Disclaimer: Everything is owned by JK Rowling, I'm merely playing with the characters and the magical world.

A/N: This is my very first attempt at writing fan fiction. I'm super excited. I have most of the story in my head. This is just the prologue as I wanted to test out how publishing works on fanfiction.

Prologue

The Boy Who Lived, Again

Surrey was an ordinary British town, Little Whinging was an ordinary British neighbourhood, Privet Drive was an ordinary British steet and the car pulling into the driveway of the perfectly ordinary looking number four seemed to be a perfectly ordinary car. Yet, the occupants of this car were as far from ordinary as possible. One of the occupants to be precise. It was a lanky boy, with jet black hair, a kind face and round glasses. Perhaps what was most extraordinary about this boy was the lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. This boy was indeed, Harry Potter.

As the car pulled into number four's driveway it became clear that the occupants inside were really upset. Nobody uttered a word as the boy opened his door and stomped inside angrily the moment the car came to a halt. The snowy white owl in the cage he carried hooted angrily at being handled roughly. "We're not dragging your stuff inside boy!", yelled Uncle Vernon after him. Uncle Vernon, the head of the Dursley family was a wide as he was tall if not wider. He had a meaty face, meaty hands and a meaty moustache. His face looked a cross between anger and fear as he glanced around the house as of looking for Russian spies. Then he started stomping towards the door himself declaring to no one in particular - "Get his stuff inside!"

As he walked away, the two other occupants of the car looked at each other in disbelief. The woman, Petunia Dursley looked as different from Vernon as she possibly could. In all honesty, she looked more like Harry than the other two Dursleys. Tall and thin, her features could best be described as hawkish. It seemed like she was deep in thought for all but two seconds before her features morphed into the same anger and fear displayed by Vernon. She looked around nervously before turning to her son, "Dudley dear, your cousin is not well, why don't you bring his stuff into the house and I'll get dinner going." With that she started walking towards the front door herself, leaving a boy, about as wide as he was tall, gaping at her with his mouth hanging open.

Dudley could not believe what had just happened, he'd just witnessed his father being bullied by freaks at the train station and now it seemed his parents wanted him to pick up Harry's luggage and bring it into the house for him. This was outrageous, Dudley was not going to stand for this. You see, Dudley Dursley had been brought up without an ounce of decency. He started bullying Harry, with the encouragement of his father, since before he could speak. Ofcourse, since it took him a lot longer than usual to speak that might have been a factor. At the age of 16 he was already ripe to have a heart attack. He was about 200 pounds overweight with a chubby body and a chubby face. It was this chubby face that was contorted with blind rage at the moment. No! Dudley was not going to stand for this. How could the freak dare to presume he would bring up his stuff like some common mule. He'd teach him a lesson, and he'd teach him that lesson right now.

With that final thought Dudley stomped towards the front door, he banged it open eliciting a shriek from Petunia who stood in the hallway frozen at the look Dudley had on his face right now. She did not know but this was the look that was always on Dudley's face when he was about to beatup or bully younger kids at school. She stood frozen as Dudley raced up the stairs as fast as he could, which wasn't quite fast to be honest. And there was another loud BANG as her son crashed through the door of the smallest bedroom of number four.

"You freak!" he bellowed at a stunned Harry. Hedwig screeched. "You think you can get away with this? Having those freaks at the train station threaten us. You will get what you deserve this time, and no one will come to save you." With that Dudley took two large steps and grabbed Harry by his collar yanking him straight off the floor. BAM! A right hook, Harry's glasses flew off and he heard rather than feel his nose break. BAM! Another right hook and Harry was starting to loose consciousness. Dudley let go of him and Harry's feet immediately gave way. He crashed to the floor and tried to squint through the blood dripping down his eyebrow where Dudley's finger ring had made a puncture wound. He could vaguely see the outline of Dudley's huge body grabbing something long off the table, and then swing it towards his head. Harry raised his right hand weakly to protect his face.

BAM!

And with that every single glass in Number 4, Privet Drive shattered into a million pieces. This BAM was like a canon fire which shook the entire street. Car alarms were blaring and dogs were barking as Petunia tried get herself off the floor outside the room to where she had hurried after her son. The door had broken clean off its hinges. There air inside was dusty and the wooden walls were splintered. The Harry was lying in the center of the room with his face covered in blood and his arm outstretched. His eyes were staring at the wall besides her. She followed his gaze and shrieked at the sight that met her. Her Dudley was lying face down in the corner of the room totally unconscious with his arm sticking out at an angle that arms generally should not stick out at.

The last thing Harry saw was Petunia shrieking and hurrying towards Dudley. And then, there was darkness.