Chapter 1

Freak knew that he wasn't wanted, he knew that things like him were bad. Freak was finally happy, he thought he was going to die.

Freak had dropped one of Aunt Petunias special plates, he was taking them out for the special dinner Aunt Petunia had made him cook. Dudley ran into him and before Freak could do anything the plate dropped from his hands. Uncle Vernon had gone very red and purple, and very loud.

After that Freak's memory was very blurry, he knows he felt a lot of pain everywhere, but after Uncle hit his head he couldn't feel anything. Then Uncle chucked him in his cupboard.

Freak closed his eyes smiled, he hoped that he died.

John and Maisie Williams did not know that they were about to change the course of history for a whole civilisation simply by showing up to dinner ten minutes early. Yet, that is what they did.

After ringing the doorbell, a pleasant bell chime, a woman opened the door. Mr Williams assumed this was Vernon Dursley's wife, Petunia. Vernon had gone on at work to brag about how amazing her cooking was, and that John would not be able to enjoy anything else after trying her food. Mrs Dursley smiled, welcomed them in, and commented on how it was a pleasant surprise that they were early.

The house was very ordinary, filled with photos of two adults and a child on every available shelf and wall. There were a lot of photos of the rather portly child, Maisie remembered John mentioning that his name was Dudley and apparently took after his father is almost all aspects. The smell of a roast cooking lingered heavily in the air, Petunia lead them into the living room where Vernon and Dudley were. Vernon and Petunia engaged John and Maisie, making small talk about how was John doing at work and what did Maisie do during the week.

After being served slightly bitter tea, and almost stale scones, that Petunia claimed she had baked herself, John started to realise that her acclaimed skill was more of Vernon having a lot of love for his wife and eating anything he could get his hands on. Vernon was now bragging about his son's recent achievement at primary school, and how he wouldn't be surprised if Dudley was an amazing businessman in the future, just like his dad.

"Petunia would you be a dear and direct me to the lavatory?" Maisie softly asked Mrs Dursley. Their husbands had just segued on to talking about drills and the upcoming bid for a new project with a large construction company, a topic that Maisie did not find interesting at all.

"Yes, it's just down the hall, past the shoe cupboard under the stairs," Petunia replied, now fussing over her son and trying to get him to eat a fourth scone. Maisie stood up and began to walk down the hallway past the cupboard when she noticed something odd on the floor.

Blood.

Smeared blood, as if someone had tried to wash it away quickly and hadn't quite got rid of all of it. Leading straight to the cupboard under the stairs. Getting closer and crouching down, Maisie noticed a stench that the roast had previously covered, a very distinct metallic scent. More blood. Her hand stretched slowly towards the small lock and began to slide it op-

"Maisie dear, did you get lost on your way to the bath-" John walked into the hallway, and paused midsentence as he noticed the startled look on his wife's face. Maisie head turned towards him and conveying her trepidation. She turned back to the cupboard, and slowly opened the door. Now John had seen a lot of injuries growing up playing rugby and he was no stranger to blood, but what he saw in the cupboard will be something he will remember till the day he dies.

There, on a small moth ridden cot, was a very young child. The little body was ridden with cuts and horrible bruising. Despite all the pain, the child must have been in, a small smile graced their lips.

Maisie screamed, John cried in outrage, and the Dursley ran into the hallway. As soon as the homeowners discovered the source of their guests' distress their faces became very pale. Petunia fainted, Dudley ran to his mother, and Vernon's face slowly became very red.

John was not a violent person, despite his chosen sport, he did not seek out fights as a kid, but at that moment his only goal was to hurt this monster. John swung with his right and, just like his wife, Vernon dropped to the ground. Maisie ran to the landline phone she had seen in the kitchen and rung 999. Trying not to cry, she explained to the person on the phone the situation and started to beg for the ambulance to just get here as quick as possible.

John did not know what to do, he looked down at the small child, not wanting to hurt them any more than possible slowly, and carried them out of the cupboard under the stairs. He placed them on the sofa, where not ten minutes ago he had been talking to the monster that caused this child's suffering.

After that the police and ambulance showed up, there was so much noise, John was taken off to a corner to be questioned, and Maisie was being aided by an EMT in a shock blanket. No matter how crowded the house was, John did not take his eyes off the small body until it disappeared in the back of an ambulance.

He looked to his wife and slowly began to cry.

Freak had a faint feeling that was now covered in light and heard the dampened sound of a scream. But that didn't matter to Freak, he was more focused on the flowery and earthy scents he could smell, the feeling of water dripping on his forehead and colours of red, bright green and dark brown swirling in his sight. A feeling of arms holding him tight, just like the flashes he has when he had a dream.

Freak smiled, he liked this feeling and hoped that this it was what it felt like when he died. He never wanted this feeling to stop.

Freak didn't know how much time had passed, but just before everything changed he heard a whisper,

"We love you, Harry, you are so special, but your time hasn't come yet." Then the scents disappeared, and Fre- no, Harry- began to open his eyes. As Harry began to feel pain course through his body, a deep voice washed over him,

"You are a strange being, calling me now. Rest child, you have yet to change the world."

The feeling of cold wind whirled around Harry, and then he succumbed to sleep.