AUTHOR'S NOTE: The characters of the story solely belong to JKR and I'm not making any money out of it

CHAPTER 3

A small boy was backing into a corner, whimpering, as a huge man was standing above him. He was small and skinny, with jet black hair and bright green eyes. He looked even more emaciated wearing clothes that were awfully big for him. There was a red handprint on his cheek and bruises on his hand.

The man was hollering at him like a maniac.

"You useless piece shit, how many times should I repeat to you no to display your unnaturalism you ungrateful freak." roared the big, beefy man.

He looked dangerous with his face an alarming shade of red, and his fat arm which he was brandishing in agitation.

Behind him stood a woman with a tall neck and a horse-like face, looking disgusted at the sight of the boy.

Beside her stood a very large boy with blond hair who was watching eagerly at what was taking place in front of him and looking as though nothing would make him happier except maybe having a chance at having a go at the skinny boy.

"We fed you, clothed you, provided a roof above you and this is how you repay us. By displaying your freakishness so that the whole world will know, you stinking pile of an …"

"Shut it," the boy shouted."

"What did you say, boy?"

"I said shut it", the boy repeated.

His uncle, aunt, and cousin looked surprised for a moment. He didn't know what made him shout at his uncle, which would only lead to more bruises, but all the years of resentment, hatred, and misery became too much to hold back any longer.

He didn't know how he ended up on top of the school roof, but he wouldn't have been there if his oaf a cousin and his gang didn't chase him.

He didn't know why weird things happened around him. Those things weren't in his control.

But he wouldn't let his so-called family do whatever they wish to him. Not anymore. He wouldn't bow down like a coward anymore. He was tired of it, the beating, the humiliation, the insults, and the bullying. At least he could do something about this.

Whatever the consequences, he wouldn't back down today.

"Are you shouting at me boy? You no-good worthless…"

"You're the worthless piece of junk, not me. I was barely fed. I live in a bloody cupboard with spiders crawling in it. I wear the rags of your fat lump of a son which would fit for four people at the same time. Making me work all the time, treating me like a slave".

"You're the lot who are ungrateful and a bunch of morons. You're.."

BAM

A beefy hand connected to the boy's jaw, and the force of the blow threw him backward. He could see stars in his head. His uncle was advancing on him, raising his ham-like fist for another blow.

"You… You…" it looked as though he can't find a suitable insult. His face was screwed up in anger and he looked the most dangerous than the boy has ever seen him. The man swung his fat fist which would surely have knocked the boy unconscious if connected.

The boy ducked the coming blow and ran past him, pushing the thin horse-like woman aside and was out the front door running away from years of neglect and abuse.

He didn't know what he would do, how he would survive. But he didn't care about it at the moment. He felt somehow lighter than he ever felt, as though he could face anything. The pain of the blows didn't bother him much. Pain was not new to him. All that mattered was he felt stronger for the first time in life.

Harry woke up abruptly from his restless sleep. It was still early in the morning. there was no noise of bustling nor the smell of bacon indicating that Mrs. Weasley is still asleep.

Harry didn't want to start his day thinking about his past. But his mind betrayed him like usual, refusing to come back from his past.

He still remembered that day in the dream vividly, it's more of a memory than a dream.

The decision to leave the house that day had made him face many hardships, more than he faced at the Dursleys.

But he never regretted that decision to this day. It made him strong, see the world from a different perspective. Not to mention those hardships were because of a decision he made rather than because his family hated the very thought of him.

A few days after that was when he first discovered his magic. That there really was something weird about him. (He didn't want to think about it as freakishness or unnaturalness.)

He remembered being hungry, his stomach aching with hunger pangs, and wishing desperately for the loaf of bread in the shop. It had miraculously come to him soaring and as luck would have no one saw it happening. He gaped at the bread in his hand wondering whether he turned delusional because of his hunger.

But hunger won over curiosity and he wolfed down half of his bread and saved the other half.

And then he started contemplating, all the weird things that had happened around him.

Growing of his hair overnight, his teacher's wig turning blue, appearing on the roof of his school, and many other things.

Now as he gave the matter a deep thought he could tell all these instances happened when he was desperate.

What if he could do them consciously he mused.

It gave him some hope that he may have some advantage in those bleak times.

He practiced it continuously, concentrated to do something, anything.

He could recall trying to move things, summon them and all the things he could think of which and things which felt wouldn't be too hard

It took him a week to do something.

He levitated the cardboard box in which he was sleeping, and he was happy for what felt like admittedly the first time.

And slowly he learned summoning and levitating and other things which helped him nick food and money.

Even though he felt ashamed for stealing things, London back street Alleys taught him to do what he needed to survive.

Using magic felt good at the time, it gave him a certain thrill. He tried to do all sort of things. Even the smallest tasks left him exhausted but after continued practising he didn't get very exhausted.

He thought it was similar to building muscle or something along those lines.

And when he thought he could survive being alone, fate became a bitch again and showed him all was not over.

He wrenched his thoughts away from the dark lane to the information he weaseled out of Remus yesterday.

Trelawny was hired in 1981, just a few months away from Halloween. She must have given the prophecy during an interview. Which must have shown Dumbledore she does have seer blood in her.

And the interview must have taken place outside Hogwarts. Dumbledore must not have taken the interview seriously or, else he would've conducted it at his office. Or was it because of safety concerns? Where would the meeting take place?

He is not very sure about it, but his instinct never led him astray. So someone must have heard it at the time( He couldn't imagine Dumbledore being careless with that sort of information.) and must have been caught and thrown outside.

Dumbledore must have known about it after the eavesdropper had been thrown out or he wouldn't have let him go away simply without atleast erasing his memory.

Something was niggling at the back of his mind. He is missing something, but for the life of him, he couldn't grasp what it was.

The sounds of pots and pans reached him indicating Mrs. Weasley was up. Harry's eyes were red and dark circles appeared underneath his eyes, which stood in stark contrast to his pale skin and the lightning bolt scar on the right side of his forehead, courtesy of a cursed knife. With the thought of practicing more occlumency and restarting his animagus training, Harry headed to the bathroom.

AUTHOR'S NOTE : I know Harry shouldn't have a lightning bolt scar. But I can't imagine him without it. So I have Neville a different one. And the story of how Harry got that scar will be revealed later into the story.

Some action and fighting will be there in one of the next few chapters.