AN: I'm gonna make a few things clear real quick. This story diverges heavily from canon. It will not be the same story, though you will see references and allusions to the original story. Harry is not going to be canon Harry, and those who he interacts with are going to feel differently towards him. He could make the same friends or he might make different friends. The truth is, I don't know fully what is going to happen. I only know what I want the outcome of the story to be. It will be a dark path to get there, and if you're not a fan of grimdark stories, then you might want to look elsewhere.

Please enjoy, and if you have any constructive feedback, feel free to DM me. Thank you for the follows and the favorites. I look forward to writing the story for you all.

TW: Child Abuse

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Harry spent so much time in his little cupboard that he sucked in the fresh air when he had finally been let out. His first step was to clean his temporary toilet. The good thing about cleaning it out in the back was that it made a good fertiliser for the garden. Petunia was so proud of her garden, not that she did much of the work. Most of the time it was Harry who weeded and watered the flowerbeds.

His next step was the bathroom. Lucky for him, his relatives wanted him to take a bath as much as he did. He could see how uncomfortable his stench had made them and he was half tempted to just keep it up, but his nose did wrinkle at the thought. If he could smell it, it had to be really bad.

After he had cleaned out his cupboard, Harry was ready to stay as quiet as possible. His unused voice made that easy. Every word he said was barely audible, hoarse, and scratchy. The strain itself made him cough.

During his lockdown, Harry's cousin had been busy terrorizing the neighborhood with his selfish, unfettered behaviour. Dudley and his gang of complete imbeciles had gone from Harry hunting to complete anarchy. Whatever kids were left were all free game to their violent tendencies. Even poor Mrs. Figg hadn't come out of it unscathed. Dudley laughed hard enough to bring him to the floor whenever he told the story of how he circled around her in the street knocking her down again and again by kicking out her crutches from underneath her as he rode around on his new bike. Why the boy even bothered to regale Harry was an enigma, but it was better than the alternative.

When Harry entered the kitchen after a quick shower, it was obvious why they chose today to let him out. It smelled like death and broccoli.

"What's that smell?" Harry said, trying to cover his mouth as he grabbed what was left of breakfast. A runty, disfigured muffin and a few grapefruit slices.

"It's your school uniforms for Stonewall," his aunt said. Her face was tight, but Harry wasn't sure if that was because of the smell or because he dared to ask in the first place. "They wear all grey there, so I've been dyeing some of Dudley's old clothes. No one will be able to tell the difference."

Either she was way too confident in her abilities, or Stonewall had some very disturbing standards for their uniforms. A school like that was bound to be such a wonderful place.

"Oh. Thanks, I suppose," Harry said, backing away and making his way over to the table. He'd barely sat down when his uncle spoke in Harry's presence for the first time since their last interaction.

"Get the mail, Dudley," Vernon said, apparently having made a habit of getting his own son to do it while Harry had been sequestered away.

"Make Harry get it," Dudley said, waving his new cane around. A stick that was apparently a part of the school uniform for Smeltings Academy.

"Oh that's right," his uncle sneered. "Get the mail, Harry."

There was no point in arguing, so he got up after taking a bite of his muffin. When he grabbed the mail, he cycled through it, looking more at the senders than the recipient. If they were any of the myriad of companies that sent bills, he would know how best to interpret his uncle's attitude. There was one with the most curious of addresses. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Harry choked his bite of muffin down and coughed.

Of all the strange things, it was addressed to Harry. Even more odd was that the address included the cupboard under the stairs. No doubt it would make the Dursleys absolutely furious, so he definitely should not bring it into the kitchen with him.

"What's taking so long, boy?" Vernon yelled from the other room.

"Coming!" Harry called back. He shoved the letter into his cupboard as he passed by and entered the kitchen as if nothing strange had happened at all.

He handed the mail to his uncle and sat back down. His muffin was gone and a small glance towards Dudley's smug face suggested exactly where it had gone. Thankfully the pudgy arse didn't eat healthy things, so Harry still had his grapefruit slices to tide him over until the next opportunity for food presented itself. The tart flavor made his watering mouth clench and his jaw tighten.

"Marge is ill," Vernon said to the room.

As if Harry was listening by this point. His mind was occupied solely by the letter he'd hidden away. The trouble was how he would even be able to read it.

One option was to sneak it out and attempt to read it in the garden or down at the park, but he would have to risk being caught by Petunia and Dudley in each instance. Another thought that occurred to him was to try and replace the light bulb in his cupboard. Like everything, it had its difficulties. The most important thing was to not get caught, and of all the options, his cupboard was the best place to get some privacy.

Besides, Dudley would probably foam at the mouth if Harry even thought about stepping foot into the neighborhood. His best option, his only option, would have to be to switch out the bulb. The bathroom was the best place to find a working one, but he'd have to choose his time very carefully.

In the meantime he kept to himself and he kept quiet.

Vernon slammed his hand on the table, causing all the flatware to shake. "Are you listening to me, boy?"

"Sorry," Harry said. "I was thinking about the chores I had to do."

His uncle grumbled something about cheap excuses. "That's damn right you have chores. You think because you've been allowed to sleep in your room all day that you can take it easy?"

The way his uncle said that made Harry's nerves shake, but he had ten years of experience quelling his frustration with Vernon's ignorance. Harry shook his head. "No sir. I was going to tend the garden and clean the house."

"Good. Clean the dishes before you go outside. They don't clean themselves," Vernon said with a chuckle.

Harry didn't know what was so funny about that but he shrugged and nodded. "Yes, sir."

The dishes were easy. Probably the easiest of all his chores. Unfortunately, it was one that kept popping up throughout the day, some days more than others. The more his relatives ate, the more he had to clean.

Afterwards, he headed outside to the gardens. He watered the flowers and pruned the bushes to promote growth. It was summer after all, and the plants would need the attention with all the heat coming their way.

All the while his thoughts went back to the letter. Of all the places to send him one, it just had to be a school for witchcraft and wizardry. It sure sounded appealing, but Harry had to wonder what that even entailed. There was no way it was to do card tricks or saw someone in half or they simply would have called it magic school. At least that's what he thought.

Witches were known for casting spells, and wizards usually had staffs and spoke weird incantations. Their type of magic wasn't just an illusion pretending to be magic. Until now, Harry would have thought that real magic existed. It was hard to imagine such fantastic things as real. They were just the subject of stories.

Harry wasn't sure exactly where that left him, but he was going to get to the bottom of it. At the very least, he could send a reply and ask for a brochure or something.

The garden wasn't at its best from his absence, but at least they hadn't locked him up for the entire summer or else it would probably be dead. Either from being over or under-watered by his aunt. The flowers would come back stronger under his care, that was a definite outcome.

Smiling at his work, he washed his hands off with the hose and shook the dirt from his clothes and hair. When he got inside, he was surprised to see it was well past noon. Everyone else was otherwise occupied. His uncle was watching television and his aunt was doing the laundry. That was one chore he was lucky enough to avoid. She had this obsessive nature towards her clothes and how they had to be absolutely perfect. The thought had apparently never crossed her mind to let him have a go. Probably for the best. His oversized hand-me-downs were his own responsibility though.

Before cleaning, Harry would have to change and shower again just to make sure he wouldn't smear dirt anywhere while he cleaned. What a perfect opportunity to switch out the bulbs.

One quick stop by his cupboard and everything would be easy as pie. He opened the door with the intent to grab more clothes, but his heart stopped. His letter wasn't even there.

"What's taking so long, freak?" Dudley said from above him, sitting on the stairs with a letter in his hands. The fact that the blonde prat used the same words his father had earlier that morning did not go unnoticed.

Harry ground his teeth. Still, he had his chores to get to. Letter or not, it didn't change things at the moment. Right now he had to avoid making a scene at all costs, or risk getting in much deeper trouble from his aunt and uncle. He quickly unscrewed the bulb in the cupboard and grabbed his only untouched clothing.

With his eyes narrowed, Harry looked up the stairs at the clearly taunting face of his cousin. He began walking up towards the bathroom, but the boy seemed to think Harry had given chase and snickered as he bounded down the hallway.

Unfortunately it hadn't been his room that he had absconded into. It was the bathroom itself.

Harry cursed his luck and did the only thing he could. He knocked on the door.

"Who's there?" Dudley sang in what he probably thought was a sweet voice, but sounded more like a dying spider.

"You know exactly who it is," Harry said. "Let me in. I need to take a shower."

"No. Not until you say the magic words."

Of course he was going to play that card. Vernon and Petunia were sickened by such things, but Dudley was a whole new brand of sadist.

"Please," Harry said with a sigh, hoping the boy wasn't going to push it any further.

"Not those words, freak," Dudley said in a surprisingly low register. But no, Harry had to be imagining it. Was the boy actually trying to hide this from his parents? "The other kind of magic words."

Harry tried to calm down and think about this logically. His cousin was already acting way outside of his normal parameters. It was up to Harry to figure out why, and do so in a way that wouldn't send the attention seeker crying to his parents. Both of which Harry hadn't hear any sound from.

"Open sesame," he whispered through the crack under the door.

Immediately, the door came swinging open and Harry was dragged in, he could feel something crunch within the bundle of clothes and he winced. The door closed behind him. Dudley locked the door and turned on the water. Harry was shocked, utterly flabbergasted at how seriously the boy was taking this.

"You did it, didn't you?" Dudley asked, jumping at Harry.

Easily dodging the fat boy's attempt to assail him, Harry rolled to the door and put his hand on the handle. If anyone was going to have control of this conversation, it was going to be him and not his super-sized cousin.

"What?" Harry hissed, suddenly reminding himself of the last time his voice sounded like that. "You mean with the snake?"

"Yes!" Dudley yelled, and quickly covered his mouth. Until he realized it didn't help the situation at all. "You did it, you magicked the glass away, didn't you?"

Harry had to think about that still. A month later and he hadn't figured out how it all happened, or even how it was remotely possible. "It's not like I wouldn't have loved to do it, if only as revenge for shoving me down for absolutely no reason. But I really don't know how it happened."

"Right," Dudley said, clearly thinking hard. For years, the behemoth had done really well at hiding how smart he was. It wasn't like Vernon had much pull towards his old alma mater. Dudley had actually earned his way into the school. "Well. If you didn't do it, then why is a magic school sending you an acceptance letter?"

Acceptance letter? Harry couldn't remember ever applying anywhere. "No clue. I never applied," Harry said, his voice trailing off. "I haven't even gone anywhere in a month, and I'm a little surprised that I wasn't held back."

"Yeah, funny thing that. Dad made me take your tests and sent them in saying it was you, but that you were too sick to come in. So, you're welcome."

"Really?" Harry asked, relaxing his grip on the door. It wasn't all that surprising. Vernon would probably do anything in his power to speed up getting Harry out of his house. So would Harry, if people would just stop bringing him back here. "That sounds unreal, but whatever. I truly don't know how any of this is happening, and I certainly didn't ask for it."

"You know my mom talks in her sleep," Dudley said, sitting on the toilet.

"So," Harry narrowed his eyes. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"I used to think she just had a fun imagination," he said. "Then these weird things started happening around you and I started thinking that maybe she was remembering something. She keeps asking Aunt Lily to teach her magic. Why would she do that?"

Why indeed. "Are you suggesting Aunt Petunia might actually know something about all this?" Harry asked. The fact that it was his own mother that was the subject of these supposed dreams was more intriguing. All he'd ever been told was that she died in a car crash along with his father.

"I think so, but that's not the point."

"It kinda is," Harry said, getting more agitated by the second. "You all treat me like I'm the worst thing to walk this planet. I'm constantly punished because weird things happen around me. I didn't even know I had a name until I was sent to primary school."

Dudley was speechless. For once in his life he wasn't screaming for his parents to get Harry in trouble, but it could all change at any moment. And yet Harry couldn't stand it, all of it, especially his cousin's silence in this moment. They knew this whole time that there was something odd about Harry, knew and tried to literally beat it out of him.

"I think the only reason you haven't punched me yet is because you want something from me," Harry said. Well, that and he was too fast for his over-encumbered rival. "So what is it? Spit it out."

"I want to learn how to do magic," he said meekly. "Clearly mom never did, otherwise I wouldn't exist."

"And I would never have had to deal with this hell," Harry said gesturing around himself. "So what does it matter? Things are the way they are and I can't change what already happened. I haven't even been able to change my current situation."

"Maybe you can," Dudley suggested, the words echoing the pain on his face. This was new ground for Harry. Acting civil, showing anything but hostility. These were the last things he expected from his cousin. "What if you can succeed where Aunt Lily failed?"

Harry mulled that over. "You want me to teach you magic?"

Dudley nodded emphatically.

"You are seriously overestimating whatever this is," Harry said, shaking his head. "We don't even know if this is real. It could be a joke."

In fact, Dudley's finding the letter and holding it against Harry made it seem all the more like a joke. It just occurred to him how ridiculous this was, and conveniently it happened the day he was released from his hole in the wall. He let out a breath.

"Just keep the letter," Harry said. "Show your mom and dad for all I care. It's a joke. I didn't do anything, and I never have. There's no such thing as magic, and there's no such thing as Hogwarts. Leave me alone or don't, it doesn't make a difference to me. Now can you please take the letter and get out of here so I can clean off and do the chores that you've never been asked to do."

Dudley rose from the toilet. The boy's eyes were so much different from what Harry expected. Sad, dejected, disappointed. Not the normal angry cousin he always knew. If Harry could just forget this all happened he would in an instant, but the thought tugged at his brain.

"I want this," Dudley growled on his way out and shouldered into Harry, the letter crumpled in his hand. "I always get what I want. You know that."

Harry's stomach curled as he shut the door behind his cousin. All his hope was diminished. The letter was gone and with a chance at privacy once more he opened his bundle of clothes and saw proof of what he had worried about when he was first pulled into the bathroom. He cleaned up the small shards of glass within his shirt and took his second shower of the day.

It was well needed after all the emotional stress he had just endured. It was up to his cousin to keep is mouth shut, but Harry had the feeling that was an impossibility. So he relished in the warmth of the water for as long as he could, until the water held no heat anymore.

When he got out, he opened the door to a sight he half expected.

Vernon was clutching a crumpled piece of paper in his hand, Dudley smiling smug behind him. Harry didn't even have enough time to take in a breath before he was flung down the hall. From the complete chaotic and violent nature of his airborne trajectory, flying through the air got his little heart beating fast. Up to the point his arm smacked against the wall, it was strangely exciting. The feeling of which disappeared the second he felt a sharp jolt of pain. When he looked down he saw his arm hanging limply at his side, the pain had tears streaming out of his eyes.

"Where did this come from?" Vernon snapped as he waddled his way towards Harry's prone body. He began unbuckling his belt and it was all over.

Harry retreated into the recesses of his mind and tried to ignore the pain, but it was impossible. Each snap of the leather ate at his skin. Red welts began forming and it didn't even matter what the words coming out of his uncle's mouth were. All that mattered was why. Once again something strange happened and this time there was no possibility it was Harry's fault.

He still got the blame for it, but it proved something. No matter what he did or how hard he tried to be normal, it would not work. He would still be the object of his relatives hate, the recipient of their unwarranted violence. Everything was a trick, everything was a lie. No one would help him but himself.

His hatred burned. It dug itself deeper into his skin, took a hold of his muscles until it pumped through him like the very blood in his body. His arm snapped back into place, shocking him out of his meditation. He could feel the tingling under his skin, the surge of strength as all his welts disappeared and a force knocked his hulk of an uncle backwards, stumbling over his legs and falling into a pile of blubber.

He'd done it now. There was nothing else. If his uncle had enough time to collect himself, Harry was over. His life would end here and today, unless he did something.

He ran over to his uncle and grabbed the paper out from the man's hand, who was struggling hard just to right himself.

"See you never, cousin," Harry said and he ran down the stairs and out the door.

It didn't matter where he went, but there was one place his uncle wouldn't find him. Even if he sent the police after him, it would take a few days before they were able to gather enough organization to find him. He ran around the corner and straight into the heart of Swinley Park. If he kept going west, he could find his way to London and live on the streets if he had to.

The forest was thick and spanned farther than he could walk in a day. That was what had always scared him before, but death out here was at least better than a death at the hands of his hateful relatives.

Harry walked until the sun was low on the horizon, never looking back and taking one trail after another until he wouldn't be able to find his way back. A good thing from all viewpoints. No one wanted him back there. Once he was good and lost he ducked off the side of the path and into the forest, taking shelter behind a fallen tree.

Only then did he decide to read his letter.

It was just what Dudley had said, an acceptance letter to a school he never applied to. He had about a month to send a reply, by his estimation. He wasn't actually sure what day it was, but it had to be close to July by now and they wanted his reply by the end of July. Of all the ways they asked for a reply, it said that they wanted him to reply by owl. Harry looked around at the trees. Was this all a test and he was meant to catch one?

He frowned. It would probably not go all that well if he tried. There had to be something he was missing. He kept reading and read the list of all the things he had to bring with him.

"Great," Harry said to himself. "How am I supposed to even find all this, let alone buy it?"

He flipped the page over and found a second sheet of paper attached to the first. It was an instruction sheet for where to go and to ask for a place called Diagon Alley. These instruction were exactly what he had needed. Even more, a key fell into the dirt and he paused for a moment.

The paper he could have overlooked, but a key would have been hard to miss. His cousin would have seen it, and his uncle would have watered at the mouth just thinking about what it could unlock. Harry was more than a little curious himself. He sat there staring at it for a while, unsure whether this was really happening. He reached down and picked it up.

There was no denying the facts as they had happened, after all. Something within Harry had healed his body and forced his uncle to let go of him. Dare he think it true. Did magic actually exist? The random appearance of a key was like a light turned on in his head. It was real all along.