I will be updating weekly on Thursday at 8:00 P.M. Italics are thoughts. I will gradually be increasing the chapter length: this one is 1k, next is 1k, next is 1.5k, up until each chapter is 5-7k long. This is my first story though, so any thoughts or feedback would be greatly appreciated.

Harry Potter woke up early, sweating and panting. In his dream, he had been walking a brick path lined with trees, while monsters lurked, sneering in the shadows. What metaphorical meaning the dream contained, Harry didn't know, but he knew that he wasn't normal.

He had read books in school, and interacted with normal children, and those children didn't have to cook and do chores. They had a normal, happy life. They loved other people, and most importantly, they had people who cared about them.

Harry was alone, though. Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley couldn't care less about him: he was a tool to them, someone to cook, clean, garden, and stay out of sight. Like some sort of servant, not a child.

Even thinking about them made Harry clench his fists in anger. In many ways, that was the only thing that he lacked for: love.

And he wasn't about to give it out, either. Why should he? Love was built upon care and affection, and Harry had received none of these things, leaving him a dried out husk emotionally.

Did he depend on the Dursleys? For survival, but nothing else. That was definitely not a "normal" relationship, and Harry was not a "normal" kid. There was an explanation for this, but Harry didn't know it: for him life was bitter, and numb: he rarely felt emotions anymore; instead, it was him against the world.

No friends, no allies, nobody to depend upon. That was how it had been since he was a baby, and he had felt nothing but indifference since then: the world didn't care about him, so why should he care about it?

This indifference to the world carried over to love, and to "normality." Was this what his subconscious was trying to tell him through his dream?

Harry's reverie was disturbed by Petunia calling, "Wake up, boy! It's time to make breakfast!" Harry groaned, but got out of bed, fumbled for the door, and fell out of the cupboard, scrambling for his glasses.

He finally found them, and put them on, achieving a grainy sense of vision that was not helped by the duct tape and cracks on the glasses.

Harry made his way to the kitchen, though. He cracked 10 eggs, and then transferred them to a pan, trying to work fast. Vernon would be up soon. He moved the yolk around: with the other hand, he put toast into the toaster. He turned around, and layered bacon into a pan and put it into the oven.

He checked the clock. 7:32. He mentally set a timer for 10 minutes. Eventually, the eggs were done, the toast buttered and the bacon out just in time for Vernon to sit down and demand his breakfast.

This demand previously would have caused Harry to grit his teeth and almost lose control. Now though, he was used to this treatment, and satisfied himself with a promise. One day, I'll show them.

Harry poured 2 cups of coffee and 1 cup of orange juice and distributed the drinks while the food cooled down. However, Dudley stuck his foot out and tripped him, sending orange juice all over Petunia's prize carpet.

Harry lay there, head ringing, while Petunia shrieked about her beautiful carpet. Vernon filled up with purple gas, and Harry mentally braced himself for more abuse. He tucked his feet in, presenting a smaller target to hit.

"Boy!" Vernon yelled. Oh shit, Harry thought.

"Go get the mail!" Vernon deflated, and Harry sighed.

Dodged that bullet, he thought. He walked to the front door, and scanned the letters. Grunnings, flower competition, taxes, gaming, grunnings, and an unexpected letter that read: From Hogwarts, To Harry Potter.

Harry's heart pounded. This couldn't possibly be real. Who would be writing to him? There's no way the Dursleys are going to allow me to see this. They've worked hard to make sure no one knows who I am.

Harry wasn't allowed to have any friends or outside contact so that no one would look too hard at the Dursleys' treatment of him and he was kept to his servant role.

"Where are my letters?!" Vernon roared. Harry jumped, startled, and then slipped the letter into his pants. He gave the letters to Vernon, keeping his letter safe.

"Were there any other letters?" Vernon asked.

"No." Harry lied smoothly. If there was one skill he had learned in his life so far, it was lying. Lying was supposed to be bad, but Harry couldn't bring himself to care. Besides, it was a survival technique.

After breakfast, Vernon dismissed Harry (it was Saturday), and Harry went back to his cupboard, happy to have privacy to read his letter in peace. He broke the red seal eagerly and read the letter. The letter read:

Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at the Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31st.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Harry ignored the rest of the letter. He would deal with the rest later.

He heard a ringing in his ears as he took off his glasses. The world blurred.

This was-all this time-a reason-wizardry-magic-finally-joy-tears running down his face-was this real?!-a whole world-was there anyone like him?

Harry had long ago given up on life, but now…

No matter what this was like, Harry vowed, he would find an equal.

Someone who cared about him, challenged him, supported him, and knew him.

His mind registered the information, but needed help processing, and so Harry fumbled for his most prized possession: the one thing he owned and loved most in the world.

His mind flashed back to when he found it: he had been cleaning the attic when he uncovered a pair of headphones, a cassette player, and a cassette tape that had 'Lily's Mix Of Awesome!' written on it in black sharpie.

He had taken it back to his cupboard, and started listening. Harry didn't know who Lily was, but whoever they were, their cassette tape had helped him survive the past 3 years.

Their cassette tape had provided one of the few pleasures in his life: music. Harry put the headphones on, pressed play, and lost himself in guitar riffs and Green Day.

He pretended to play guitar while stamping on the floor of his cupboard, mouthing:

I walk a lonely road

The only one that I have ever known

Don't know where it goes

But it's home to me and I walk alone

I walk this empty street

On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams

Where the city sleeps

And I'm the only one and I walk alone

I walk alone

I walk alone

I walk alone

I walk a

My shadow's the only one that walks beside me

My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating

Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me

'Til then I walk alone

Ah-ah, ah-ah, ah-ah, aaah-ah

Ah-ah, ah-ah, ah-ah

I'm walking down the line

That divides me somewhere in my mind

On the borderline

Of the edge and where I walk alone

How true those lyrics were to his life! All his life he had been alone, but now-now he would be able to find an equal. He continued celebrating in muted joy.