A/N - Here you go. Something to read while you wait to see if this story is good, the all-important prologue! There are some other stories I have written (that are crap) on here so go check them out if you want, and you know of other books besides Harry Potter.
Also, IMPORTANT NOTE, if you are to read this story, please read the first three "chapters". You should also not be homophobic in any way and have a clear understanding of what abuse, neglect, and rape are. If you don't have an understanding of those topics this story will come as a bit of a shock to you, especially in later chapters. I would appreciate it if you don't know what they are that you look them up, and don't ask anyone about them, as they aren't casual conversation material. I also recommend reading an article on a case of abuse against and child, as well as a case of rape and maybe reading a fanfiction that mentions and gives details on the subject, just in a milder sense. If you have followed my instructions and still want to go on, you may. And for those who are still doubtful, there are no graphic scenes of rape, maybe what happens before and after, but not during.
Harry Potter was many things, he was a savior, a friend, a tool, an abomination, a servant, a hero, a freak. He was lazy, brave, and dumb, and also hardworking, scared, brash, and intelligent.
But Harry wasn't really any of these things. Only a few of these traits were part of his true nature, and the mask he wore was constantly changing. If you thought him to be a freak, he was lazy and mean. If you regarded him as a hero, he was brave and strong. If you wanted a friend, he was supportive and kind. If you needed a tutor, he was patient and intelligent. Whatever his audience thought of him, that's what he was.
In this way, Harry often referred to himself as an actor, only showing his true colors to those he trusted most. But his masks were faded and torn from all their use over the years, and they seemed to slip off more and more often. Harry desperately needed a mender, someone who could see him just as he was while his masks repaired themselves. But Harry only knew of a few people like that and was in no position to find them. And, as it was, anyone else he could safely reveal himself to (for the first time) was probably even farther. As the few he had already told his secrets were clumped together a good twenty miles away, and he wasn't sure exactly where those could reveal them to were. Harry did have a way to get to someone faster, but it would not help, so he was stuck where he was.
The problem was not that he was too hurt to travel there. The pain he could deal with, after ten years of doing the most ridiculous of chores with broken bones and numerous bruises. Besides, he could heal himself in an instant once he got some food in his stomach and a good night's sleep, without nightmares of his classmate's murder. The problem was the people who had hurt him. His relatives. They would definitely notice if he was gone for the entire night, as he was to be awake at an absurd hour in the morning to cook three full English breakfasts, wash the car, and do the laundry. There were other reasons too, the headmaster of his school, for one. A man named Albus Dumbledore. Who just had to set up wards around his house that blocked portkeys.
Portkeys, his least favorite way to travel in the Wizarding World. (Why was it called that anyway? Talk about sexist.) This probably had something to do with the fact that he had been transported to a graveyard where he had seen a fellow student murdered and watched as his arch-enemy was resurrected, by a portkey. It had been about a month ago when the incident had happened (and been ignored by the Ministry of Magic), as it was now the first of August.
He had one of these portkeys, a little chestnut lightning charm fixed around his neck by a leather cord, bumping against the little emerald and ruby crystal that allowed him to talk with certain, special individuals. These "necklaces" also had a handy charm so that only others with them could see them. But this necklace would do him no good. So he went to bed on August the first with a sigh.
A/N - The chapters after this are named for the mask he is using. Also, yes, I know, it's very short. And please review, even to state that my writing is complete garbage.