Disclaimer - I don't own Harry Potter. Please let me know what you think.

Summary - How does an abused and extremely angry young wizard react when everything he knew is a lie? Left on the Dursleys' doorstep as a child, Harry lived in the knowledge he was unwanted, but he never expected the revelations he received when he was just 5. Now alone and escaping to London, it's time for him to take charge of his life.

Xxxx

Five-year-old Harry Potter was not a normal boy, he knew it and while he wished he was in some ways, in many others, he knew nothing he did would ever delight the Dursleys so he had soon come to like how different he was. Everyone in the street, and indeed the whole of Little Whinging knew about it. While the Dursleys hadn't entirely hidden the lies they'd told the rest of the stupid town, Harry had given up on trying to make everyone see the Dursleys were lying about him. He was different from the Dursleys, but he had come to like how different he was compared to everybody else.

Vernon Dursley was a large man who was quite fat and liked to see himself as a kind of Superman, like the comic character, but personally, the image of the large man with the receding dark, neatly combed hair and the thick moustache which he thought made him look wise and grand but made him resemble a flipper-less walrus even more.

Petunia Dursley was not fat; like Harry, she was thin, but she was as thin as a rake, and it was quite sickly, and yet she was the only member of the household who kept up with a diet plan. Despite what she liked to think about herself, Petunia Dursley believed she was a beautiful woman, but she used more makeup over her horse-like face than what makeup artists or salon workers would consider appropriate. She had a giraffe-like neck, which allowed her to eavesdrop over fences more effectively.

Harry had always believed privately that his cousin Dudley was a pig in a wig. The cousins were the same age, give or take a few months not that Harry was really bothered since he had learnt the hard way the Dursleys would never acknowledge his age and he would never have even known how old he was unless he had snuck in a look at his birth certificate, but the two boys couldn't be more different. Dudley was as blond as his mother, and yet he was becoming as rapidly obese as his father. In fact, Harry had no doubt one day Dudley would find himself suffering from many health problems since he ate more food than what the doctors believed to be wise, and Dudley regularly threatened his parents that he was going to be quite large one day.

Harry on the other hand was nothing like the Dursleys. For one thing, he was quite small and thin although he wasn't sure if that was down to the way they fed him, and kept him locked up in a cupboard under the stairs, he was quick on his feet. His clothes were his cousins' castoffs and they were larger than him, and he looked even trampish because of them. He had a thin face topped by a mop of untidy black hair which was a source of a lot of abuse from his so-called uncle, who kept barking at Harry to comb his hair, which was a futile endeavour at the best of times, so really he rarely bothered. By far, Harry's eyes were sparkling emeralds that gleamed like a cat's eyes, but by far his favourite feature about himself was the lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead.

He wasn't sure why the scar was his favourite feature, he supposed it was that it was different from everyone else. He had read enough books over the last few years to know full well that people who were different were looked down upon, although truthfully there was nothing wrong with being different from anybody else.

And Harry believed it.

Harry had long since hated the way the Dursleys condemned anyone for being different.

He hated the way they beat him just because he was different from them.

But what he hated the most was their hatred for him which seemed so pointless. He had lived with the Dursleys for five bloody miserable years, and he had long since stopped trying to earn any kind of affection. Like most children, Harry yearned for love and affection but he had never received it. The only thing he had received from the Dursleys was a beating.

He was no longer bothered about his appearance; while it stood out, he had come to prefer his thin face and black hair to Dudley's piggy face and blond hair, and watery blue eyes, to say nothing of the pinched expression on Petunia's face, or that stupid moustache on Vernon's mug. And truthfully, while they insulted his scar and his eyes, he had come to take the insults with pride as an act of defiance.

But that still didn't answer the question of how he had gotten it, nor who had dropped him off on the Dursley's doorstep. From what he had learnt over the years, here and there since the Dursleys had gone out of their way to keep things hidden from him, and to stop him from learning too much about his own past, the logic escaping him each time, he had been found on the doorstep of their house, and from what he'd learnt since that should never have happened.

No childcare service would just leave a baby on a doorstep in November, but somebody had, but he had no leads on who it was who'd done it, and Harry had given up hope of discovering the truth even though he was certain the Dursleys knew a lot more than they were letting on. He had caught the looks of fear whenever something strange happened around him, and more than once he had eavesdropped on the Dursleys, who angrily whispered about him doing 'that.' But they were never clear on what that was, although he gathered they were referring to the strange things that happened around him.

It all began when he was younger, and he had learnt it always happened whenever he was angry or scared. He was able to turn a teacher's wig blue, he had thrown his cousin away from him and he had also frozen a gang of bullies in their tracks on the playground at school. It didn't take a genius to work out he was somehow behind it, what with the way the Dursleys reacted when they'd heard the news.

After a while, Harry had written a diary to document each event. The diary had the details of what happened, what he was doing, where he was, and what he was feeling. It didn't take long for him to discover he was always angry or scared and so he went about mastering his strange powers with his emotions. And over the years, Harry realised there seemed to be no limit to what he could do. He wished for things to move, and they did, he wanted things to transform, and they did once he'd visualised the change. If he wanted to go unnoticed, he merely had to think it, and he became almost invisible and unnoticed by everyone. Over the years, he had gathered a collection of things he wished to keep, and he had wished the Dursleys never saw them whenever they opened the door to the cupboard under the stairs, and his relatives' eyes just….slid over them. While the Dursleys did still starve him, ever since he had begun stealing food from the neighbours he had long since lost his desire to be law-abiding. He had discovered a love for larceny.

Movies were also a source of great inspiration, particularly Star Wars; while he found the Force's abilities to be limited and rather mundane, he had worked out ways of duplicating those abilities, such as running aided and performing backflips, although that one had been a nightmare. But there were some abilities Harry loved.

Xxxx

Harry didn't even see the blow coming for his face until he had been knocked to the ground, his face stinging while his head was ringing. He was too winded to cry out as he landed on the ground, but he choked when he felt the meaty fist grab the back of his neck, making him gasp in pain and roughly haul him off of the ground before he was thrown back to the ground again.

"You little freak!" Vernon Dursley growled in his ear, making the little five-year-old flinch. "You're going to pay for ruining our dinner, and my sister's visit no less!"

Harry stayed quiet, knowing the best thing to do was be submissive even if he wanted nothing more than to set the Dursleys and their perfect home alight with his power.

"Aaahh," he cried out, clutching his head in pain after his 'uncle' punched him in the head again. He grunted as he hit the ground again, his head spinning from the blow while he tried to make sense of what had happened. He had become an expert in avoiding Dudley, keeping a few steps ahead and a few back; Dudley was a moron, and he always relied on the usual tactics to get him (Harry) into trouble, but tonight he had just been too busy carrying the heavy plates when Dudley tripped him up.

"Bad breeding, that, Vernon," Marge broke through Harry's thoughts, her voice slurred. "Now, I don't mean to upset you about your family, Petunia, but you can't deny your sister was a bad sort, and she clearly passed it on to her runt of a brat."

Harry's anger began to grow - while he didn't really care about his parents despite holding onto the idea, the hope they had loved him, he wasn't going to take it anymore. Ever since he had begun exploring his powers, Harry had become increasingly aware he was better than the Dursleys and he wanted nothing to do with them. So why bother staying? Why not leave?

He could be doing other things. He could be exploring the world, like the explorers described in the books he'd read in the library. He could be discovering new talents, and new interests, but instead, he was stuck here in this dump. His anger had been growing ever since Marge turned up, with her horrible remarks, the way they got worse as her tongue loosened as she drank, and now it was bubbling into a molten white rage.

A voice identical to Emperor Palpatine from Return of the Jedi told him to strike now, to strike down the Dursleys with all of his hatred. Compelled as he was by that rage, Harry found it hard to resist.

He called upon all of his rage, all of his hatred as he recalled every single horrible moment he had been here - the beatings, the exorcism, and the way the neighbours looked down on him, and lastly the insults he had taken and the belief he was better than the Dursleys were and their stupid friends. Slowly he stood up.

Aunt Petunia was the first to realise something was terribly wrong. She felt a static feeling in the air like the air was charged with electricity and then she heard something odd from above. She looked up, and to her horror, she saw a massive crack spreading along the ceiling.

Instinctively she looked at the boy, who had risen to his feet, and she gasped involuntarily in horror. Harry's face was dark with fury, his messy hair was blowing as if he were standing in the middle of a strong breeze. The bruises on his face only made the sudden darkness in his face that much worse, and the way he stood, the way his limbs were set and the feral jutting of his jaw scared her a great deal. It was like looking into the face of a madman.

But what scared Petunia the most was the way his freaky emerald-green eyes glowed. They glowed with an inner fire like there was a volcano underneath an icy lake, both hot and cold.

Petunia stilled, suddenly wishing she and her husband hadn't abused the boy. But they had honestly first thought he was not a freak. But he was.

The air around him crackled as he glared at them with demonic rage. Marge didn't notice. "If there's something wrong with the bitch, then there must be something wrong with the pup; after all, you said yourself, didn't you Vernon, that that Potter was a no-good bastard who was unemployed, right?"

"That's right, Marge, yes," Vernon replied, glancing at the boy for a moment, only to freeze in horror at the sight of the freaky brat.

"I'd shut up now if I were you, Marge Dursley," Harry spat in a cold voice that should never have come from a child's mouth.

"What did you just say, Boy?!" Marge yelled, stunned by the disrespect and then she saw the boy for herself.

Without a shred of hesitation, Harry flung his hand out and let loose with all his power.

The Dursleys didn't see it coming.

Brilliant purple-blue bolts of lightning sprang out of Harry's hand and struck the Dursleys dead on, showering all of them in a devastating blast of electrical energy. Marge and her relatives screamed as their bodies were bombarded with extremely high voltage which struck them with the force of a rushing Tube train.

All of that anger, that hatred poured out of Harry Potter's body. Petunia screamed, but she heard an animalistic, monstrous sound. She realised dimly it came from Harry, and it was the most monstrous sound she had ever heard.

Over the years, Petunia had always taken the letter her freaky sister and no good husband had written, about their brat not having any freaky powers, but she had always been confused whenever something weird happened around him.

"Y-you can't be doing this, they said you weren't like them!" She tried, anything to get him to stop.

It worked, much to her relief and the relief of her family, but Harry glared at them as he tried to come down from his high. "I can't be doing what? Who said what?" Harry demanded.

Petunia gasped out a breath, but she said nothing.

Harry's eyes glowed and he lifted his hand. Suddenly Petunias' hands flew to her throat as she felt her airway constricted. "Answer me."

Petunia coughed as her lungs became starved of air. Her vision was going black.

Vernon tried to regain control over the situation. "Boy-!" He began, only to be thrown across the room to the kitchen, where he struck the cupboards so hard he tore two of the doors off as he collapsed to the ground.

Harry didn't even notice. "Tell me what you meant," he snapped at his horrified aunt. The momentary focus on Petunia gave Marge the chance to recover her wits, while Dudley poked his head out, scared of drawing his cousin and his weird, freaky powers over to himself.

"Ripper!" Marge yelled while she wondered why her dog hadn't attacked earlier.

The dog barked and rushed towards Harry after taking in the scene in his limited brain.

"Marge, no-!" Petunia choked, the only one with any idea of what they were dealing with, called but it was too late.

Harry was momentarily stunned by the dog that he stopped choking Petunia, but that gave Ripper the chance to bite down on Harry's leg, but the dog didn't have a chance to really bite down hard enough when Harry waved his hand, blasting the dog with more lightning. Ripper whimpered and yowled in agony as his body was electrocuted.

Harry, remembering everything he had learnt from Star Wars about anger and hate, fuelled his lightning with all of the feelings he'd had about Ripper biting him, and chasing him….and it took a moment for him to see his lightning had subtly changed colour to a dark red, as Ripper was slowly electrocuted and his skin and fur began to burn. Finally, the dog stopped whimpering, his left back paw twitching. He was dead.

Harry stopped and lifted his head and spat at the Dursleys, who was looking at the dog's corpse with horror and fear. "Now, Aunt Petunia," Harry growled, a savage feral growl escaping his mouth, "tell me what you meant, or I'll electrocute you like I did Ripper."

Petunia's eyes darted fearfully, desperately seeking an exit.

Harry's emerald eyes flashed again, and he blasted the ceiling with lightning. Petunia and the other Dursleys yelped as the plaster showered their heads.

"Stop playing games with me," Harry snapped. "Tell me what I want to know."

Petunia licked her lips. "You….you are a wizard," she spat the word with pure hatred.

Harry gasped. "What?" He went silent as he thought about the things he had done in the past, but he had always thought he was some kind of alien, or mutant, but not a wizard.

"You heard," Petunia had gotten some of her arrogance back, and she quickly realised it was a big mistake when she suddenly began choking again as Harry got over his surprise.

"Keep your arrogance leashed, if you know what's good enough for you," Harry warned before he blasted Petunia with a small amount of lightning. Once her screaming ended, Harry lifted his hand and started choking Petunia again. "What do you know?"

"My freaky sister is a witch. I was there when that horrible Snape boy revealed he was a freak, a wizard," she choked when she felt her airways constrict more. "She was a witch and she went to that-that school! She went to a world hidden from the normal world, a world of magic," she said the word with absolute disgust and hatred.

"A school for magic?" Harry whispered, mulling it over in his mind. "Go on. Tell me about this school."

"I never saw it. But my sister spent the next seven years of her life there, from the age of 11 to 17; she kept coming back, waving that wand of hers, bringing back frogspawn, and those freaky books. My mother and father were proud when she got her letter, but I was the only one who saw her for what she really was a freak!" Petunia choked as she received another magical choke.

"Careful, Aunty," Harry mocked her. "Your arrogance is getting worse. Now tell me more. What happened to my parents?" He lifted his hand.

Petunia gasped as Harry choked her more to teach her her place. "There was a war; an evil freak who your parents fought against. His fellow freaks murdered my parents, and your mother offered me nothing but platitudes. And then you showed up when they abandoned you."

Harry was so stunned he dropped his aunt to the ground, choking. He backed away in shock as the implications washed over his mind.

No, he thought to himself desperately, they couldn't have done…

"I don't believe you. You're lying," Harry stuttered.

"I'm not," Petunia spat. "Your parents left you here with a letter, saying that you weren't a freak, that you didn't have any powers. But that meant nothing. Your mother destroyed my life. Oh, sweet little Lily, can do no wrong!" She mocked. "Oh so brilliant! So wonderful! Our parents were blind to her, but she was nothing more than a freak, and her fellow freaks killed them. They're still alive, your bitch of a mother and bastard father. They don't want you, they never did. Because you are not a freak!" Petunia's voice had been rising until she was shrieking, but Harry didn't cower, or flinch back.

Harry was silent as he let Petunia's jealous rant wash over him. He paid it only the slightest amount of attention as his mind spun as he considered the implications of what he'd heard.

He-he wasn't an orphan.

He still had parents.

But parents who had abandoned him and left him here to be abused. The Dursleys had lied to him for years, everything he had thought he had known…all of it was nothing but a hideous lie.

His parents were still alive.

"How does it feel, Boy, to know your parents hate you?!" Petunia spat with insane rage, but she didn't realise her words were rekindling Harry's own insane rage.

Harry lifted his gaze and he blasted the Dursleys with more magical lightning, making them scream louder in their agonies as they were all electrocuted.

Vernon was regaining consciousness after he had been thrown into the cupboards, and he watched as the freak blasted his family with more of that freak lightning of his. With a grunt, he slowly stood up and spotted the knife block on the countertop. Grabbing a large one, Vernon headed towards the freak, planning to end this once and for all. When the boy was finally dead, they would dispose of the body and then repair the house, and they'd go on with their normal lives, and it wasn't as if the freak's parents cared, was it?

But Harry sensed movement near him and he turned his head, and he spotted Vernon coming towards him with the massive knife that would easily split him open. With an angry hiss, Harry quickly attacked his bastard uncle with a thought, and Vernon shrieked in agony as both of his legs and his arms were twisted, the bones snapping with a ghastly sound while his feet and his hands were crushed slowly until they were turned to a bloody pulp.

Harry stopped and glared down at his twitching aunt, who quickly looked up at him and cowered away. "Do you have any proof?"

Xxxx

Harry stood watching as his terrified aunt opened the loft shakily even though he had no intention of hurting her unless she pushed him too much. After he had demanded to know if she had any proof, she had brought him up to the loft, saying that his parents had sent occasional letters. Harry had seen the Dursleys go out of their way to hide something in the loft, keeping him in the cupboard under the stairs.

He supposed it made some sense that the Dursleys would put the letters in the loft; they could be found by accident if they were left lying around, and if that happened then Harry would find out, especially since Dudley would gloat about it.

Harry's hand twitched as he tried really hard to cope with the things he had learnt in a small amount of time ever since he had realised there was truly no need for him to stay at the Dursleys, and he had prepared to just hurt them before he had left but what he had learnt in the meantime…

A part of him just wanted to deny everything that he had learnt but while he'd learnt the Dursleys were liars after the things he had heard the neighbours say, Harry had seen too much certainty on Petunia's face.

And if she was lying, well there would be one less family on the planet.

Finally Petunia came down the ladder steps, carrying a small plastic box filled with oddly coloured paper. Brusquely she handed it to Harry, who took it and he gently opened it and began to read. The paper felt odd, his fingers slipping across the surface of each sheet.

Dear Tuney,

I…remember how you told me never to contact you after mum and dad both died, and I have respected that wish since but I hope we can try to be friendly in the future.

We are all each other have left. And you might not believe that you know it's true.

I am sorry for how you became jealous of me as we grew up, and how I went to Hogwarts where I learnt magic, but I hope you can find it within yourself to look after my son, Harry. He is not a wizard; we checked after Voldemort's attack. You remember how I told you and mum and dad before their deaths, about the Dark Lord, who was trying to take over. He's been defeated, and the magical world believes that Charlus, Harry's twin brother, was the saviour. That's a lie, one I hate. I was the one who ensured my family survived, but at a great cost.

Harry's magic.

He is not a wizard, so he won't be going to Hogwarts.

If mum and dad were alive, he would be sent to them, but you are the only family I've got and I trust you to look after him. James and I are giving you money to look after him, so you'll be well off before his 18th birthday. I hope you tell him about us and that we wish we can still look after him, but without his magic, he will be jealous of us, of his twin brother, and I can't imagine coping with that. I know you hate me, Petunia, but please, look after him.

He's family and family comes first.

Take care, and best wishes with love,

Lily Potter.

Harry's temper had been flaring for the last few moments; he had been stamping it down so he wouldn't destroy any of the letters. But now he was incandescent with rage, and the house suffered for it. He didn't react once when the walls began splitting and cracking under the force of his rage. He sniffled but he angrily wiped his eyes as a sliver of a tear fell on the letter.

No, he was not going to cry.

No, he refused.

He wasn't going to cry, not over his mother or father, or his twin brother - he had a twin?! Did he have any more siblings, or was that it? Did his family know about him? - and he had been abandoned here, by Lily and James.

It was horrifying; Harry had always pictured his parents as loving people - he had learnt the hard way the Dursleys were liars and disgusting ones too - and they had loved him unconditionally, but now he had nothing but contempt for them. They had lived happy lives without him, with their precious Charlus.

It was at that moment, he realised he was going to make them pay the price, and he was going to make them pay in the worst way possible.

It took an age before he calmed down, but when he did he thought about what he was going to do. He had no intention of staying here at Privet Drive as if nothing had happened. He refused to spend any more time here, and he wanted to be free. But as he thought about it, Harry realised it would not be true freedom.

As much as he felt nothing but churning emotions concerning his parents right now while he refused to cry about them, Harry wanted to explore the magical world. It was his birthright. He wanted to know what it was to be a wizard, and being a wizard would mean he would have access to power and knowledge beyond anything he could find in a non-magical library. In the magical world, they had to have knowledge of how magic worked and he wanted that knowledge. He never wanted to be weak and helpless ever again. He wanted to be a strong, powerful wizard, one who had studied a long time in both worlds.

But most of all, he wanted to shove his knowledge into his parent's faces and make them regret their choices.

Harry stood up, taking the box with him and he went back downstairs. When he arrived, he found the Dursleys huddled together. They were looking at him with absolute fear, they had felt the house shaking as he lost it. As he looked at them, Harry let the air crackle around him as he thought of all the things his parents had done to him.

The Dursleys shook even more, through pain and horror as they saw Harry's face become demonic with rage.

"Aunt Petunia, you know where the magical world is, don't you?" Harry said.

"N-No, I don't," Petunia stuttered.

Harry snarled. "I'd have thought, after what you've seen, you would have realised lying is not in your best interests," he hissed before, to the horror of the watching Dursleys, a black glowing tentacle appeared and shot towards Dudley and tore him forwards until he was floating above Harry with the tentacle wrapped around him like a giant serpent.

"No!" Vernon yelled, hissing and wheezing in pain at the sight of his panicking son.

"No, Don't!" Petunia screamed.

"Silence!" Harry snarled, unknowingly lacing his words with magic to shut them up. "I have just discovered my whole life is a lie. I've just taken my first steps to becoming independent. I have learnt my parents are alive, and there is a whole world of magic waiting for me to reach out…and take it. But after what you have seen, I can see you just don't get it. You are in no position to lie to me. If you do it again, and I feel that you're lying, I will maim your son. I will tear his fingers and toes out before I tear his bones out.

"J.R.R. Tolkien wrote many great things in his books. One of them was 'Do not meddle in the affairs of wizards.' Don't get cocky, Aunt Petunia. You are in no position to be cocky. Now, you love your son a great deal. What a weakness. If you value his life, you are going to do as you are told. Now, answer my question; do you know where the magical world is and how to get in? You lived with her, so you must know. Now think your answer through, or your son will lose his leg before your eyes!"

For emphasis, another tentacle shot out and grabbed Dudley's left leg and pulled. Dudley screamed. "Mum, Mummy!"

Petunia screamed with her son.

"Do you know where the magical world is?"

"Yes!" Petunia screamed, unable to take it anymore. "Yes, I do. Now let him go."

"No, because he's coming with us. You are taking us to where the magical world is."

"But I can tell you!" Petunia protested.

"Why, so then you can send me off on a wild goose chase?" The sneer in Harry's voice was laced with contempt. "Yeah right. You are going to drive me there; I don't care how long the journey is, or where it is. You are going to take me there. There's a lot of work for me to do. I want to get started. Now, get ready for the journey, if you don't…your son will lose one of his fingers."

As he was speaking, the magical tentacle dropped Dudley onto the ground, and before the obese boy was able to move, more tentacles shot out and grabbed him and stopped the struggling boy. Painfully the tentacles held up Dudley's hand before they began squeezing.

"Alright, alright," Petunia said, unwilling and unable to bear her child being hurt.

"That's the smartest thing you've said all night," Harry remarked as he walked forwards, deciding to try something. "You will take me to the magical world. Dudley will come with us. He's my guarantee in case you do something stupid," he went on, doing what he had done with his power when he had demanded silence; he had noticed the Dursleys doing as they were told, and he had done the same thing here. "And after that….we can go our separate ways. Do we have a deal? Good. Now get your coats. And don't try anything stupid. If you do, Dudley will die and there will be one less Dursley on the planet. And don't even think about running away, because if you try... you will regret it."