Hey guys! Thank you so much for all the wonderful things I heard about my pervious chapter. So a few things I quickly would love to discuss is that in my story it will not gloss over the abuse that has happened to Harry. I strongly believe there was more that happened to Harry then J.K. would care to discuss and I completely understand why because it is a child's book. But in this story I strongly want to get in depth of our characters because if we want to understand the adults they become we have to understand the children they are. Even though Harry is quite young he still has violent thoughts due to everything that has happened to him which is very understandable! Anyways I hope you like this chapter and I hope to hear back more of your thoughts . Also to let you all know I hope to update this story at least once a week! Okay I'm done! Enjoy the story! Remember I own nothing! This is all J.K. Rowlling!

The sound of the hard wind could be heard from all over the house. The rain was pouring down and the wind was its merciless counterpart. Many people were locked tight in their homes sleeping, waiting for the dreadful storm to be over. But locked away, under the cupboard, on Number Four of Privat Drive, was a child. The only light seen in the child's cruel and makeshift room was his bright emerald eyes that were glowing with anger. Anger at the twisted hand life at dealt him. He was only a child. He was supposed to be worrying about when was the next time he could meet his lads at the park, not worrying about the next time he was going to get a sorry excuse for a meal. As he laid his head down on an old, flat pillow, little Harry Potter began to fantasize about the days who could look over old uncle Dursley's dead body. He hoped that he would be the one to bring an end to Vernon. That fat cunt deserved every twisted thought this little seven-year-old thought of. What a waste of space in this universe and how fulfilling it would be to make it to where good old uncle Vernon could never touch him again. As Harry began to drift off to the violent thoughts and the horrendous winds, he began to dream. Dream of a life where he was the god and all would bow to his will. And his will was to never be hurt ever again.

"Well in what universe was it ever been okay for Harry Potter to be in my line of vision?" As Harry turned he felt Dudley's fist connect to his fist with an alarming rate of speed. Harry fell to the floor and felt something warm and tangy coming from the inside of his mouth "Fuck, Blood." he thought to himself. Harry knew it was better to stay down, let the child who pretends to be an adult have his minute with his fluffed ego. He knew with his scrawny eleven-year-old body there was not much of a chance to take on a 180-pound man child that was Dudley Dursley. He laid in what was a fake child's cowering to play as if he was scared even though in his mind he already snapped Dudley's fat neck over 13 times. He closed his eyes and began to pray to whatever external power from up above that the hippo would get bored and leave before he forgot about his façade and smashed the child's face in for good. Dudley gave Harry a few more cheap kicks to the stomach for good measure before he was distracted by the smell of food being cooked in the kitchen and began to walk away. Harry shut his eyes even tighter as he wished for Dudley to be hit just once. "BLOODY HELL!" yelled Dudley. Harry quickly opened his eyes to see a book falling from being thrown off the shelf across the room landing as hard as it could on Dudley's head. A little voice in Harry's mind told him he did that but Harry knew better than to acknowledge the strange things he could do. He watched as Dudley muttered to himself about the fucking weird book and began to make his fat ass way to the kitchen. Harry counted to 100 and then picked himself up and made his way to the kitchen.

As Harry sat down on the broken chair at the table he saw a profound looking letter with his name written in cursive sitting on the pile of mail on the table. Rather than say anything he watched with calculating eyes hoping he could swipe it away before anyone got their disgusting greedy hands on it. A letter that carefully written had to be worth something and he would be dammed if they took it out of his sight. He watched as Aunt Petunia's back was turned and both her cunt of a husband and son who were so consumed with their food. He slowly moved his left hand near the pile and began to make his way to the letter. He was right about to swipe it off the table when Uncle Vernon looked up and bellowed "Potter what the hell do you think you are doing?" "Fuck." Was the only thought going through Harry's mind. Vernon began to stand and made his way to Harry. Swiftly Vernon grabbed Harry by the ear and pulled him out of the chair. With a conniving grin, Vernon threw the child to the ground and began to remove his belt. Harry braced himself for what was next as he felt the belt buckle swiftly hit his head. Over and over until his head began to bleed and his face was bruised was Vernon more than viciously cruel with the punishment. Dudley watched in delight while Petunia kept her back turned and dared not to look. As Vernon lashed him one last time he said his cliché line "This is for your own good, this is what you deserve." As Harry laid there, his only thought was how the only thing he deserved was death.