Chapter One

Lying flat on his stomach, Harry blinked his eyes, yawning under the warm light projected throughout the cramped cupboard. A flashlight hung, precariously suspended above his bed, swinging as the light flickered. With a cheap pen, the kind found abounded on the floors of a school hallway, poised in his hand, he smiled at the scribbled writing crammed into a small notebook, creating a scene before his eyes.

….

One shivering second of silence, the shock of the moment suspended: and then the tumult broke around Harry as the screams and the cheers and the roars of the watchers rent the air. The fierce new sun dazzled the windows as they thundered toward him, and the first to reach him were his friends, and it was their arms that were wrapped around him, their incomprehensible shouts that deafened him. Harry could not hear a word that anyone was shouting, not tell whose hands were seizing him, pulling him, trying to hug some part of him, hundreds of them pressing in, all of them determined to touch the Boy Who Lived, the reason it was over at last - The sun rose steadily over Hogwarts, and the Great Hall blazed with life and light. Harry was an indispensable part of the mingled outpourings of jubilation and mourning, of grief and celebration. They wanted him there with them, their leader and symbol, their savior and their guide.

….

Not me. The images dissolved back into the dusty cupboard. When he had turned six years old, Harry realized he could escape the lot life had thrown him. There was a world he created. A world so unlike the one in which he was trapped. Instead of cupboards and chores and boring classes, this world was one with dragons and witches and friends and magic. At the center of it all was his Harry, and his Harry was a wizard. With the whisk of his wand, his Harry could make a feather fly, defeat the darkest wizard there ever was, and free himself from a stupid, cramped cupboard. But one day on his eleventh birthday his Harry received his letter in the mail to Hogwarts, and Harry, he had never been sent any note in the mail, ever. Harry's eleventh and twelfth and thirteenth birthday passed without any invitation to learn magic in a faraway school. Harry knew no one would save him. Why should they after all? Hogwarts only existed in his mind.

Harry shook out his hand and rolled over to stretch his legs. Overestimating the distance, he swung his left leg too far, crashing it into the far wall. With a loud thump, the walls of the cupboard shook, and the flashlight slipped out from the loose knot suspending it. "Sh*t." Harry lunged, reaching his arm out to catch it. The handle of the flashlight slipped through his fingers and over the edge of the bed. It crashed onto the floor, shattering the bulb with a pop. With that, the cupboard descended into darkness. Time seemed to slow in Harry's mind. He closed his eyes, the beat of his heart pounding in his ears, and tried to control his breathing. In and out. He strained his ears. Listened for any sound. The slamming of doors. The creaking of the floorboards. The pounding of footsteps down the steps. But the house remained silent. Harry opened his eyes, letting out a sigh of relief, but without the light provided by the flashlight now laying shattered on the ground, he could see only darkness. Feeling around the top of his bed, Harry grabbed the notebook, blindly closing it and tucking it under the shelf. He settled back down on the bed, tentatively reaching out his curled legs until his toes brushed against the wall. He shut his eyes; he certainly needed the sleep.

Loud banging on his cupboard door shook Harry awake, but that was to be expected. This was how every day began. Flipping onto his stomach, Harry leaned over the edge of the bed, snatching a pair of pants. Hanging off the bed, pants in hand, he stared blankly at the shards of glass spread across the floor. Groaning, Harry remembered smashing his only flashlight the night before. That was going to be a pain to replace. "But eh," Harry thought optimistically, "It could have been worse." Harry shuttered to think what would have happened if he had woken his uncle up. Shaking the thought out of his head, Harry swept the shattered glass under his bed and set the now useless flashlight on his bed. He would clean it up later- probably. After shrugging on a clean shirt, Harry creaked open the now unlocked cupboard door. You can do this Harry

Harry yawned, propping his head on his hand, as he flipped the bacon. Turning to the scrambled eggs, he served them onto plates, scooping up the bacon and placing it to the side. He had somewhat under-cooked the bacon. If he left now, though, he could avoid seeing his uncle this morning, so it was worth the trouble he would be in this afternoon. Setting the three plates onto the table, he snatched a slice of toast which had just popped up out of the toaster. At the sound of the rest of his family thumping down the stairs, Harry scrambled to grab his backpack from his cupboard. Swinging it onto his shoulder, Harry scurried out of the door, gently closing it behind himself. He took a deep breath and started on his walk to school.

It wasn't a particularly nice day or a particularly nice walk, but there were only a few precious moment where Harry didn't have to be around his relatives. He was going to savor moments like these as much as he could. A few storm clouds drifted above his head, but it could be worse. It could be raining- knock on wood. Harry dearly hoped it would not rain, but based on the typical weather in Surrey this time of the year, he knew he should not expect too much. Tightening the straps around his shoulders, Harry waved a car across the intersection. The car speeded past, running the tires into puddle nearby and splashing Harry. That's what chivalry gets you these days, Harry thought as he shook of his wet arms as well as he could, soaking wet. It could be worse, Harry reminded himself, it could be raining. As if the gods above had been watching and felt the urge to spite Harry, the sky began to turn darker and the first raindrops fell from the sky.

Across the street, a worried mother ushered a red-haired boy near his age into the car as to escape the rain. This sucks, Harry groaned, pulling up his backpack over his head to form a sort of makeshift umbrella. He quickened his pace at first to a quick walk and then to a full out run. The rain began to pour harder, and he sprinted around the last street corner to arrive at school. Ducking under the covered path, Harry dropped down his soaked backpack and shook out his wet. What a great start to the day.

…

The patter of rain against the windows could be heard even over the chatter from the crowds of slightly damp teens. Collapsing his umbrella at the doorway, Professor Snape stored it in his bag, scanning his eyes over the hallway before landing on a middle aged man standing awkwardly in a corner of the hallway. Approaching the man, Professor Snape extended his arm for a handshake.

"Ah, you are Professor Snape I gather," The principal acknowledged shaking his hand. "Thank you so much for coming on such short notice," the principal gratefully told Professor Snape, leading him to the classroom. He swung open the door, gesturing for him to enter.

"You're welcome….." Professor Snape nodded, turning around as he entered. The room appeared how one expected a classroom to look. Four neat rows of desks sat equally spaced apart behind a larger table covered in messy stacks of papers.

"We would just find another maths teacher to watch over the class, but five classes is too much to handle. They suggested we call in someone and yeah," the principal finished lamely, acknowledging that Professor Snape was no longer paying attention instead electing to roam the classroom studying the inspirational posters plastered along the walls. "You can find the roster and the lesson plan on the desk" he gestured to a pile of loose sheets scattered on the front desk. Professor Snape grabbed them and flipped through the sheets, nodding at the principal to continue. "I suppose I will leave you to it." He stepped out through the door, pausing for a second before proceeding on his way.

Letting out a deep breath, Professor Snape scanned through the roster, flipping the sheet over to the lesson plan. Collapsing into a seat at the desk, he read through the schedule for the day, glancing at the clock for a second before beginning to prepare for the day.

…

Still soaking wet, Harry slipped into the school building, roughly shuffling his feet against the doormat in an attempt to dry them, whatever good that would do. Giving up, Harry strode over to his locker and opened it to grab his books for the day. After shoving his maths textbook into his bag and praying the frayed zipper would hold, Harry began to walk towards his maths class.

"Hey, Potter!" A voice from a large group of boys shouted. Harry halted in place. They all stood much taller than Harry, who had always been small for his age. If they started a fight, Harry was about ninety percent sure he would lose. Knowing there was nothing much to do now, Harry just kept walking, pointedly ignoring them. Even when he felt a presence run up behind him, he forced his eyes downward and continued forward.

"Did you do the maths homework?" one of the larger member, Goyle, demanded, grabbing Harry's shoulder and whipping him around, so they were facing. For the first time, Harry looked up at him

"Nope," Harry shrugged plainly, moving to continue his walk down the hallway. Harry knew it obviously wouldn't be that easy, but it was worth a try.

Goyle hesitated, staring at Harry trying to decide if he was messing with him. The pause lasted only a second, though, before he slammed Harry into the lockers. "Well I sure didn't, so you'd better give me the answers or else we both will be in a whole lot of trouble" Goyle finished a tad bit more aggressively than needed in Harry's opinion. Harry noticed the crowded hall had begun to thin out. He hoped Goyle could get over with this before class started.

"You see that's where you're wrong" Harry smiled cheekily, "you will be in trouble if you don't turn in the homework. My family, on the other hand, will be rather pleased because it will make my idiot of a cousin look better than-"

Harry was cut off by Goyle once again aggressively pushing him "you little-" A buzzing noise rang through the hall alerting both Goyle and Harry that they were late to first period.

"Would you look at that" Harry shrugged out of Goyle's grip "now you have made us both late." Heading down the hallway, Harry shouted over his shoulder to a frantic Goyle running in the opposite direction, "and you still haven't done the maths homework"