Title: There Are No Absolutes

Author: gothgurl666

Beta(s): gothgurl's boy & sadlilgothgirl

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I am not making a profit off this fanfic.

Summary: AU. Harry Potter did not grow up with the Dursley's as planned. Instead Harry was left in the streets and Orphanage. There will be possible future slash and torture in this fic. Readers not interested leave now.

Rated: M

A/N: This will be my first fic with multiple chapters, be easy.

Nothing ever changes. Here I am in the same shithole that I've always been. It's not like I can't leave. They wouldn't care either way. I am a freak to them. Yet why leave when there are free meals. Free meals are hard to come by and there is no way in hell that I'll become some street whore just to eat. Not that I don't know any whores or some tricks of seduction (you can never be too prepared). If I thought I was capable of it I'd say it was pity that I feel for them but pity and mercy won't allow you to live on the street.

I walk the streets in the days to avoid that hell I call a home. I steal and cheat to make it a few days without returning. But in the end I find myself walking the same path back to where I started. I come across the same piece of crap sign that reads: North Side Orphanage, an orphanage that relies purely on charity. Just one look around here and you can see just how charitable people are.

Graffiti is everywhere with the occasional bullet hole in the walls. The distrust is enough to choke on. If there is one thing I have learned it's that people use people. Here there are no friendships only business partners or lovers. Lessons here are learned the hard way. There is no such thing as an okay street orphan. There are only good ones or dead ones.

My name is Solo. Of course it's not my real name. I have no idea what that is. Many of the orphans create their own names since many of them were never named by their parents. After all, why would a pregnant street whore care to name a child? The child would only be an inconvenience that costs them money. My age I'm not sure of either. I'd estimate about ten or eleven. There is no way to keep track of my age if there isn't a recorded birth date. To other people it may seem weird to not celebrate a birthday but I see no point, I mean congratulations you survived another miserable year, and you get to continue another in your truly pathetic existence.

I finally reach the front doors. The other kids stop their activities to stare at me and whisper. I walk by and pretend that I don't notice any of it. They only want attention. The truth is they are scared of me. It would seem kind of silly to any onlooker that did not know me. For as long as I can remember I use to get the shit beat out of me. I was an easy target being the smallest child there for my age. Then about a year ago something strange happened. When Mike (the ringleader) decided it was time for my daily beating. I decided I couldn't take it anymore. Something inside me snapped and some force knocked Mike into the wall. He almost died. I should feel bad but I can't make myself feel something I do not really feel. After that the others avoided me. Not that I really cared. I did not have any friends before then anyway. Another time I was caught talking with one of my only friends; a garden snake named Kiesha. They call me the devil worshipper now. I find the whole thing amusing.

As I enter the doors I hear the headmistress snapping at some little boy for some prank or some other pointless thing. I simply walk by unnoticed and arrive at the boys' rooms unbothered. Here privacy is almost an impossibility but I have managed. My most prized possessions remain in a small vent duct by my bed. My books are my only joy. Reading is my escape and I made a promise long ago that I would never allow myself to become uneducated and live my entire life here. Eventually I will leave and not return.

Dinner is about to be served but I made sure tonight I would not need to eat here. I feel like being alone tonight. I don't know how long I just sat there but long enough for dinner to be over judging by the fact that all the boys arrived to go to bed. For some reason I just don't believe that sleep will find me tonight. A pale stream of light shownthrough the only window in the room. The same window also gave the perfect view of the bright stars. I spend many nights just staring at them. They're beautiful, each of them isolated and yet so remarkable in their solitary existences.

As I lay there something tells me that nothing will be the same after tonight. It isn't something that I can explain. It was just in the night, the way the air flowed or perhaps it was even in the stars.

The witching hour approached as I watched the stars, still a long night ahead of me. The giant Grandfather clock in the main foyer begins its hypnotic song. On the last stroke something happened that was not usual for such a customary night; an owl flew through the window. I thought that maybe it was lost or a pet that had escaped because surely owls do not live here but then I noticed something attached to its leg. I cautiously approached it but it stood still and did not look to mean harm. The envelope that I gently untied from the owls leg was a letter that read:

Mr. Harry Potter

Third Bed On The Left

North Side Orphanage

London

I looked at the letter knowing it wasn't addressed to me and decided to open it anyway. The owl did let me take it.

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins September 1. We await your Owl by no later than July 31.

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Well this is obviously some sick joke, a school for magic, how ridiculous. It is probably Mike up to his stupid tricks again, like I would ever fall for that ludicrous of a joke. This is going straight to the trash. He soon fell asleep with a small smile on his lips.

The next was much like the day before it. I woke up earlier than all the others and commenced his schedule of mindlessly wandering the town. I wonder if the God or gods find it amusing to see us mortals walk around in misery, wasting our short lives. Even I have to admit that it would be a little funny.

I find myself at the library like usual. It's my haunt, my comfort. Books are so much more interesting than people. They can tell you something you don't know and the people around here can't tell you anything. The librarian greets me and I give her my most dazzling smile. I head over to my table and begin where I left off in a book on human psychology. It is so intriguing to know how to read small changes in people's body language that can tell so much about how they are feeling and thinking.

At about five o'clock the librarian ushers me out. I had already finished the book I began with and moved on to another of the same topic. Sometimes when I read so much and then have to rejoin the real world I feel disconnected. I feel like I'm not really there, I'm just floating and things don't effect me. Today is one of those times. I decide not to go back to the orphanage. I continue my walk.

There is movement to the left of me. I turn but before I manage to complete my defensive stance a blow lands to my stomach. Before I even look I know who it is, Kara. She is the best girl fighter on the streets. I usually always best her but there are days.

"You better not have let me win," she replied coldly.

"I never let anyone win," I replied honestly. If it's within my power I would never lose.

"Are you okay Solo. You know that I never mean to hurt you," she said innocently. That was complete bullshit. She is about as innocent as a mercenary. A natural born killer is what she is. She is the kind of person that would have a drink with you one day then the next day she could kill you just as easy.

"Kara, you know you can't fool me," I replied.

"A girl can try." She reached in to her pocket, which set me on alert (you can never be too careful), but she pulled out a cigarette. She threw me the pack. I gladly accepted one. I thought I was going to die if I didn't get one soon. Yes I am quite addicted. We just sit there against the grimy wall saying nothing.

The sun is beginning to set. Even for me it is not wise to sit on this side of town after dark. I move to stand up. Kara watches me leave. This is her home turf. She loves the risk. I simply don't believe in putting myself into more trouble than I have to.

Still not wanting to return to the orphanage, I wander by the places I know well. It's all the same. Nothing ever changes.

I finally decide I should return, if only to go to my room and sleep or perhaps read. I reach the front door and head towards my room. I get as far as the fireplace half way down the hall before the headmistress finds me. I prepare myself for another argument about my absentness from school.

"Follow me to my office, now." I decide to listen for once. The walk there is uneventful, other than the occasional child pointing and talking in low voices to their friends. I ignore them like usual.

We reach the door and she motions me in; I comply. Her office is exactly the same as the last time I had been there. Porcelain ducks are scattered throughout the room. Overall I think the room looks like it has been decorated by a five year old with a ten dollar budget.

The only change was that in another chair in the room there sat a man. He had long, greasy black hair and a crooked nose. He wore all black and a very unhappy expression on his face.

The headmistress interrupted my studying of this new man with her rather unhelpful reply of, "This is Mr. Snape."

I can tell immediately that he does not like me. His entire body language screams contempt. I decide not to be the first to speak. Anyways, what would I say? Hi, my name is Solo. I have no idea what the fuck you want or what is has to do with me. Yes, that would be one hell of a great conversation.

"Mr. Potter, I have been sent from a boarding school to inform you that you have been accepted," Mr. Snape said.

I don't have to pretend to be confused. Who is Mr. Potter?

Mr. Snape, noticing my confusion says, "Your name is Harry Potter and you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

A/N: Kiesha (Key-sha) Thanks to my betas. Hope you enjoy. Review please!