A/N: forgot my disclaimer last time so here it is… Ahem.

Harry Potter belongs to me and me alone—oh. Umm, right. Err, Not mine? shrugs

Hmm. Read on.

Chapter 2

The streets were a hard place to live, to grow up, or rather—to survive on. One has to be hard, cold, and strong. The weak did not survive; they always died out from starvation, disease, and despair. There were some who were lucky enough to be caught, they were the ones who found someone to care for them, a new family, one to call their own. There were also some who found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time. These unfortunate souls were beaten, raped, and if the tormenter is merciful, they were killed.

Not just anyone could survive in this life, you had to have character; there were very few who lasted, no one ever looked into the future because it was so bleak, life expectancy was very low most died before their twentieth year, twenty-five if you were lucky. The ones who did last were the strongest, the smartest, the most cunning, the stealthiest, and the most ruthless. One had to be prepared at all times there were always fights breaking out, at the end of every day you knew that someone you had known had died that's how it was. Most of the fights were for pointless, personal reasons, but some were for power, some for territory, or food or shelter. Being a street rat was a hard life, one that, unfortunately many fell into.

Raven was the type of kid who could survive, he had been with Davey for a while now, and he was hardened to his way of life, no longer a naïve little child, not that he ever really was in the first place, but he had changed for the better.

Surviving meant sticking together. Everyone was in a gang; there was no surviving if you weren't, though you had to be useful to be kept around. Davey's group was tight knit, it had been small when Raven had first been found, only three people (four with Raven), but they had grown. Now, more than three years later, they were nine (five boys, and four girls). It was a good number for the life they led, not too many to get caught, by the bobbies, and they were easy enough to support if everyone did their jobs, and they were big enough to defend their territory and home from other gangs. Basic trust was essential in these groups, because in a fight you had to trust that someone was going to be covering your back for you. There may never be personal trust between members but there was always primal trust. A trust that three members of the group were grateful for one day, three and a half years after Davey found Raven.

Raven, Adam and Davey had been on their back to the Hollow (where they lived) when they had been jumped. Insults were traded, jabs were made, and soon enough there was a full out brawl. Three against five, though the other gang had caught the three best fighters in the group together. Davey, Adam, and Raven were usually given a wide berth with the other gangs when they were together. The only ones who would attack them openly and together were either, very stupid, or brave or new, or all three. A combination that just screamed ' I'm inexperienced, kill me now'.

Davey was fiercely protective of his little 'brother', so it wasn't very often that anyone saw the young boy that Davey had 'taken under his wing' out in a fight. He had orders to stay out of the way as much as possible. Davey had had his first kill when he was only six years old. It was his hope that he could save Raven from having to take a life for as long as he possibly could, but, what was going to happen was inevitable, and it appeared it had come far sooner than Davey would have liked.

The fight had been raging for at least fifteen minutes and the odds were now even, one was down, bleeding heavily from many different knife wounds, he had no chance; the other's body was already turning cold. Adam and Davey would each be adding a notch to their daggers.

Raven was just wiping the blood off his face from a cut on his temple when he saw it. The leader of the other gang was picking himself off the ground from where he had fallen from a hard blow to the back. Davey was fighting the other two alongside Adam, unaware of the danger now behind him. The leader had been momentarily forgotten in the heat of the moment. He unsheathed a dagger that was attached to his boot, and stalked up behind Davey; he lifted the knife and slashed down.

There was a thud, and then silence, Adam had knifed the boy he had been fighting, and so he was down. There were only four people still standing, three had varying emotions running rampart in their minds. The last, terrified, bolted.

Seven-year old Raven had killed another human being.

Raven had been thinking quickly when the leader had gotten back to his feet, he had just hit his opponent on the temple with the hilt of his dagger, knocking him unconscious, so the seven-year old was left without opposition, gearing up to re-enter the fight in the best place when he took notice of the other boy. He was about fourteen or fifteen, he was tall and lanky, though he had muscled arms, dirty and matted short-cropped blonde hair, with clouded grey eyes. He had a flat face with a pointed nose, and thin lips. His skin would have been olive had it not been so dirty, and at the moment he was advancing on Davey's back, currently unnoticed by his target. Re-gripping his dagger, and picking up a pipe that lay on the floor of the alley, Raven moved swiftly toward the blonde. He loosed the pipe he was holding just as the boy was slashing downwards, it sailed through the air, across the boy's body, connecting with his knife hand, making him lose his grip on the blade, dropping it to the ground. Not a second later the same boy had Raven's blade slice open his back, puncturing his kidney. He was dead, though he hadn't stopped breathing yet.

The three boys stood there motionless in the silence.

Shock.

That was the feeling coursing through the little boys mind.

Sorrow.

Was pulling at Davey's Heart for one so young.

Resignation.

In the marrow of Adam's bones, knowing that, for the boy, it had to happen sooner or later, his last chance at total salvation. Gone.

Guilt.

Being the cause of the end of another's life.

Pride.

Coursing through his veins, despite the anguish he felt, there was pride for his 'brother', and not a small amount of gratefulness for saving his life.

A small, almost stifled sob broke the spell. The shock had worn off for the youngster. All he felt was the blood on his hands, still warm. He fell to his knees, too weak to stay on his feet any longer. He couldn't hold in the sobs, he broke down. He was unaware of his surroundings, focusing only on what he had just done, and the blade still in his hand.

He felt a cool hand pry his own off his dirtied dagger while his brother's arms lifted him from the ground, cradling him into his chest.

He was tired; it had been a long, tiring, emotional day. He let sleep take him.

His last thought before totally giving in to his exhausted mind's pleas for rest was that he would need to mar the flawless surface of the hilt of his dagger, he needed to add his first notch.

He fell to the darkness, exhausted from the tears he'd wept over the body of the boy he'd killed.

A/N: How was that for a second chapter? I plan on covering his years in mostly flashbacks, or him simply remembering. I don't feel the need to go over every year of his life. This story will not be all that long; I still have Hogwarts years, though I'm making it AU for the sixth book because I like Snape.

Don't worry. I plan on explaining the thing with the notches, though if anyone would like to guess where that ideas came from it'd be interesting to see who could get it right.

Reviewer Response:

Munsje: Thanks for the tips, I went back over the first chapter and edited out some of the things you mentioned, I hope I did better on this one, but sometimes I just can't think of a better word (dagger). You have to remember that Harry was nearly four when he was abandoned, so that factors into the whole chores thing, besides I mainly pictured him weeding, or scrubbing the floor, etc.

Aussie-Girl3: As per request Harry will be going to school at age 11, though I don't know yet if he will be Harry Potter. I think he will be.

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