Warning: Harry is a bit dark. Death in this chapter.

Chapter 1: The Scar

Harry Potter didn't have a baby blanket or even a teddy bear to hold at night. He didn't have an imaginary friend or a puppy either.

No, what Harry had was so much better.

Huddled in the cupboard under the stairs, five-year-old Harry lay on his cot with his hand curled against his forehead. A livid scar in the shape of a lightning bolt was concealed beneath the small hand.

A sharp rap on the door immediately woke Harry up.

"Up! Get up! It's time for you to set the table!" Aunt Petunia's surly tone called.

Harry sat up and hung his legs off the cot. He smiled slightly and gave his scar one last caress before reaching for the door knob and pushing the door open.

Harry walked the few steps to the kitchen and knelt on the floor. The dishes were held in the lower cupboards especially so he could reach them.

Aunt Petunia didn't even glance at him and instead glared at the sizzling bacon, as if that would make it cook faster.

Setting the table was his job. It's not like it was difficult and Harry didn't mind doing it. But, it was just one more thing that Dudley could hold over him.

Speaking of Dudley…. Harry felt a push, and he fell forward on top of the stack of glass plates he was holding. Harry landed with a yell.

Harry lay there on the floor for several moments with sharp pain in his arms and tears spilling from his eyes.

"Harry dropped the pla-ates," Dudley sing-songed.

"My good china! Ruined!" Aunt Petunia screeched, her beady eyes narrowed and her lip curled into a snarl.

Harry carefully pushed himself upright. The shards of glass dug into his hands. Droplets of blood seeped out the gouged areas, and he examined the fragments curiously.

Looking at the shards of glass lying across the floor, Harry was reminded of his own shard. It was like having one piece of a jigsaw puzzle. While Harry felt overjoyed to be the caretaker of one piece of the set, he wanted to collect all of them.

Aunt Petunia growled in annoyance as she grabbed ahold of Harry's shoulder. "You better be glad your ruckus didn't wake up Vernon. Come along. You need to get cleaned up before he's up."

Harry rolled his eyes. Typical. His walrus of an uncle could sleep through a storm.

Harry let himself be pulled upstairs after his aunt.

Aunt Petunia continued grumbling to herself. "Good for nothing freak! Just like his good for nothing parents!"

He entered the bathroom and immediately set his face in front of the mirror. Harry pushed up his bangs and traced his scar with a bloodied finger. He felt a slight shock and he frowned, flicking the scar and checking it over one last time.

Good. They were okay.

Aunt Petunia cleared her throat. "I don't know how many times I'm going to have to tell you! Stop touching that thing."

Harry glared at her. She turned away to grab tweezers and cotton swabs from the medicine cabinet. Harry stripped down to his pants and threw the ruined clothes in the laundry basket.

Harry sat up on the counter. Aunt Petunia went to work plucking at the glass shards. The shards made a plink-plink sound as they were dropped into a dish at his side.

Harry shuffled his feet and kicked against the cabinet as she cleaned the cuts.

"Don't push it," Aunt Petunia scowled. "You've already ruined my morning."

He sat still. She gave him a long look and turned back towards the medicine cabinet.

"Vernon will throw a fit if he sees this," she muttered.

She dabbed concealer onto his hands. Aunt Petunia looked him in they eye.

"Put on a long-sleeve shirt, too," she ordered.

Harry nodded. Aunt Petunia hesitated for a moment and reached for his forehead.

Harry leaned backwards.

"No," he said quietly.

She shot him an annoyed look. "I just want to cover that wretched thing."

Aunt Petunia reached forward to put concealer on his scar.

Alarms went off in his head.

NONONONONO

She couldn't cover it. That would be wrong. So, so wrong.

Harry didn't care if his aunt and uncle resented is very existence. He didn't care if Dudley tried to humiliate him. He didn't care if he got hurt.

But his scar? No. His scar was his treasure. His possession. It belonged to him. Harry would not allow Aunt Petunia to cover it up, as if it was something to be ashamed of.

Harry was fed up. His own family would never give his shard the respect that it was owed.

Harry demanded it.

"GET OUT!" Harry screamed. Aunt Petunia's eyes widened as she was thrust outside the bathroom.

Harry spun around towards the mirror.

He didn't see as his aunt smashed through the safety rail and plummeted to the first floor of the house. Harry ignored the sounds of wood splintering as she broke through the frame and hit the floor with a sharp crack.

Harry focused his scar, sitting up on the counter so he could lean closer. Emerald eyes stared into the mirror at his scar.

He had a sort of awed expression on his face, his lips parted and his eyes big. "I protected us." It sounded almost like a question.

Harry knew he was weak. He was just a scrawny little boy with knobbly knees. What he would do to be bigger, to be able to protect his shard.

But now…. This changed everything.

Harry scrambled off the countertop and continued facing the mirror. "I protected us," he said more firmly. "I can protect us."

Harry fingered his scar thoughtfully and smiled. "I can find them- all of them."

The thought of anything else made his stomach churn.

Harry ran down the stairs, stumbling slightly. He couldn't contain his glee and he grinned widely.

He barely spared a glance for the pale, broken figure that was his aunt. Dudley knelt beside her body. His cheeks were ruddy, and tears and snot streamed down his face. "Wake up, Mum! Wake up!" Dudley wailed.

Harry quickly put on a change of clothes and stuffed the rest into his backpack.

Harry did not look around before he left. He didn't even say goodbye. Harry held no fond memories of the house and he wouldn't miss anyone.

Harry yanked open the front door and barely avoided hitting his head. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Harry glanced around the neighborhood as he walked. Mrs. Figg, a grizzled old woman who watched him sometimes, was walking her numerous cats across the street. She waved at him and frowned.

"It's not safe for you out here! Let me get you back inside!" she called.

Harry walked faster. "Don't worry Mrs. Figg. I'll be right back!"

Not.

She smiled and tugged on the leashes. "That's alright then. I'll just drop by later and check on you."

Harry shook his head. As if she wanted to do anything other than keep them imprisoned with the Dursleys.

Harry walked past the perfectly kept lawns. Aunt Petunia's friend, Yvonne, from Number 16 walked across her yard to grab her newspaper. She wore a floral yellow dressing gown and had pink rollers in her blonde hair.

"You're the nasty trouble maker, aren't you?" she asked snidely.

"You're the ugliest woman I've ever seen!" Harry retorted.

It wasn't the greatest comeback, but Harry frankly didn't care. They were leaving.

"Why I never!" she gasped, utterly scandalized.

Harry reached the end of the block. He looked back at the perfectly manicured lawns and uniform houses. But mostly, he thought about the pitiful, spiteful people within. In particular, he thought about his Uncle Vernon who was still fast asleep in his bed.

Harry gave the neighborhood the two-finger salute and continued walking.

It was the start of a new day, a new life for he and his shard.

Harry traced his scar with the tip of his finger. "Well, this is it," he murmured.

It wasn't until Harry was racing away in a train that the news outlets worldwide broadcasted the news of a fire. Mysteriously, an entire block with dozens of homes was turned to ashes. Nothing remained but black ash, swirling in the wind.

Some speculated that the fire was caused by a gas explosion that got out of control. Others feared that there were terrorists in Britain. Fewer claimed that aliens begrudged the humans their immaculate settlement.

In the magical world, no one noticed the absence of a muggle community. That is, except Albus Dumbledore.

I've read lots of fanfiction but I'm not used to writing it. I would appreciate any thoughts/feedback!