Prologue.

Disclaimer: All of the characters and settings in this story belong to J. K. Rowling.

"How can the bird that is born for joy sit in a cage and sing" - William Blake.

He jolted to awareness with a suddenness that set his heart pounding and his breath quickening. He could not recall the events that had led up to him being there, or where exactly 'there was'. He realised with a lurch of his stomach that he couldn't see. He tried to fumble for his glasses, but could not get his body to cooperate. Where his hands had once been, there were now only feathers and every time he managed to flex them, they beat against something hard and unyielding. The air tasted stale and his mouth felt dry. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had anything to eat or drink, and the little energy he had was being expended quickly as his heart rate and breathing accelerated, and panic started to set in. He tried to calm down and think clearly. Maybe if he closed his eyes and held his breath he'd find himself somewhere else, and realise that it had been a dream all along.

Suddenly a slight breeze caressed his face, and as he opened his eyes he spotted a pinprick of light far above. He couldn't tell whether it had just appeared, or had it been there all along? For all he knew it could have been as unreachable as Mars, but with a new surge of desperation he realised that he must try to get to it. He knew instinctually that something terrible would happen if he didn't succeed. Dread started to pool in his stomach, making his already weak body feel as heavy as led. He thought for one horrible moment that he wouldn't be able to move, but he urged himself on determinedly and was amazed to feel himself gradually ascending. He found himself wondering once again how he'd got to wherever he was, and why his body had changed so dramatically. He pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind however, vowing to think about them some more once he was finally out of the small space he was confined to. He was growing tired, but he saw all at once that he was much nearer the top than he'd initially thought. He could see daylight, taste the fresh clean air on his tongue and the freedom that came with it. He was almost there; he was going to get out! He...

A hand, cold and clammy, clamped tightly over his beak. Another hand, as firm and cold as the first secured the rest of his body. He felt like the snitch he so often held in his hand at the end of a game of quidditch; he fluttered his wings frantically but had no hope of release. The roles were reversed; where once he was the catcher, now he was the captured. He kept trying to escape to no avail, before suddenly finding himself flung forcefully back down into the small dark space. He was falling, and there was nothing he could do to slow his descent. Just before he hit the ground, he heard a voice (which sounded much too like his uncle Vernon for comfort) calling down to him.

"You're not coming out, ever. Get over it!"

Harry Potter woke with a start, his body soaked with sweat and his breaths coming in short gasps. Most people would feel relief upon realising that what they'd just experienced (however horrible) was only a nightmare, but Harry somehow couldn't bring himself to care very much. After all, he was just as trapped in reality, with little hope of ever escaping. He'd never felt so defeated in his life; until now he'd tried his best to remain hopeful that somebody would come to rescue him but it seemed his relatives had finally succeeded in stamping out his optimism. Where only 3 months ago he'd felt freer than ever before, he now felt trapped (both in body and spirit). When his punishment began, he was filled with righteous anger, for he knew that as usual he'd done nothing to warrant it. But as time went on, his aunt and uncle's anger did not wain, seeming in stead to reignite every time they saw him. His rations gradually decreased in size, and he shared the little food he got twice a day with his snowy owl, Hedwig. Almost 2 months of being locked in her cage with little nutrients and exercise was starting to take a toll on her well-being. Her feathers were beginning to fall out and her eyes (once bright and intelligent) had dulled beyond all recognition. Harry now gave her the majority of his food (however unsatisfactory), fearing that if help didn't come soon, he would lose her. She'd been his constant companion since he re-entered the wizarding world just over a year ago, and if she left him he didn't know what he would do. As time went on, and the chances of someone actually coming to rescue him grew ever slimmer, he found it more and more difficult to hold onto his initial indignance. Rage turned slowly to depression, and after almost a month of solitude he was beginning to lose all hope. Apathy was setting in.

Harry sat up slowly, feeling his limbs shake slightly with fatigue and his stomach naw with hunger. Grabbing his badly mended glasses from the rickety old bedside table, he pressed them onto his face and blinked a couple of times. When at last all traces of sleep had left him, he got unsteadily to his feet and gazed sadly at the calendar pinned above his bed. He already knew what day it was, after all he'd been counting down the days ever since he'd returned to Privet Drive in mid-June. He scanned the dates frantically regardless, hoping for once that he'd somehow miss-counted. However, just as he'd feared, this was not the case. It was the first of September 1992, the day he was supposed to return to Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry. For the first time he noticed the daylight streaming in through the bars on his small window, and his heart sank further still. Why had he not been woken by his alarm? He glanced fearfully at the cracked face of the clock he'd salvaged from Dudley's second bedroom which was now his own, and with ever-increasing panic he noticed that the hands weren't moving. He looked at his watch and felt all the colour drain from his face. It was 11:15AM, and the train had left without him. Any remaining hope of rescue dissipated, leaving him feeling hollow and empty.

Dobby had succeeded in his task. Harry wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts.

A/N: This story is canon compliant until the beginning of second year, at which point it will deviate becoming AU. It will explore the changes brought about by the events outlined in the summery, and ultimately Harry's path to freeing himself from the Dursleys (both physically and emotionally). Although this concept has been explored before, we've yet to find a story that has all of the elements that we're going to include so we decided to give writing a go.

This fanfiction is a collaboration with Truthweaver. It is only our second attempt at writing fanfiction. Feel free to review; constructive feedback is always welcome.

For those of you who have read our first story and are wondering when it will be updated, we apologise for the delay. We will end ever to get it complete by the end of this month.

This story will be updated a lot more regularly, and new chapters will be uploaded each week on Wednesday. We hope you've enjoyed the prologue.