Hello everyone :D Just want to say that I do not own Harry Potter…I know you are all shocked but I had to admit the truth…Here's the first chapter, hope you enjoy it

Chapter One: A Good Day

It was dark. Not unfamiliar, yet something seemed out of place. It wasn't as if he hadn't immediately recognized his surroundings, even though it was too dark to make anything out. He reached for the glasses that he knew would be just slightly to his left, where he would have put them last, for there was no other space in the cupboard where they would be unharmed. The cupboard under the stairs was not a particularly dangerous area, but it was small, and he had broken them once in his sleep. He had never made that mistake again, not when he lived with those filthy muggles that were his relatives.

The feeling that something was not quite right fell over him again and he had learned to trust his senses. The answer seemed just out of reach, as if he tried to grab at it, it may come to him. But unfortunately even if he tried to extend his arm, there was no room for such activities for he was locked in a cupboard. The cupboard. There was something wrong with the cupboard. He knew even without having to look or feel around that his small surroundings were no different than the last seven years he had been there.

He felt that his discomfort should have been obvious. Hermione would have probably figured out the problem in three minutes, and here he was already at five. "Of course," mumbled Harry, "I don't know Hermione yet, I must be dreaming" and promptly awoke.

There was a time where Harry Potter would wake gasping in horror at the visions he had witnessed, but those were of the past. He doubted he would be sent any more of those sorts of dreams, unless there was a way to send them from death. Instead, he quickly opened his eyes, but took in his surroundings before stirring. It had been a habit he had adapted in his early years, what he now referred to as the dark ages.

There was freshly brewed tea, lemon, this morning, sitting on the nightstand beside the bed. A task usually reserved for House Elves, yet he had employed none due to a certain bushy haired brunette. He chuckled, remembering the valiant efforts of S.P.E.W. His eyes were usually a shade of emerald green, but with the thoughts of the events of his fourth year at Hogwarts, they grew a few shades darker.

"And what could be so horrible this early in the morning that you would have such a serious face?"

Hermione was standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips, but a smile on her face. Harry could feel the smile already tugging at his lips as he slowly got out of bed. He knew he loved her, as she loved him, not in any way romantically, but as best friends.

"I doubt it's early, in fact, it may not even be morning anymore" He replied as he sipped his tea. It was still warm. Although a simple charm, he was cheered by the thoughtfulness of the friend before him.

"As a matter of fact it is," Hermione quickly checked her watch, "eleven forty-eight, early by your standards." She beamed at him before leaving the room to let him change.

Sleeping in was a luxury he gave himself after, well that was in the past. Harry didn't like dwelling in his past memories much, at least the darker ones. It was better that way, for everyone.

Making his way to the dresser on the adjacent wall to his bed, his feet left imprints but no noise on the plush carpet that covered the room; he pulled out black trousers and a simple red polo before heading to the bathroom. A quick shower allowed him to think about the day's plan, and he smiled as he got dressed and headed to the kitchen. Today was going to be a good day.

He couldn't help the cheer that took hold of him as he walked the familiar path toward the kitchen. This was his favorite manor of the three he owned, one in public and two in hidden locations. It was the place that Ron, Hermione, and he had bought together. It was by far not the biggest of his properties, nor was it altogether lavishly furnished, but it was home. He had always wanted a home.

----------Flashback----------

He was clenching his fist, hoping the feeling of his fingernails digging into his skin would distract himself from crying. He was too old to cry at the age of seven, he wouldn't give his uncle that satisfaction. It wasn't fair that he was being punished for coughing too loud. He had the flu, but he knew that if he said anything his punishment would be worse. Trying to keep the tears from running down his face, he wasn't able to stop the cough that pushed its way out of his throat.

"Trying to be a wise guy are you," his uncle sneered as the coughs subsided, "Haven't learned your lesson have you, boy?" Knowing it was a wasted effort to defend himself, Harry stood his ground as he saw the hand coming towards him. He was used to being slapped around by his uncle, but that didn't mean he would forgive and forget. His uncle never hit his face, not wanting the neighbors to question anything, but he remembered all the bruises, hidden under the old baggy clothes of his overweight cousin. In time he would pay. They would all pay. And then he was once again shoved into the cupboard.

----------End Flashback----------

Harry could remember every little detail he went through at his relatives. He didn't have photographic memory, but he reflected on all that had happened when he lived there; what they did to him and what he would do back.

The smell of bacon cooking brought him back to the present, but with the questioning looks he got from his best friends, he figured the anger still showed on his face.

"I thought you would have been over whatever made you so thoughtful this morning, but I made your favorite just in case" Hermione said, handing him a plate of toast and bacon.

"Thanks, I just remembered something a bit unpleasant, but I'm good now" he replied reaching for the Daily Prophet. Although he noted the looks the two friends gave each other, Harry didn't comment. He knew that his memories sometimes made him act out, but he was learning to keep his anger in control. The two knew that if he wanted to talk about it he would, and until then not to bring it up.

"You're going to want to check out the front page, it's just what we've been waiting for" supplied Ron, hoping Harry was distracted so he could steal a piece of his bacon. It was too early for him to come up with a better strategy, and it failed, for it took a lot more cunning to steal bacon from the famous Harry Potter, especially since it was his favorite.

Glancing at the Daily Prophet, Harry knew that everything was going according to plan. Reading the article, he couldn't help the upward twitch of his mouth. He had known today was going to be good, the headline, LONGBOTTOM NEW MINSTER OF MAGIC, said it all.

AN:

Well hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter….Although short I'm trying to update my chapters frequently…I know that the prologue only went up yesterday but I wanted to get this out…don't expect the rest of the updates to be as fast, but that doesn't mean it will take me a month to write a chapter…hopefully a week at the most

Thanks to everyone who reviewed…I really enjoy hearing from you no matter if it is a complaint or a compliment. Much love LP