The morning of November 1st, Vernon Dursley waddled down the stairs in a jolly mood, his life was perfect, he had an excellent job, a (to him) beautiful wife and a (again, to him) handsome boy for a son. All of this changed when he opened the door to see a baby wrapped up in a blanket, envelope attached to it, trying to wrangle out of the tight confines.

A bit confused at first Vernon bent down to look the baby over.

'What the devil is going on here, does my house look like a church?' he thought before he caught the eye of the baby in question.

Green eyes.

Vernon flinched back a step.

Comprehension dawned on him.

"PET!" he bellowed, taking the letter and baby inside, the sound of a woman scrambling to get to her husband filled the second floor as a loud wail from another baby erupted.

"Vernon! You woke Dudder's up!" Petunia Dursley hissed moments later, coming down the stairs with a balling infant in her arms. Then the thinly built woman caught sight of what was in her husband's arms.

"Who…is that?" she asked, horrified at the meaning of another baby in her husband's arms, where did this one come from.

'Was this another baby from someone that Vernon was having an affair with?' her mind started racing with all kinds of scenarios before Vernon handed her the envelope into her free hand, carefully taking Dudley from her so she had the freedom to open and read the contents freely.

Vernon waited patiently for his wife to finish reading, who was by the end of reading the letter, incensed.

"Those…freaks!" she spat.

"Pet…?" He asked, a little nervous, his wife was rarely this angry.

"Put that boy down, Vernon!" she demanded. "That's my freak of a sister's son!"

Vernon dropped the bundled up baby boy like a hot potato, who landed with a thud on his back and started crying. This in turn started to make Dudley squirm in Vernon's other arm, the noise of Harry's crying making him upset. Vernon grunted as he repositioned Dudley, making a decision on the crying infant on the floor.

"Put the freak under the stairs." he decided, giving up on settling his own son and handing Dudley back to Petunia before picking up the infant Potter and roughly depositing him in the cupboard under the stairs, where he would eventually take up residence within, with deadbolt locks added on as the years went by.

Little would the Dursley's realize, that their future treatment of their nephew would spell disaster for everyone.

o.o

Over the years of his young life Harry had been exposed to a lot of methods that should have killed him, but found himself strangely unharmed after a brief intense bout of pain, he'd been bitten by many different spiders that scuttled across the gardens he worked on, a few breeds of snake and their venoms that Harry had come across as he was locked outside in the shed for doing something 'freakish', he'd even broken his neck when Dudley had pushed him off the high slide at the nearby park.

As with every other method that was used for Harry to meet the reaper, after it happened the first time, that method wouldn't work again.

This didn't mean that Harry couldn't be hurt, but the method that would have killed him would barely be felt, as Harry found out when he was bitten by a snake he recognized a second time and barely felt a tickle as the reptile's fangs sank into his flesh.

By the age of 10 Harry had attained a pain tolerance that was mind breaking to others, and after being chased after school and dying from blunt force trauma via a bashing from Dudley's hooligan buddies and Dudley himself, Harry barely felt any physical pain whatsoever anymore.

This in turn, helped Harry shrug off the many threats made from his Aunt and Uncle about showing up their son in school; especially after breathing through a strangulation attempt from Vernon's belt as if there was no strap of leather trying to constrict his windpipe.

That had let to them depriving him of essential food and water, Harry's body shutting down after a week and then finally dying, to be revived incapable of being starved of essential nutrients or any crucial sustenance that would be necessary to maintain a working, liveable body.

The day after Harry revived from being starved to death, Harry emerged from his cupboard, an eerie calm about him he hadn't had before; strangely enough the slow, snail's pace of dying from hunger and dehydration had awakened a state of mind within Harry's subconscious, even if Harry himself was not aware of it yet.

Simply put Harry couldn't get scared or anything remotely close to the feeling of fright.

"It's taken me ten years to reach this point…but thanks to you two, Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and even Dudley to a degree, I can't die. Isn't that cool?" Harry said with what could have been a happy smile if his eyes weren't flaring with emerald light.

"Freak!" Petunia screamed before lunging at Harry with a knife, a broad blade with a tapered point, seven inches long, poised to stab at Harry. Harry for his part didn't even flinch as the steel sank into his flesh over and over, the ratty garments he was wearing quickly dying to a crimson red as blood oozed from the gashes Petunia was inflicting.

"Why won't you die!?"

"Well, if I had to guess," Harry started, ignoring the bladed steel slashing at his baggy clothed body. "I would say it was magic, but you've always said there's no such thing as magic, quite a few times too; so I have to wonder if you're telling the truth." Harry then took hold of Petunia's wrist and seized the knife from her struggling hand.

"Allow me to show you." He said before rolling up a sleeve of his ruined top and slashed his wrist, then did the same to his neck, slitting it from ear to ear.

Then, just to freak them out even more, he reversed gripped the knife and plunged the large kitchen utensil into his chest where his heart was located.

"You're a monster!" Petunia decried. "I knew you were a monster the moment my freak sister said she was pregnant with you!"

"I am what I am because of you, dear aunt. Now since we've established that killing me is now impossible, let's get to the heart of all this." Harry giggled madly. "Get to the heart, get it? Because I stabbed myself in the heart?" shock horror as plastered across Vernon and Petunia's face's.

"Bah, you're no fun. So I've come the conclusion you've been lying to me about a lot of things, I want the truth now." Harry stated. This seemed to snap Vernon out of his horror induced stupor.

"So what if we can't kill you, you freak! You can't do anything to us before we beat the stuffing out of you." He spat, his face quickly colouring.

"Yes, well that would be true, except that your idiot of a son and his friends beat me to death one day on the way home from school not that they knew it then but well you can't really life through too many blows to the ground, something about me showing him up in class, not that that was really very hard to do, a brick is smarter than him I swear. But as I was saying, you can try beat me up, but I've already died like that, so that won't work, and as you can see," Harry pulled he knife out of his heart. "I am the one with a weapon, and you aren't; thank you for that by the way Aunt Petunia, it was such a thoughtful gift. So about the truth you were about to tell me…" Harry said, one of his fingertips idly playing with the tip of the kitchen knife covered in blood.


AN: Not nearly what i had in mind, but as a lot of you might know, it can be very hard to write out what you want to express a lot of the time.

if you have any suggestions on how Harry could possibly die that doesn't involve those mentioned above, tell me and i'll see that it gets added somehow.

Note that doubling up on the same method won't count.