A/N: I'm glad most of you liked the last chapter. It was unique, as I said, as most of this story will be. I believe that part of it sprang from The Price We Pay by Ilmare2, the influence of the situation is definitely present but the added flavor of Harry is my own decision. All right, I'll stop ranting now and get onto the story.

Disclaimer: Do not own, do not own, do not own...Trails of on tangent

My Immortal Soul

Chapter 2-My New Friend

In Little Whinging, Surrey, everyone liked to consider themselves normal. They led normal lives, had normal jobs, and normal families. Needless to say, none of them appreciated when something out of the ordinary happened. The Dursleys of Number Four Privet Drive were among this lot, believing that their way of life should be a social standard and that any deviation from it was altogether totally scandalous and therefore completely unacceptable. Unfortunately for them, Petunia Dursley was the sister of a witch, an extremely powerful one too. Said sister had married an extremely powerful wizard and the two of them had produced an extraordinary child, one Harry Potter.

Now, no one on Privet Drive knew this detail of the Dursleys' lives; it was their dark secret, one they kept a tight reign on. However, as most secrets do, it came out of the closet and landed on their doorstep in the form of one year, three months, and one day old Harry who had been sleeping peacefully until his Aunt Petunia had woken him with her screams. Which, of course, he answered with his own.

So began Harry Potter's life with the Dursleys and as much as he tried to conform to their thoughts of normal, he failed miserably. Unlike Dudley he was an exceptional student though few of his teachers acknowledged this fact, being all too normal themselves. He was small and skinny for his age, not even three and a half feet tall at the tender age of eight. His unruly, windswept raven hair had a habit of falling in front of his eyes which were, as he liked to think, his most remarkable feature. He'd read about the deep green of the heart of the jungle and thought that described his eye color rather well. What was his most peculiar feature was the lightening shaped scar on his forehead. It had been one of the first questions he'd dared to ask his aunt but had received no more than "It came from the car accident you and your parents were in. And don't ask questions!"

Don't ask questions was a cardinal rule of the Dursley family, one that Harry, being as naturally curious as a cat, found difficult to follow. He nearly always managed to curb his inquisitive nature around his relatives; a survival instinct. Vernon Dursley hated Harry's guts with a passion that the boy found daunting most of the time. What had he, in his short eight years of life, done to his Uncle to make him feel like that?

After close examination Harry discovered that it was merely the fact that he existed that drove the man to the brink of insanity. If it weren't for the fact that he beat Harry nearly every night, he would have likely killed him years ago. The green-eyed boy knew he was an outlet to the man's anger and did not know how to solve that problem short of committing suicide which, despite his living conditions, he was not about to do.

So you see the life of Harry Potter was not as wonderful as his unknown world had hoped but he would not discover that for years to come. At the moment he was trying to squirm away from the death grip that Vernon had on his arm.

"BOY!" Spit flew from his Uncle's mouth, spraying his face. His stomach twisted in disgust. "I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO BE DONE WITH THOSE CHORES WHEN I GOT HOME!" Ah yes, "those chores." What "those chores" consisted of were mowing the lawn, weeding the garden, painting the fence (not that anyone would notice the difference as he'd only painted it last week), scrubbing the kitchen floor, dust the living room, and preparing dinner. Harry had only gotten as far as scrubbing the floor, his hands nearly raw to the point of bleeding because of it, when his Uncle had arrived home. Really, what had the man been expecting? Harry was only eight after all.

"ANSWER ME, BOY! WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF?" Harry didn't have a lot to say for himself. When he'd arrived home from school he'd flew through his homework, wanting it out of the way before he tackled the physical work. Usually he saved it for last but that always ended in disaster as he was so exhausted when he finished his work that he would literally fall into bed without even touching his books. His teachers had warned him that if he failed to turn in his homework in once more he would have to serve detention and that was the last thing he wanted. That meant he would have to remain after classes had ended for the day and clean some stuffy old bat's classroom. By the time he'd finished that he'd never be able to finish his work at the Dursleys and he'd be in a real pickle then. Not that his teachers would understand that. In the end, it seemed, his plan had backfired and received the same result as if he'd gotten detention. Just wonderful.

"I'm s-sorry U-uncle V-vernon! I had h-homework!" he pleaded, hoping the man would at least be a bit merciful. The man's insane laugh was not reassuring.

"Homework? You were doing homework? More likely you were trying to figure out a way to turn Dudley into a toad..."

Harry sighed; somehow, someway, it always returned to this. What was with this man's obsession with witchcraft? "Uncle Vernon, I don't know how to do magic..." Harry reminded but upon seeing the other's face began to purple, he realized he should have just kept his mouth shut.

"NEVER SAY THE 'M' WORD IN THIS HOUSE AGAIN YOU INSOLENT BRAT!!!" He pushed the boy away enough to backhand him soundly across the face. Harry instinctively crumpled to the floor, touching his face where he knew that a bruise was already blooming. Wonderful, now he would have to come up with another story to explain where it came from, as if he hadn't concocted enough of those...

He was brought back to the present by a sharp kick in his ribs that, so unprepared for, knocked the wind from him. Clutching his stomach and wheezing painfully he did not resist when he was hauled to his feet by his collar and thrown into the kitchen.

"Get to work, boy, and if I see you slacking off again, I promise you will not get off so easily." His threat made the man left him, stomping upstairs to change before he joined his wife and son in the living room to watch the telly.

Harry fell to his knees and stayed there for a moment, desperately trying to regain his breath. He wanted to have started on dinner before his uncle came back downstairs and decided, since he wasn't working hard enough, to dole out another punishment. It would also give him a chance to snatch food for himself. He had always been thin but now he was wraith-like and worried. He knew that he could not survive on the meager sustenance that the Dursleys provided, he was a growing boy and while his last wish was to be as big as Dudley, he still needed more than what he was given. With a sigh he set up the table and wrapped his food in a napkin, stuffing it in his pocket. After Uncle Vernon's behavior earlier there was no way there were going to intentionally give him food. Peeking into the living room he announced that it was ready before hurrying to his cupboard.

Another sigh left him as he flopped down on his bed, not especially interested in listening to the Dursleys' happy murmurs from the other side of the door. Reaching into his pocket he drew out the bread and sausage, devouring it rapidly to satisfy the rumbling in his stomach. Once done he curled around his pillow and stared at the ceiling. Why did his relatives treat him like dirt? He knew this was not normal, he'd seen how other families interacted and of course he'd read about it too. Harry was an avid reader and would sometimes sneak into his cousin's second bedroom and snitch some of is books. The last one's he'd taken had been The Lord of the Rings trilogy which he'd nearly devoured as well. His stomach twisted. He'd have given anything to have been Frodo, even if it meant bearing the burden of the ring as long as he could have had a friend like Sam. His stomach twisted; he wished that magic really did exist, that he was magic and that someone would one day come and take him away from his so called 'family'. Unable to fight the urge any longer he allowed his eyes to close; resisting sleep was futile really and he was so very tired...

(Dream)

Harry knew where he was, if not specifically, then at least in the general sense. He'd read about dungeons before and this was undoubtedly one. This particular cell was not very large, constructed of dark, rough stone that tore at Harry's hand when he placed it against the wall to steady himself. There was only one door and no windows and whatever light the square hole at near the top of the door may have provided was hindered by another piece of wood slid over it. Nevertheless, Harry discovered that he did not need light, the room seemed to be alight with an inner glow.

It was with the assistance of this glow that showed him he was not the only one who currently occupied this depressing place. A black bundle of rags and hair lay curled up in the corner, arousing Harry's curiosity and concern. Carefully, so as not to startle whoever it was, the green-eyed boy crept over and knelt beside the dark mass. Now closer he was able to elaborate on his earlier observations. The black clothing the man, as he was certain for some reason that it was a man, were little more than rags, covering essential areas and perhaps providing some marginal protection against the cold flagstone beneath them. Where the clothing did not cover, deathly white skin was exposed, riddled with scars old and new, bruises and things Harry could not even begin to comprehend. He chose to ignore this for now, barring later examination, and concentrated on the face. Long, oily, and absolutely filthy (and the boy suspected, infested with vermin) black hair nearly hid the entire face so Harry decided to reach up and brush it aside. This action was halted when the seeming swollen eyes flew open and Harry found himself frozen in gaze of onyx orbs.

End of Chapter 2

A/N: Not much to say about this one really except I think you all now know what became of our precious Severus. What exactly while this meeting bring? Find out in the next chapter!