to get his hopes up.

The girl, still in front of him, seemed to know exactly what his letter meant, and began talking really fast, again. "Wow, you're going to Hogwarts too? Maybe we could go shopping together!"

The badger stared at her for a while before opening his mouth for the first time in many months, his deep, mature voice hard and merciless, with just a tad bit of sarcasm mixed in. "Yeah, lemme jus' grab my...

The girl, Hermione, noticed his looks for the first time. His scarred face, his emotionless gaze, his clothes that barely fit or protected him, his lack of socks or shoes, and his scratched up arms and legs. She looked at his disfigured fingers and nose, the unruly hair and every other undesirable trait that he had. She shivered, rather noticeably, though he couldn't tell if it was from looking at him or the freezing weather. But, she also noticed his determined posture, and selfless attitude, his steadfast resolve and his un-judging gaze.

She did the sensible thing, of course, and invited him over for dinner.

So, How was it?

First story, so don't be a story-Nazi on me.

I have a tough schedule. I might, with emphasis on the might, update. If I do, it might not be in a day, or necessarily a week. It might be a few months before I update, if I do. Summer will hopefully bring more updates though.