Chapter 2

The first chapter was shorter than I thought. I'm going to take my time on the rest of the story and try to pump out about 5-8k words per chapter. I am still in high school, so expect sporadic updates, but I'm going to try to get one out a week.

The day was long and difficult. When he arrived, Harry immediately had a shovel thrust into his hands. They took infrequent breaks throughout the day, and Harry was sore, tired, and hungry. His hands were rubbed raw from the shovel and his back was aching from stooping to dig up the dirt.

There was a group of people already working when he arrived. They were a sorry looking bunch, with threadbare pants and no shirts, sunburnt backs lined with scars. Harry knew them to be slaves of the other townsfolk, and once he took off his shirt and got to work, he fit right in.

While he was only 12 (the youngest 'worker' present) he still had some amount of muscle on him from his day to day labour. Everyone around Harry looked eternally tired and fragile, like their next whipping would be their last. Not Harry. He liked to think he was resilient. That nothing anyone said or did to him could affect him. He knew this was a dangerous thought to have for a slave, but he didn't want to admit defeat.

Harry didn't want to think that this would be his whole reality. The thought that he would be forced to repeat this nightmare over and over was his only fear. But he knew that there was nothing else for him outside of this town, and he had no skills that would help him blend in if he ran away.

Harry would never run away of course. He heard the stories of slaves who tried to run. Dragged back and branded, on the face. That was perhaps the only thing that scared him more than spending his whole life with the Dursley's. Besides, his life could be worse.

When the farmers let him go, it was already becoming dusk. He had managed to scrounge up 2 apples during his lunch break, and that was more than enough for him to get through the day. Even though he didn't have breakfast, he could have gone the whole day without food if needed. But since the work was done, he could go get something else.

Harry knew there was a peach Grove in the forest if he was willing to make a detour. The Dursley's would surely punish him when he got back (he hadn't done any of his chores, after all), so he wasn't going to pass up free peaches.

Harry hurried through the trees between him and his succulent peaches. He loved the things, and their delicio- "Do it again!" his thoughts were interrupted by a shout ahead of him. Reflexively, Harry ducked behind a tree and listened. He couldn't believe how close he had gotten without them noticing him. What were these children doing so far out into the forest?

"Nah, I'm feeling pretty tired. It really takes a lot out of you unless you practice every day. I don't get to do it much because I have to be careful who sees. Thanks for being so cool about it. I had a suspicion that you wanted to do magic, but-" Harry tuned their next words out.

Magic! Their doing magic?! Don't they know that's dangerous? He peeked around the tree to get a look at them. The younger one looked about his age, and had a big smile on his face. He had straight brown hair and a million freckles. The older girl had to be at least 15 years old, and was leaning against a tree with a superior smile on her face.

"Well yeah, I know that's not true!" the boy said indignantly. "Even my parents say that Magic's 'too dangerous' and that it 'weakens your soul', whatever that means. But I know their lying. Why would you live here if you want to become a Chantress*? Why not some place like Hogsmead?"

The girl frowned at the boys remarks about magic. "My mother is terrible at magic, and after my father died, we've been pretty broke. It's hard to live in a place with magic if you can't use it. No one wants to hire a lady with no magic when a man can just say some words or wave their wand and it gets done instantly." The girl looked sour as she said this, but regained her smirk at her next statement.

"We're going to France if I can get good enough at Chanting. I wanted to be a Potions Mistress," Here she looked longing. "But they don't sell ingredients here, so I can't practice. Beauxbatons might accept me if I get good enough at chanting though." The boy looked confused.

"Why don't you just go to Hogwarts? Everything I've heard about it says that it's the best, and it's way closer." The girl scowled. "Hogwarts is the worst. They're accepting more and more 'Naturals'* every year instead of Chanters. And you need to enroll at when you're 13 or they won't let you in, no matter how good you are."

Harry was so enthralled by the stuff he was learning, he didn't even notice how dark it was getting. This was the most he'd ever heard about magic (discounting how evil it is). He always wondered how easy life would be if he had magic, and from the sounds of it, extremely easy.

"—ease! I just want to see one more before I have to go home." The kid pleaded to the smug looking girl. She clearly liked the kids attention, but she acted reluctant to oblige him. "Ugh, fine. But I'll only show you another if you let me ride your father's horse this Sunday." The boy nodded quickly and looked expectant. He backed up a few steps.

Harry watched as the girl put her hands together and murmured under her breath for about 15 seconds. At last, she pulled her hands apart and held them palm up. Both boys' eyes widened as orange ice slowly rose from her hands and joined together to create an arch. Harry sucked in his breath as the boy 'awed' at her demonstration. The girl, however, looked annoyed and sheepish.

"Wow, that's so cool! Why's it orange?" When she looked up at him, the ice melted into nothing. "It wasn't supposed to be. It's probably because…" Harry quickly ducked back behind his tree when she trailed off. She had turned her head in his direction, and she probably saw him.

"Hey! You! Come over here!" Harry immediately bolted. He didn't know what would happen if he stayed behind. Would they be mad? Threaten him to keep his silence? He didn't look back as he ran.

Harry was distracted, but it seemed he would not get the chance to dwell on his thoughts. As he climbed the fence to get into the Dursley's yard, a hand reached out of the dark and pulled him to the ground.

"Where have you been?!" Vernon hissed through clenched teeth. Harry suddenly realized how late it was. It was never a good thing when he got punished late at night. He would be expected to make no noise the whole time, and Vernon preferred to hear his screams.

He said nothing, knowing that no excuse would help him with what would come next. Harry cowered as he waited for his uncle to choose his punishment. Would it be the belt, or the whip? Or maybe he would just starve him? He was interrupted from his thoughts by a searing pain in his back.

Unprepared for the pain, he let out one of the loudest screams of his life. He had felt pain before, but this was the worst thing he had ever experienced. He writhed on the ground as the pressure increased and bit down on his tongue. Finally, the pain let up and he rolled onto his side, gasping. His uncle was holding a red fire poker.

"you listen to me, Freak!" He kicked the still squirming 12 year old. "You will do what you are told! I will not have you lounge around. You are to be of use. I do not want to see you, I do not want to hear you." At the end of his rant, Vernon placed his foot on the gasping Harry and pinned his shoulder to the ground.

The pain was less this time, but only because he was expecting it. It still made him cry out though. After a few seconds, in which Harry endured agonizing pain, his uncle stepped back and walked into the house, leaving Harry to pick himself up off the ground and shamble towards his shack.

The shack was not long enough to lie down in unless he curled into a ball on his side. This was how Harry spent most of his nights, which helped to ease the pain on his back. He was forced to lay in a nest of his clothing to avoid the cold ground.

Harry didn't normally cry, but he would make an exception for today. He had been given a small taste of the world, of Magic, only to be reminded cruelly of his station in life. He had a fleeting hope for a minute that he would have maybe, just maybe, been able to become something else.

But you're not a wizard! He reminded himself harshly, scolding himself for thinking he could be anything other than a slave boy. You exist to do whatever you are told, nothing more. There is no place for someone like you.

Harry cried himself to sleep that night, unaware of the small drizzle that seemed localized on his shack.

A Chantress is a female Chanter, someone who is born with no inherent ability to do magic (will be explained in greater detail as Harry learns about it). A Natural is someone who is born with the ability to access magic directly, which allows them to cast spells easier and faster then other magic users. I hope you guys enjoyed the second chapter, it wasn't as long as I'd like it to be. Read and review please?