Chapter 1 One Bloodied letter

Okay guys I would like to say that 1 I am not dead, just had life get in the way, and 2 I would like to give another crack at continuing this, but no promises how far I get. If you would like for me to continue please leave a review to let me know there is interest. I will also be restarting this story to clear up my several year old writing style.

~~~ Disclaimer, I do not own Harry Potter, As well as a warning that this is going off the rails off cannon right from the start especially with some of the characters, timelines will be shifted etc. This story is going to be running loosely along the lines of a story written by Ironicism, however I did previously contact him and was granted leave to run with this story and make it my own, so I hope you all enjoy! ~~~

It is a warm evening at private drive, a summer in which you would commonly see people kicking back with drinks in hand after a nice meal. That is except for one tiny resident.

A young Harry potter, or otherwise known by the rest of his family as "Boy" or "Freak" lies curled up in pain, in a small dirty cupboard on what could generously be described as a ruined shapeless bloodied dog bed.

Now what most people of the wizarding world would be shocked to find out is that their boy who lived, their saviour who stopped HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED, is treated as less then a common house elf.

Whilst lying injured and whimpering in these god awful conditions, long past the point of crying, knowing that would only call for further beatings a single letter is clutched in his hand hidden and coated in blood from broken and bent fingers, baring the neat script reading "Mr Harry Potter The cupboard under the stairs 4, privet Drive Little Winging Surry"

It takes several hours lying in this state hiding his letter before the sound of his family, one light horse like string of an aunt, and 2 heavy Wales of an uncle and cousin climb the stairs and settle in for bed, that Harry take as chance to slowly ease out of his cupboard and by the light of the moonlight read his letter.

-Perspective change-

I hold back a whimper as I gently tug the string I have long ago looped around internals of the latch on my cupboard slowly unlocking the door with broken fingers and gingerly step out into the hall, my letter still curled in my hand. "S Slow I is smooth, Smooth is fast" I mutter to myself as I shuffle my way towards the window for the light of the full moon to illuminate the letter.

Dear Mr Potter,

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

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

"I… m maybe im not a freak" I whisper to myself, bitting my bottom lip nervously and turning the letter over in my hand trying to be careful not to get any more blood on it, knowing my fingers would straighten back up and look right by the morning…. I shake my head "I Ive got to take this chance…." I whisper

Dashing as quick as I can to the front door and peaking through the mailbox slot, to see one of the owls a pretty brown barn owl sitting on the mail box, even flying to land on the door mat as I peak through " Hello p pretty o owl could, could you wait here and h help me s send a letter o or find where to go?" *I smile wide when it seems to nod, but almost panic as it gives a hoot of acknowledgement as well, quickly trying to shush it*

"shhhh shhh please mr owl, j just wait h here I I'll be back as soon" I say making my way quickly back to my cupboard and shifting aside my itchy blanket and grabbing my small beat up bag I was given for school, walking to the base of the stairs and looking up nervously "I I have to do this" I mutter to myself.

Tiptoeing my way up the stairs sticking to the railing side so the stairs don't squeak and sneaking into my cousins room, trying to carefully pick my way through the litany of broken toys, to know the couple wallets would be hidden there, more then likely filled with notes and forgotten about.

{yay} I think to myself as I spot almost a hundred pounds and I take the wallet and sneak my back down, almost running for it when I hear a particularly loud grunt from my uncle and the sound of a bedframe groaning as he shifts his bulk. I carefully open the front door and step out, struggling not to fall over as the owl lands on my shoulder but giving it a little grin as it starts to pick through my hair.

"S so where to Mr Owl?"