July 25th, 1991

6:50 a.m.

Harry sat at the edge of his bed, remembering that first-time Aunt Petunia had begun to slowly unravel his mind. He wished she had stuck to Uncle Vernon's normal means, beatings, or solitary confinement.

In the last almost three years, Harry had heard exactly what it was called that she had done to him, rape. It was such a guttural awful word in his opinion, and it fits with the horrible emotions that the memories of it brought him, and the sinking despair that filled him any time his aunt brought him into the master bedroom upstairs to "punish" him.

Harry couldn't say that he was necessarily used to it, but by the third time, he knew what to do and how to avoid being slapped, punched, or cut by his aunt...

This train of thought wrought a fit of sobs to shudder from Harry's shoulders down to his very core and elicited even further shame in himself, for being so weak.

'Don't cry you idiot! They'll come and make you stop if they hear you,' Harry thought to himself furiously, as he rubbed at his eyes to stem the tide of tears that was threatening to overtake him. He would have to get up and be ready to make breakfast soon.

Plucking his glasses from beside his bed, he looked at his alarm clock that read six fifty-eight a.m.Sighing Harry removed his sleeping pants and shirt, to put on a pair of Dudley's old jeans. They were entirely too large for the thin ten-year-old. He grabbed part of an extension cord that didn't have the socket ends anymore and used it as a belt, then he pulled a long sleeve dark blue shirt over his head and left the relative safety of his cupboard.

Out in the quiet morning of the hallway, Harry walked to the door beside the stairs which led to the sinking feeling of dread he always got when approaching them. He bent down to absentmindedly pick up the mail for that morning, finding the start of the day no different than any other. Then Harry gazed down shuffling through the assortment of letters, finding the oddest sight he had ever seen in his short life. In elegant, thin handwriting on the envelope it read.

MR. H Potter

The Cupboard Under the Stairs,

#4 Privet Drive,

Little Whinging

Surrey

Frowning deeply, Harry looked to the top of the stairs all fear of them momentarily wiped from his thoughts, as his natural curiosity overtook him, and he walked to the kitchen to begin preparing breakfast.

Setting the skillet on the stove eye, and adjusting the heat settings to an acceptable level, he began frying some eggs that he would later scramble. While they got nice and cooked, he looked back at the letter which had a stylized "H" in a wax seal stamped on the blank back of the envelope.

Breaking the seal, Harry gazed down at the letter which had similarly elegant writing on the inside, while it was legible, it somehow made less sense to the young man as he read it.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all the necessary books and equipment. The headmaster has informed me that you may require a, shall we say, special service to have someone accompany you to Diagon Alley to procure the required materials and supplies for your term. The headmaster has stressed the need for a younger person to escort you to procure the supplies.

This is why we will be sending a recent addition to the school, Professor Septima Vector, to accompany you in purchasing your school materials. The headmaster has asked me to assure you that Professor Vector is completely trustworthy and has experience with children in your situation. Professor Vector will be arriving at your current place of residence on July 28th to collect you and help you with your purchases. The headmaster in his foresight has left an enchantment on this letter and envelope to alter the inside writing to the standard acceptance letter and be sealed as if it was never opened. Once it has been enclosed yet again in the original envelope, it will appear as if it had not been opened, for reasons he did not wish to elaborate further on to me at this time.

Term begins on September 1st. We await word from Professor Vector after she has assisted you.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Harry had no words to describe his confusion as he finished reading this strange letter. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? Was this letter supposed to be a joke, because if so, he didn't understand it at all. He was intrigued to see what the letter meant by resealing itself, so he began putting it back in the envelope and closed the wax seal. As if by an unseen magic the bottom of the wax bubbled from slight heat, and then it was sealed again as if it hadn't been opened.

This caused Harry to goggle in wonder, turning the letter end over end in his hands, inspecting it for any tares, burn marks, or any other sign it had been unsealed. For the first time in Harry's life, he stared in childlike wonder at the amazing yet simple form of magic.

His wonder quickly fled him as he remembered the eggs and took the skillet off the stove eye, while softly scrambling the eggs with a spatula. Once they were plated and set on three separate plates, Harry prepared to make some biscuits in the oven and start some sausage and bacon in the same skillet he had cleaned of egg residue.

Harry knew it wouldn't be a good idea to keep the letter to himself because if a woman did appear at the Dursley's house claiming to have sent a letter three days in advance, they would undoubtedly make him pay later for not giving them some form of advanced warning. So, reluctantly he shuffled the letter addressed to himself amongst the other letters and placed them casually at the head of the table, where Uncle Vernon always preferred the mail to be placed once Harry had collected it.

When Harry had finished calming himself down and prepared to lie about not opening the letter, he began fidgeting nervously with various utensils. The first time Harry had found out what happened when his uncle thought he was lying, was the same day Aunt Petunia had "punished" Harry.

His aunt had said in no short order, the exact same day she had forced herself on him, that if he told Uncle Vernon what happened he would kill Harry. If he somehow miraculously didn't end up being murdered by Vernon, Petunia would in his place, reunite Harry with his "whore mother" as she put it.

While Harry hadn't needed to lie because his uncle hadn't asked about anything he needed to lie about. It turned out that after his horrible experience that day, Harry had forgotten to finish cleaning the kitchen and dishes. Of course, when Harry had said he'd merely forgotten, his uncle hadn't believed him, and he'd made Harry put his hands on the ironing board and take said iron to Harry's hands. It had taken two or three nights longer than normal for Harry's hands to recover than they normally did.

After a while, Harry could hear his Goliath of an uncle waking up and preparing for work.

Harry gulped audibly, he positioned his head, so his ear was pointed toward the ceiling as if trying to hear the slightly perceptible "thump thump" of his uncle's footfalls. And before long his uncle's steps began their telltale descent on the stairs. They slowly made their way down until Harry finally saw out of the corner of his eye; his uncle had entered the room.

"Glad you haven't slipped in your duties since your aunt and I punished you accordingly a few years back, boy."

"Yes sir, thank you, sir," Harry said not making eye contact with his uncle, he had learned long ago that certain eye contact could be seen as a challenge of authority. No matter how hard he tried, his rebelliousness always shined through his eyes in some way or another.

Vernon nodded in Harry's peripheral vision, not quite with appreciation, but certainly not with overwhelming contempt. Harry supposed this must have been one of the nicer days for his uncle.

Until he heard an audible "SLAM" which made Harry cringe on reflex. Harry turned to his uncle from the stove to see what had gotten his hackles up and froze when he saw his uncle red-faced with one shaking hand holding a fork, and the other hand holding the envelope that Harry had inspected earlier.

His face was obviously angry with something else mixed in with his expression. Was that fear? No, Harry shook his head screwing his eyes shut not believing what he thought he had registered on his uncle's face, before looking again.

Now his uncle was trembling with either rage or fear as he turned the letter over, opened it, and read its contents. His eyes, once done inspecting the letter, snapped to Harry off In the corner trying to shrink into himself under the hostile stare.

"What. Is. This?"

"I-I don't know Uncle Vernon, I just brought the mail in and left it all where I usually do," Harry said in what he considered an effective poker face.

This caused his uncle to narrow his eyes at the shaking boy, searching his face for any signs of deceit. After a few seconds of gazing at his trembling nephew, Vernon let out an annoyed huff and turned back to the letter, his eyes reading over it yet again as if trying to come to a decision.

"Come here boy, and read this letter," Uncle Vernon ordered, barking at Harry in a gruff voice, his mustache quivering with contempt as his nephew's pathetic form slinked closer.

"Yes, sir."

Harry took the letter from his uncle's clenched hands gently, and he gazed down expecting to see the same letter he had read before, but an utter look of astonishment crept its way to his face as he saw what the letter now said.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards

Dear Mr. H Potter

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

Term Begins on September 1st, normally we would say that we await your owl by no later than July 31st.

However, we have decided it is necessary to send one of our esteemed Professors, Septima Vector, to collect you on the 28th of July to purchase your school supplies and materials. We will, in addition to this assistance, be providing room and board in The Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley to ease the transition to school for yourself and your family.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Harry could not believe his eyes at all, the letter had literally changed most of its previous text and been replaced with less... well for lack of a better word, antagonizing and insinuating sentences that would have, no doubt, not been lost on the Dursley's. Harry had to let out a sigh, inwardly knowing that the letter had kept its promise to change to a more acceptable format, even though he had been skeptical at first.

It seemed his uncle found his utter astonishment proof that Harry, had indeed not been lying when he said he hadn't even seen the person that the letter had been meant for, let alone the contents of the letter itself.

"Very well boy. Give that letter to your aunt when she comes down and tell her I want to discuss it with her when I return home, and no funny business."

Harry nodded quickly, knowing full well what would undoubtedly happen if he didn't follow through on his end of this order.

Nodding to himself, seeing Harry had understood the implications, and that he would show Petunia, Vernon finished eating his breakfast before leaving for work.

Prompting Harry to begin clearing off Uncle Vernon's side of the table before he heard Dudley and Aunt Petunia coming down the stairs slowly, seeing Harry cleaning part of the table.

"Freak," Dudley said as he shoulder-checked Harry, causing him to fall to the floor with little resistance, as any sign of defiance would be met with horrible retribution. This display seemed to make Dudley disgusted with Harry as he sat at the table beginning to stuff his fat face with wild abandon.

Harry carefully picked himself off the floor and slowly made his way over to his aunt, who had been watching the show in the entrance to the hallway with not at all concealed glee. That look vanished as Harry stood in front of her, eyes averted and staring at the ground, his eyes darted up slightly to meet hers and he muttered," Uncle Vernon told me to give this to you when you came downstairs, and that he wanted to discuss it with you after he gets back."

With a flippant yet suggestive motion, Petunia brushed her hand against Harry's which was clutching the letter outstretched to give to her. This made Harry's eyes go wide in fear as he began shaking, not at all enjoying the contact that seemed to stab into his skin like millions of tiny needles along the trail of skin his aunt's hand followed as it took the letter. The small knowing smirk she leveled at him didn't help his trembling legs as she brought the letter up to her eyes to inspect the parchment.

The smirk that she had was slowly and savagely wiped off her face as she read the letter all the way through. The barely concealed rage was not missed by Harry, as her eyes flicked to his own sorrow-dulled emerald orbs. The color seemingly enraged her further causing her neck muscles to tense to a dangerous level. She slowly closed her eyes taking in deep calming breaths, before she opened them back up and put her focus on Dudley, who had not noticed the tension in the air, and finished his food.

"Dudykins go and get ready for school," she said prompting him to nod and head back to his room with lumbering steps, that in Harry's opinion, were as bout as spry as Vernon's. Harry began making his way over to his "room" before Petunia grabbed his arm, making the tiny needle sensation come back one hundredfold, feeling as if his arm were being pierced by knives at every angle.

"You," she said levelly and wickedly gazing into Harry's eyes with her pale blue ones," are staying here today, so we can have a little. Chat. "

Harry looked down, filled with so many swirling dark and horrible emotions in his head, wishing more than ever that he had the strength to make her stop, make her pay, make all these BASTARDS pay.

'Do it. Why hesitate,' a voice filled with cruel glee at his thoughts, hissed in his ear clearly not sounding like himself,' Kill them. Kill them all. They deserve it after all. She. Deserves it. For what she's done to you.'

Not noticing this internal struggle, Petunia sneered at Harry's trembling form, before walking away to the kitchen to eat and leave Harry to his own devices until she returned.

'I can't,' Harry thought furiously.

'Why not? It would be so easy. You're small and quiet. It would be no trouble at all to sneak into their rooms at night and. Slit. Their. Throats.'

'NO! I won't be the same sort of monster they all are. LEAVE. ME. ALONE.'

And just like that, Harry heard no more of the voice. He could only hear the audible shuffling of Dudley above him, getting ready in his room. This caused Harry to look around frantically, looking for someone who could have possibly been speaking to him.

Was he finally going crazy? Did he snap? He didn't feel very different, so he must still be sane.

This caused him to frown in confusion, clutching his head before he let out a slow breath of frustrated air and let his arms drop to his sides. He slowly opened his cupboard door, going inside to lie down until his aunt got back from dropping Dudley off at school.

Harry had never much cared for public school. He was usually picked on by Dudley and his friends, and when he wasn't, he had small amounts of blessed solitude from other people. In truth, he wanted nothing more than to have friends, but at this point, he didn't trust anyone in the current school he was attending, because they all feared Dudley and his knuckle-dragging friends enough to keep their distance from Harry.

Maybe if this strange school was a real place, and he had somehow been entered and accepted to attend, he could possibly make friends. It would certainly be nice for him.

Harry heard a soft "click" as the front door closed, signaling his aunt and Dudley had left him on his own. Harry closed his eyes not realizing he was so tired just from the events of this morning alone.

'It wouldn't be so bad if I just... rested my eyes for a little while would it,' Harry thought to himself before his eyes fluttered shut and he slipped into unconsciousness, thinking a very nice thought, that he might finally be accepted by someone.

Harry. Harry. He heard someone say softly, as if off in the distance. He could feel a hand on his cheek as he brought his own hand around to grasp it.

He frowned. Something felt nice. His cheek and hand felt like they were being lovingly stroked by a dainty and soft hand that ran its thumb down his cheek, making him relax further. The scent of a comfortable chimney fire was in his nostrils.

'Wake up fool!'

This caused Harry to jerk awake, his eyes focused looking around frantically, his heart racing, and his hand clutching for a phantom hand that wasn't there. No one was anywhere near him in the small cupboard, letting out a sigh of relief before he froze yet again, hearing a key being inserted in the front door. His aunt was home.

Harry was alone. With her.

Harry gulped, before getting up and exiting the relative safety he felt in this small space. Any shred of safety he felt was immediately gone, once he closed his door he was pushed fiercely against the wall by his aunt, her body pressed too close for his liking.

"Care explaining this," she growled showing him the letter that he had given her before she left.

Harry's jaw trembled, trying to search for an answer that might hopefully just elicit a beating and not. That.

"I-I don't know Aunt Petunia. Uncle Vernon found it in the mail this morning and he had me read it. I think it's a school Acceptance letter but I don't think I ever applied to any school," Harry said, trying not to struggle as much as he could because it would just make her more… Harry didn't even want to think of the word.

Looking into Harry's eyes and seeing no sign of deceit she nodded slowly at him. Just now realizing the position she had Harry in, she let out a low groan," Does this position remind you of anything? Harry."

This made his eyes widen in fear at the implications. He was so terrified he couldn't even answer, eliciting yet another predatory smirk from his aunt, who slowly let up on the pressure she was putting on him. Then slowly, she ran her hand down his arm grasping it at the wrist.

'No.'

She slowly began dragging him to the right, making her way to the base of the stairs.

'No. Please.'

Then her foot met the bottom step, still holding onto Harry, fully intending on taking him with her upstairs.

Harry suffered even further that day, having several brutal cuts and bruises on his body, which his Uncle didn't even bother asking about when he returned home later that day. Harry wished he had just been beaten.