Well, thank you for the ones who take the time to give me a rewiew.

I hope this new chapter will please you as much as the first if not more. However, I must warn you, this chapter is darker than the first so please note it before reading. This is not for sensitive hearts and rating M for a reason.

Disclaimer : Not J.K Rowling and all that... but you did know, right?

Enjoy!

Chapter 2

Hopeless

Harry, 7 years old.

Harry doesn't understand what had just happened but what he knows is that it's bad. That's really bad. His Aunt is angry. More than usually that is. Her hands tighten their grip on the handles of her purse and she forces a smile that stretches her lips pursed, leaving no doubt about her bad mood. Harry knows he's in serious trouble. But he really doesn't understand what happened. Honestly! The teacher just asked each student to color the oviparous and viviparous animals in the book in a different color and, to make sure there is no cheating, she had given pairs of different colors to each student. For Harry, it was blue for oviparous animals and left blank for viviparous. Except that when she came correcting his work, she said it was wrong, that he inverted the colors and would therefore have a very bad mark. As usual. It should not have upset him so much and yet ...

Dudley had laughed and the others had followed.

It was just so unfair! He knew he had done what she had requested and that it was she who was confused when giving him his colors. For once he had decided to rebel. Wrong move. He had said it was not his fault and that it was she who had made a mistake. She was not happy with him and replied that he would go face the corner for his insolence. Everyone began to whisper: "He is really stupid, not even able to use the right colors," "frankly, he only had to listen, he is always daydreaming," " we are wasting time anyway, what difference does it make if he gets a bad grade, he always has, "" he really is an idiot ... ". He wanted to scream. He was not stupid! He was not an idiot, he always understood everything right away, and if he had bad grades, it was only for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia for they would be angry and let him starve if he were doing better than Dudley. And she said blue! She asked him to color them in blue these bloody critters!

Then, the teacher had grabbed his arm to take him to the corner and he had begun to struggle. It hurt. Then, suddenly, the class had been silent. He looked at the teacher who had suddenly let him go. She stared at one of the locks that had escaped from her bun. The wick was blue. As was her hair. She watched at him strangely. She seemed to silently accuse him of having done that. But it was not possible, wasn't it? It was not fair that he'd punished for that. She took him in the Headmaster and the Headmaster had called her Aunt. After being back "home", he had been punished. Heavily. He did not eat until he was allowed to return to school two days later having some breakfast before leaving (a burn toast and a stolen apple). He had feared going back and facing the whispers of his quirks but no one said anything. Curiously, everyone seemed to have forgotten the incident.

Except for his relatives, obviously.

Harry, himself, was hurt enough to remember. He tried to explain he did not know what had happened, he just wanted his point of view to be heard. For them to know that he had listened and he couldn't stand to be told - again – that he was a liar. They didn't listen, of course. Of course they didn't. So, he tried to process what happened alone. Why everyone, except Dudley, his uncle and aunt didn't remember anything? It was as if it was something that needed not to be remembered but that seems silly. Like it was a secret. A hidden secret. But why? And how? What does it mean? He then recalled that it wasn't the first time such incident occurred. There was the ugly sweater her aunt had wanted him to put on, one day. It had shrunk to become the size of a doll. Her aunt had just mumbled that it must have shrunk machine and had let him go. That was strange in itself, but he hadn't stay for her to change her mind. Once he had landed on the roof of the school - it was during Miss Crawley's stay - because Dudley and his gang drove him. And the worst memory of Harry was when his aunt had wanted to "cut" hair and had shaved half his head. He was really anxious this time. He was so much laughed already at school for his bad look. He could not endure yet another humiliation. His aunt had been still speechless when she found that his hair had grown back on the night. She said nothing and never tried to cut his hair again. But there was always that glimmer in his eyes. Fear? But why?

There was probably a common feature of all this.

After the roof incident, he still had tried to apologize to Uncle Vernon, saying he had just landed there like that, like it was magic. Big mistake. The "M" word was banned from the Dursleys as were fairy tales and other "nonsense" to quote his aunt and uncle. He was beaten once more for daring to utter the forbidden word, to throw away this "thing" of his tiny body as Uncle Vernon said repeatedly. Harry didn't know what it was, but many times before, he really had whished that his Uncle would succeed if it meant that he would stop hurting him so much. But it had never worked so far. However, his uncle never ceased to try again and again. He can have a lot of will, his uncle. He thinks about it differently now. Everything seems to sharpen, to makes sense now that he accepts the possibility. Magic. The taboo word. Does it explain the weird things that keep happening around him? It all makes sense, now.

The Dursleys kept telling him that he was different, a freak and Harry really "felt" different. Of course, there was the Dudley's old clothes issue and only being allowed an express cold shower three times a week (four if lucky). Therefore, he understood and retained so quickly that classroom lessons were plain boring. But there was this little "something" in him that he had always felt but neglected to consider. He himself had been ill at ease with it at times, thinking that he didn't want to be more a freak than he already was. So there weren't any good dwelling on it, on his abnormality, hoping to make it go away. But now, what does it cost him to try? He was tired of trying to win the affection and kindness from his "family". He was always alone, he had no friends except for the books he read during breaks and at the local library, when her aunt told him to drag his freakishness upon tea time with her snobbish friends, gossiping properly as she should be without having his unnaturalness in her way. After he was done with his chores of course.

True, he just needed about two and a half hours to tidy the house (Dudley's bedroom included), vacuuming, cleaning the bathroom and kitchen. The usual. As he came home earlier than Dudley school – as his cousin was part of the club game and that he could not attend – he was more than able to take care of the house properly without the distracting – and dirtying – efforts of his cousin to make his work hell. The garden require little maintenance as he did it regularly for Aunt Petunia's need for her beds always being perfect so it only took him half an hour. Weekends and evenings, if all went well and without anything unexpected (like a big bad angry and whining Dudley breaking precious items and making him as if he was the responsible one), his Aunt put him out and refused to see him back before dinner time. He took the opportunity to devour every book he could. Mostly about history and science.

And so, there was the Magic issue.

Was it real? What if he was a ... a magician? He had taken upon him to search reference on history, science and everything to support his theory. Because it could explain a lot. Firstly, his relatives general and absolute dislike of him. This could probably be the reason he had always craved for. To understand. For a very short moment, he dreamed. He dreamed about what could it be if he wasn't "like that", if his relatives would have accepted him and made him part of their family if he had been as they are: normal. Not making them angry at him at every turn, for every reason. He shakes his head. The moment has passed and that was that. That very day, he decided that enough was enough. He had always made efforts to meet their expectations without ever having a chance of succeeding. He had only ever receive hatred and contempt from them, the school, and even the neighborhood. For nothing. There were those strange things around him when he was angry or upset but he cannot help it. That is the truth. He can't do anything about it. And it is for the best, actually. He had tried to be what he isn't and look at the results. He never fit. So, maybe he doesn't want to anymore. Perhaps it is time for him to accept the truth. To embrace it.

There is magic in him. It must be.

But how to be sure?

He decided to run a test. In his cupboard, he concentrated on the pain in his arm. A "gift" from Uncle Vernon. As a useful practice. He wanted it gone. It was bad, but not so much more than usual after a "correction". He really wanted to manage it, desperately. Not really for healing the pain itself but to prove his theory, to have something to hang on. He sweated with the effort but he was determined to succeed. To prove he was right. To find a reason. Any reason. Suddenly, he felt the change, the throbbing subsided, his arm became lighter almost. He was afraid to take a closer look, to feel his muscles for fear of waking up the pain. Slowly, he extended his arm he had curled up against his chest. Nothing. He moved his fingers. Nothing. He leaned over and shook a little with his other arm. Nothing. He lifted his sleeve to examine it. There was still blue but they were more yellow than purple. Of course the scars persist but it was already an improvement.

And it was he who had done this. Because he wanted to.

It was so exciting and surprising and... he just couldn't really believe he had made it. That he was right. He suspected, yes, very strongly, but now, it was really real. And it was opening some new perspectives. Some time ago, Harry had put words on the treatment the Dursleys make him suffer and these words are not beautiful. They are neither fair nor deserved. They just are. Without anything that can remedy the situation. He had just started to study law, the one about his case, but it's full of complex words and it's difficult to understand them. That's hard to make sense of the texts because the laws way of expressions is weird. Yet he clings. He uses the dictionary and dissects all, slowly, but he perseveres. He wants to know why the system does not protect him. He seeks a way out. But there isn't, except perhaps, the orphanage but that's not really appealing. How can he be sure it will not be worse there? The Dursleys, at least, he knows. So the magic is perhaps the beginning of a solution. However, Harry did not have time to review its discovery and its potential.

He is already asleep, exhausted by the very first conscious use of his magic.

In the morning, his mind is clearer and he is more determined than ever. He is not a Dursley, he is definitely not part of their family and will never be. No regrets in the end because there was never any hope in the first place. He is not really a Potter because it means next to nothing to him. He has no memories of that time. He is different once more. That's the only certainty, the only truth. And that is why they hate him. So Harry decides he does not want their love and affection. He does not need it or so he wants to think. He wants to be proud of what he is. Different, special, unique. He does not care to be rejected now. He will not let anyone hurt him anymore. He won't let anything or anyone break him by showing weakness. He will study, work hard, regardless of anything but his own interest. And he will wait. He will find a way to use his magic by training it. He will live for him and keep a low profile until the day when he will be older so he could show them at all. To prove that he is better than them. They will regret how they treated him. It is unclear how but they will know.

And they will pay.

Harry, 7 and a half years old.

Harry is hungry. Harry feels cold.

He is outside. Under the rain. This is not the first time but this time, he does not know what he did to earn this. There wasn't really some excuse made to punish him like that. He made no "quirks" as the Dursleys say. He did all his chores and he even helped Dudley to do his homework, it means he has done all of it while not allowed to do his own. So, that's it. They don't bother with excuses now. Harry is silent and always does everything that needs be done without making a fuss now. He is a shadow in the house. But tonight, Uncle Vernon came home once again in a bad mood. It is common now. He missed an important business today and was angry. And he was drunk. Harry knows that it is better being even more discreet than he usually is. These cases also come more often now. Her aunt is upset by the misfortune of her husband as if the loss of a deal was challenging the stability of her home Harry mentally mocks. The Dursleys are yet far from being poor. She however mumbles about invoices and bills of the house to pay in addition to the "burden" they have to raise. Harry knows she talks about him and tries to shrink as much as he can. Harry knows his Aunt, her lips and wrinkled brow are more significant to him anything. Keep the head down, not give them reason to strike, he thinks.

He made the meal again. In fact, he likes it, he finds it soothing and nobody bothers him during that time. Meals are sacred to the Dursleys. He was careful not to skimp on the portions hoping to put some aside for him this time. But, just before serving, his uncle caught him and put him outside scoffing that he and his abnormality brought misfortune upon his family and that he needed to learn not to mess with him if the little ungrateful brat he is wanted to be allowed in their home. He added that it was time for him to understand how lucky he was that he and his Aunt were willing to give him shelter and food because no one else wanted him. After all, he had been abandoned well on their doorstep.

As a package which one wanted to get rid of.

The little boy pressed himself as much as possible against the wall of the entrance to enjoy the thin edge offered by the roof before giving up because the wind was blowing the wrong way, making his efforts insignificant. And the delivery was locked. He has to wait. The neighbors paid no attention to the future criminal who was his neighborhood, knowledgeable about the "evils" of his to worry about him, afraid of the relationships and power held by the Dursleys to rub it or just saying it was not for them to get involved, preferring to turn blind eyes. Too much effort and trouble in perspective. It was not worth the trouble, isn't it?

He is not worth the trouble, blew this insidious little voice that he silenced immediately.

He sniffed in disdain. He knows he should not be treated like that. That it is neither good nor normal. This is because he is different, magical. But no one did and will do nothing. And Harry knows that no one will go against the new director of Grunnings, the man's influence has even acquaintances with senior members of the Committee of Surrey. So what does it matter if a child is just "mauled", isn't it? After all, who cares? It's not as if it was really serious, the child leaves home, goes to school so it's not as if there were really issues there ... He may be a little small for his age and a little on the thin side, but compared to his cousin, it's not a reference. Furthermore, he has the sickly type. Petunia Dursley confirmed to them, the poor lad. It's hard having to care for a child so disturbed and so ungrateful. Harry knows that this is what the neighbors say. This is useful as an excuse to hide the truth and act as if no one knew. But they did.

He really is hungry now.

His aunt doesn't give him to eat as much as before, which was already not much, and his stomach protests. It's hard to stand. So he does what he must to survive. He walks in the rain. In any case, he is already tempered, what could it change? He will probably be sick tomorrow, he knows it. So be it. He thinks on the opportunities available to him. He is determined. It will not let them win. He has projects he wants to lead. While walking, he makes his plan. Anderson's daughter is anorexic and she often takes her meals quietly in the trash where no one will notice. Harry knows it, he has surprised her more than once. He takes the little packages sometimes when he can get it all without being noticed. He chases the cats who attempt to open the trash. He knows where to look. In small brown bags thrown out the balcony before she offers to take out the trash when she can hide the add. She plays with her life. But for Harry, it's a free meal so he does not care about what she does. It suits well. He said nothing. After all, no one cares about him so why should he worry about the others? And she does what she wants after all. There is a small piece of cold chicken and some vegetables. He makes a face but it will have to suffice. Maybe he should see Mr. Gastenberg's bin? He eats almost next to nothing since his wife died.

He hides in a bush and eat slowly. He must take his time for not being hungry too soon again. And then he is never sure when he will have the opportunity to search again in the waste without getting caught. Finally, he must return to the Dursleys. They would be able to leave him outside if they did not see him coming when called. Like a dog. And he knows that there will be nowhere to go. Except maybe for the shed of Finley? Mr. Finley is sometimes distracted and often forgets to close his shed. Or at Mrs. Figg, but he does not like how she looks at him sometimes. With a kind of indifferent pity. It makes him want to hit her. It's not as if it decided her to act, it is always as if nothing had happened. No, Harry knows that it is better to try to get into the good graces of the Dursleys.

For the time being.

They are not really within reach, in fact. But Harry tries to satisfy them more or less, he does only the minimum required. Harry knows, with a terrible lucidity that shouldn't be allowed for any child to know, while shivering in his wet clothes, that there is no one who cares about him. He doesn't care much about it. It would not have mattered anyway. Wait until they want him back (probably to do the dishes). Accept that he was going to be punished for being wet. Accept that no one cares he is badly shivering. Simply accept that there is one for him. He does not question the thing now. It is a fact. A simple and cold fact. But a hard truth to learn. Harry is not made to be loved, he knows it. He is alone and no one gives a shit about it.

And he hates them for that, all of them.

Harry, 8 years old.

Harry does not know laughter. Harry does not know smile. He hasn't practiced enough to remember. Harry hardly speaks but it's not as if he had someone to talk anyway. Harry has learned to hold back his cries and tears when the blows are coming. Harry has become really good at that. Harry does not care anymore that no one not pays attention or laughs at him. It's his life. He seems almost indifferent and it makes he scary. He has no parents. He has no friends. But he survives. He deliberately did not get good grades in school because if he does her aunt punishes him. What if they say he is stupid? He knows better. He studied at the library or in the evening in his closet, when everyone is sleeping with the flashlight he had stolen to Dudley. Because he likes it. He does not care to get caught. One beating more or less doesn't change anything. Even without that, he gets one regularly because of his "freakishness" it seems. Harry does not care, he loves his magic and if it can piss the Dursleys off, the better.

He hates them.

Harry does not remember what it means to be happy when he looks the others. He watches his Aunt Petunia kissed gently one Dudley who protests that he is too big for it while still letting her do it. The horse-faced of his aunt becomes almost handsome while her mother's eyes lit up with tenderness. Before, Harry would have wanted to be looked at as well. Now he understood that it would never happen while he acts as if it's not something worth of interest. Sometimes he looks at the children playing in the park when he returns from the grocery store where his aunt sent him. He sees them having fun and before he would have liked play and share their games. But not anymore. He would not know how to behave. He felt like he is part of another world. They are so carefree. Harry has lost that spark a long time ago. He feels old.

But Harry has his notebooks and study books. He has most of the time, "borrowed" them from the librarian or the teacher when their backs were turned. He is very clever for that, he never have been caught so far. He knows how not to get noticed, do as if he was not there. This is one of the rules of the Dursleys and it is a very convenient one from this point of view. Harry knows how to get forgotten. He takes what he needs and he does not see what the wrong is with that. No one will deny him that. He needs to prove himself that he is not stupid. He just needs to keep this a secret for now. He doesn't know yet until when but he must learn. Quickly. And understand all of it alone because no one will care to verify or explain. That's it. He is not stupid. It's just all lies.

His aunt refused to buy him a card for the library. Why spend money for the burden he is, isn't he? But Harry realized a long time ago that if he wants something, he must rely on himself to get it. AND he loves to read so he continues to take the books without permission. He takes them back after reading anyway. Usually. Some he really likes so he keeps them. He loves history. First the one of Great Britain, then he began to study the whole world: Europe, the United States, China ... He studied history but also what has preceded, it goes back to ancient Paleolithic, the first men and he pays attention to the new discoveries. He always wants to know more about others like him and where they could come from. He sought in these ledgers something that would explain where he comes from, why he lives. But apart from some obscure stories of witch-hunting and shamanic cults, he did not learn much useful things. So he turns for economic and political mechanisms because it is a fascinating mystery with secrets, false and true information and he just loves to try to understand.

He loves puzzles and mysteries. He likes puzzle games such as Chinese puzzles of various shapes which always offer him new challenges. You just have to find the right combination and think logically. This gave him a taste for mathematics. He loves numbers and their absolute logic. If you apply the right method, you will always get a result set. The rules are clear. Addition, subtraction, multiplication and division. He loves it. But that's not enough then it began to want more. He tries to create his own math problems to solve. It also gave him a taste for science. He loves chemistry experiments carried out at school. Mix components and see what results you can get. It's fascinating. So he took it upon himself to read various popular science magazines. It's just exciting. But what Harry loves most is that he learns as he wants, and at his own pace as he sees fit. There is no one to tell him what to do or how he can change the terms whenever he wishes, move from history to economics to science and no one to come to reprimand or prohibit anything . It's freedom!

He isolates himself in this universe and this routine that he created. Sometimes it is frustrating of not understanding something but he doesn't give up and tries to find the answers in other books, other dictionaries. And he doesn't support when he doesn't find the right answer. But anger must be suppressed. He has no interest in being noticed. He doesn't dare asking because he knows he is barely tolerated there. The librarian look hotly at him, he knows it. Yet he takes good care of the books. Not like Dudley. But as he's being accused of every damage his cousin does ... And also, at the library, he can see people come and go and he takes time to observe, discreetly and without being noticed. This is one of his favorite hobbies. Decode the attitudes, gestures and tones of voice, what they say and do not say. This gives him the tools against the Durlseys and even against all of the others.

Observing others is just fascinating. Adults even more.

Their voices are saying things and their bodies are saying others. Adults tell many lies. Harry knows it. Mrs. Thompson always lies to his aunt when she comes to demonstrate her beauty products and Petunia asks her if a certain lipstick color looks good on her. As if anything could arrange the ugly horse-like face of his aunt Harry mocks. Mrs Thompson wears then a fake smile and her head leans slightly to the side while her right hand rubs absently the corner of lips that smile a bit too much to be natural. But what it's most interesting in Harry's book is that everyone always betrays themselves in very much the same way.

He wondered how no one notices.

This makes him proud to be the only one who knows all these little dirty secrets.

And their voices and words change too. This is a set of reaction that Harry is passionate about trying to understand and capture with his eyes, sharpening his focus through his bad vision, to follow the process and the evolution of their attitudes and the meanings behind them. It is almost intuitive. The unctuous voice of Aunt Petunia when she answers to the phone before changing almost imperceptibly according to the person she is speaking with. She does not use the same language depending on the person. Everybody behave according to the people they are with, their current mood and social environment. It's incredibly complex and exciting.

The observation's skill of the child sharpened but did not always help him escape his Uncle's wrath nor the «jokes» pulled on him by Dudley. However, it allows him to have some break sometimes. Not that he hopes for an improvement. Time has passed since he no longer believes in fairy tales even though he still loves the legends that speak of dragons, sorcerers and magic potions while he needed to focus on something trivial. He does not think that his behavior or his talents that he carefully hides will make things for him. He only does this by interest and convenience. He took it upon himself to discipline his body language. He spotted the signs that he needs to show the Dursleys: submission, obedience and gratitude. He had to erase any sign, even unconscious of rebellion, of disrespect and contempt. It was a long apprenticeship to master the natural reactions of his body. But it had paid off. He was just a little fool slave to everyone. He did not care. One day, he will reveal his true self. Patience. That way at least he has more time for him. The less you notice him, the more he feels good, almost safe.

Harry is no longer waiting to be told that it is worthy or to be given comfort. He does not need that. He is sure (or, at least he thinks so). He is worth better than that. He is building his own destiny. And dreams. The readings of fantastic tales have a delicious forbidden taste that allows him to escape from reality in the world that he created himself . So when he comes back, it's easier to bear. Anyway, he has his own tools now. He does what it is asked of him even though it is never enough but it taught him to observe others because he has long sought in their behavior what was lacking in his to be loved. Something that had been proved highly counterproductive. And then, there was that day, he had decided to abandon. It seems as if it was a long time ago now. He stopped looking. He ceased to hope foolishly. But he continued to observe, for entertainment but especially because of its usefulness. His perceptions are really refined now.

Decode the his family's attitudes, the ones of his teachers and neighbors allowed him to avoid "trouble" several times even though it does not work every time. His family does not always act logically so it's not always easy to understand and they often very quickly change of mood. But Harry has persevered. He knows he could never avoid all the beatings or the cruel words that are thrown at him. The Dursleys like too much to give him trouble, to have power and control over him. But Harry learns and clings to his projects. He learned to acknowledge the heavy step of his uncle when he is drunk, how the front of his Aunt wrinkles when she is upset. He also learned to anticipate the plans of Dudley when he prepares a blow against him. But he hasn't limited himself to them. And he understands more and more the reason for their actions.

He searched in the attic during the holidays when the Durley left him home alone with barely enough food to survive and instructed him not to get noticed by not going out of the house, locking it up. He found some old photo albums that had not been opened for a long time. He had seen pictures of what he guessed were his grandparents with two children by their side. He easily acknowledged his aunt with her surly air already printed on her face and with her eyes full of envious jealousy towards the second child on the photo. Harry could not see who it was because someone had meticulously cut out the silhouette of this child in each photo of the albums. Harry realized that it must have been his mother and he hated more than ever his aunt for what she had done. He could only guess from what was left of the photographs cut. But he had only succeeded in frustrating himself. Her aunt had done a good job.

However, he learned several things: Aunt Petunia had hated his mother as much as she had envied her. About his father, he didn't know where he came from but he could only assumed that objectively he would surely represent a new element to remind Petunia that she was less well endowed than her sister or something. And inevitably, with such a backlog of hatred, she had to share her feelings with his dear uncle. And as her husband, he had evidently made up his mind without thinking. Uncle Vernon was not really the thinking type anyway and it gave him an excuse to get carried away and report the fault of his bad temper on another person. Harry in this case. And Dudley had just followed.

But Harry has a refuge, a place where they left him alone. This is only an illusion of course but in his closet, it feels like home. It is home. Harry's room. No one seeks him there; he can do what he , he hides his notebooks and his favorite books. All of his "treasures", his broken pencils, notebooks abandoned by Dudley with torn pages. The printing pages from the school secretary office and everything that he had come to gather around. However, he stopped to hang his drawings on the walls of his "room." Once, her aunt opened the cupboard, probably to air it a little because of the smell of dried blood and dried urine, probably as for not disturbing the circle of her friends coming for tea and she threw all of them in the trash bin. After he realized that he was better without any. And regularly he asks permission for cleaning the place with the consent of her aunt. In class, he has no choice but to do even worse than Dudley, but he insists on learning and understanding. And copy everything in his notebooks that he will not forget. There are many things that he must exercise to not leave anything being obliterated.

His body grows but less than Dudley who takes as much in width and magnitude. He hates his body. He does not dare looking in the mirror to see the extent of his injuries, and more. It is too ugly to bear it. His hair is growing in all directions and gives him bad word from his Aunt to "comb this mop of hair of his". Besides, He is small and puny. He is weak and he can't stand the proof of it. The only thing he can stand are his eyes, but even that is not a good thing. They eat his face; they shine too much, like a toad. They only add to his ugliness in his opinion. So yes, he is ugly but at least he is not stupid. This is what comfort him a bit anyway. That and his skills for observation. He cultivates it to the point of obsession.

He does not need much sleep so he often works at night. When he is not too hurt, obviously. Her aunt does not like the neighbors seeing his face when Uncle Vernon could not remember to not let any visible traces. When he had been really bad but more often just because of nothing. It's just something he has learned to accept and tolerate waiting the right time to respond. It's just like his uncle to let off steam, he knows it. It takes advantage of the quick hand of his uncle and had learned to play along. He pretends sometimes just to save him time alone in his closet. Not that it always works well but it doesn't stop him to try. He has taught himself to act. To give them the image that is expected of him.

He heals quickly thanks to his magic. It's hard to channel it though. He focuses on small objects to make them move. It takes time and it's exhausting. And his body has to keep all his energy to not fail. It happens more and more easily though but he lacks confidence in his abilities to use them on his family. But he reassures himself by thinking he has time. Time to train. He knows how to be patient. He tries with heavier objects, methodically reducing the time to successfully move them and then to raise them. He thinks he could do more if he wasn't constantly exhausted by the drudgery and lack of food but it is okay. There is nothing else that he can do about it anyway.

Magic is really fabulous otherwise. It makes him special and he loves to be different. This is something that Dudley and his uncle and aunt can't take from him, something that belongs to him and him alone. If he remembered what it was to be happy, he would probably say that magic makes him be. It's very useful and sometimes surprising. Some time ago, Mrs. Strugberg, the librarian of the district, caught him with a book hidden under the shirt three times too big for him when he was about to go out and grabbed him by the arm. He was deeply frightened. He did not want his aunt to be informed or worse, his uncle. He could no longer return to the library; he could no longer borrow books and forgot the rest of the world.

It couldn't be. He couldn't bear it.

He had looked into her eyes and wished with all his might as the cantankerous old girl would just let him go, hat she would say nothing and forgets about the book hidden under the old clothes of his cousin. To his surprise, the librarian had a moment of confusion and her eyes were glassy before recovering and frowning when she found that she was holding him by the arm. She then had dropped him before ordering him curtly to leave while returning to her office . It gave new perspectives to Harry. He had just to train. Not upon humans, no (not yet), it would be noticed. And it could fail. Then he tried on animals, to submit them to his will. Molar, the beloved dog of the dear Aunt Marge, had been the very first on his list. His first success. It really was a shame this car accident, Harry thought. He hated that dirty pooch so much. It got what it deserved. It was not cruelty, it was just a question to test and perhaps, in revenge for all the times he had to climb trees and stay in hiding for hours waiting for the mutt to be recalled. Just reward indeed. Harry looks forward to the moment when he could do the same on people.

Upon his "family", indeed.

Harry, 8 and three quarters years old.

Harry is worried. His uncle looks strangely at him lately. He tells him that he has grown but it does not sound like a compliment. And he often crosses the bathroom when he has the right to wash. Uncle Vernon had even asked that he can bath more often. He said it was to avoid questions of people. But Harry knows better. There are those times when Aunt Petunia is going out and where he is alone with Uncle Vernon as Dudley is at Piers or other of his friends and Harry does not like what his Uncle does. He starts watching TV and asks him to sit next to him. It puts a DVD in the drive, one of these discs behind the books he never opened in the library. He puts his fat fingers on his thigh, caressing it while the other ... Harry does not like watching Uncle Vernon's movies. And he does not like watching Uncle Vernon when he looks at these films.

There are boys in Uncle Vernon's movies. They are always naked. And there are men. Uncle Vernon loves them, those films. He passes his hand in his pants and his face always ends up being red, as if about to faint. Afterwards, he enjoys spending his hands on his shoulders and his large hands sometimes linger on the buttocks of Harry and ... there. That puts him uncomfortable, he does not like it but he does not know how to react. They are always moist, the hands of his uncle. And he sometimes is asked to remove his shirt to pass his hand over his stomach and chest but he did not ask Harry to do what the other boys in the movies. Not yet, whispers the little voice in his head.

Besides, Harry does not know what they do as he always diverts his eyes somewhere else when the noise of the people on the TV increases and when Uncle Vernon starts breathing heavily. He does not know and doesn't want to. He feels it's something wrong. Today, Uncle Vernon came early and Harry feels that he is once again drunk. It's a bad sign, Harry knows it. Aunt Petunia does not like that either and takes this as an excuse to take Dudley to the grocery store to get an ice cream while waiting for his " drunken of a husband" to sober. She is very angry and words fuse. Aunt Petunia gets fed up and leaves, slamming the door. Uncle Vernon just drank too much and too often lately.

They argue as much. And Uncle Vernon watches his films often as of late.

As soon as she left, Uncle Vernon asks Harry to come. He is badly drunk and goes automatically to the bar for serving himself more easily before deciding glasses weren't needed, drinking at the bottle while flopping on the couch with floral motifs. He barks to him to undress. He is furious and his uncle is dangerous when he accumulates anger and alcohol. Harry is too surprised to react properly. His uncle then grabbed his shirt and torn it before removing his baggy pants. Harry doesn't know what to do, scared as he is. He never saw his uncle like that and doesn't know how to act. He tries to think for a strategy in order to step out without too much damage, but found nothing. His mind is empty.

Harry gets scared, really scared. It paralyzes and he can't force himself to move. He can't concentrate on his magic, she seems to flee him, betraying him. When she was the most needed, there is nothing. Uncle Vernon down the underwear that was once Dudley's. And then, his pants. Noisily. And he is sweating. So much. His big sausage for fingers pass over his buttocks on his chest ... and also… there. Harry tries to retreat but the grip of his uncle is too strong, stronger than him. He uses his other hand to loosen his belt but this time not to hit Harry. He lowered his pants which falls on his ankles. His sex is horrible, straight and puffed. So ugly.

- Suck me.

Harry does not want to but the iron fist of his uncle forces him to approach this thing glowing ... and turgescent.

- You have no interest in trying to bite or escape, boy, for if you do I could really get me... angry..

Harry knows Uncle Vernon is not joking and that he has no choice.

oOo

Aunt Petunia and Dudley have returned as if nothing had happened. Uncle Vernon is in a good mood now and he easily reconciles with his wife by inviting her to the theater the next day. Her aunt does not like that he drinks so much but the opportunity to go out make it up for her to reconcile with her husband. As if nothing had changed. But Harry, he, knows. He keeps thinking about it even if he tries not to but can't help it. Harry is shut up in his closet and tries not to vomit what his uncle forced him to swallow. Even if he really wants to. He tries to forget those fingers which dug and stained him from the inside, and the hand that caressed in places where it should never have been. Now Harry knows what is in the films of Uncle Vernon. Above all, he tries to forget what would have happened if Aunt Petunia had not returned sooner than expected, if Uncle Vernon had not heard the car up the driveway, had it not been forced to stop ... He feels disgusted, weak and helpless. Terrorized, paralyzed.

And dirty. So dirty.

oOo

It's been a week since "the incident" and Harry had put all of his talent to avoid being alone with Uncle Vernon. He feels that it irritates him. He even paid attention to being beaten in front of his Aunt. It is pitiful. Harry is so worried that he can no longer concentrate on his chores or study without his hands shaking. He is afraid of his uncle as never before. Corrections, screams and insults, he can deal with, he's used to. But that ... That morning, Uncle Vernon seemed cheerful, even joyful. It's always bad news in Harry's book. The child will not know why until his aunt ordered him to come prepare the luggage of Dudley as they were going to visit Aunt Marge on the weekend before leaving for vacation.

Vernon has to remain as he has "significant business going on" before joining them on Sunday morning she said to him absently, not noticing that the boy froze. She said that she would left him something to eat during their absence, which is limited to a few cans and a loaf of bread already half stale. His tone is colder when she reminds him that he had better not to get noticed. And to do all of the chores' list for their return. Uncle Vernon went whistling that morning asking Harry to bring him his briefcase before slipping into his ear that they could resume soon "where they had stopped last time, without fearing of being disturbed ".

His uncle was smiling grimly as he was speaking and Harry made a decision.

oOo

He puts the suitcases in the trunk of the car and looks at them going this Saturday morning. His uncle called from within but he does not intend to go. Harry, being unable to express his emotions anymore, has worked an incredible sense of observation, perception and understanding almost frightening by his logic and rationality towards the world where he lives. He does not know whether this is right or if it's wrong. It's just like that. He knows he has nowhere to go and he knows that no one will believe or would be powerless to help him. Ms. Crawley wanted to help. But Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were stronger than she was and they won. And the others acted as if nothing had happened. There is no one to rely on. Even his magic abandoned him when needed. He also knows he can't escape forever his uncle, and even if he escapes for now, he will eventually be found and forced to return. For Uncle Vernon could finish what he started when "no one could come to disturb him". For this horrible smile on his face to take place. For Harry to be forced to act like in the movies. He is aware he is only eight years old and that he can't survive alone, but he does not want to return and accept that.

He can't. He doesn't want to. He won't.

He gets the little bundle that he had prepared and discreetly hidden in the bushes. There are the things the most precious to him in it. In the same time, It's the only things that he really own. He will throw them away as soon as he can because he doesn't want to leave them at the Dursleys. Never mind if he never sees them again, they will remain his secret. His very own secret. He runs away, through the gardens without being noticed while he hears his uncle yelling at the top of his lungs against him. He will not return. Never. He won't let them win. He reaches the bus stop and pay a ticket to London with the little money he has, or rather the one that he had stolen from his Aunt wallet when she wasn't looking.

The sky is gray, but he does not care. He wants to enjoy the trip. For that day will be his last one.

Well, end of the prologue part.

Next time, in two weeks from now, there will be the meeting between our little boy and the dark Potions Master.

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