***IMPORTANT*** TW***

If it wasn't clear in the summary, this story will be dealing with child abuse and neglect, so there is a trigger warning. Please do not read if it's going to be hard for you!

(Also, HP obviously belongs to JKR – or the fans, whatever you choose, lol)

JKR don't come after me – that was a joke, please don't sue, I'm not a billionaire

Chapter One: The Boy Who Lived

BEFORE

"You are not special; you are not our family. You are nothing but a freak. Do you understand that?"

His uncle let go of the boy's neck, dropping him to the ground. There was only a moment of hesitation as he struggled to get his voice back, then: "Yes sir."

"It would do you good to remember that. I don't want any more accidents. Two weeks, boy. Two weeks in there. Make sure that it's gone by the time you come back out."

The boy shivered as the door closed, trapping him in the dark.

"Please uncle." His hands pressed against his cupboard door. "Please."

A fist banged his door and he fell back. "You have a bucket, you ungrateful brat!"

Tears threatened to spill over. "It's full, uncle. I-I have nowhere else-"

"I don't fucking care! Deal with it, boy, or you will stay in there for another week, you hear me!?" Another bang on the door. "Do you hear me, you fucking freak!?"

His entire body trembled. "Yes, sir."

Silence, then: "Make sure it is gone, boy, by the time we let you out. No more freaky business."

"Yes sir." The boy let his head fall in defeat.

"Good. And you will be cleaning all of it when your time is up." The voice was closer this time, coming in through the vent on the door.

The boy put his head in his hands in humiliation. "Yes uncle."

Silence again, then a whisper: "You disgusting little freak."

The sun was hot, and the boy winced, his skin taut and aching. But he kept at the weeds, not wanting to face the punishment he would certainly be subjected to if he stopped.

"Boy! What's taking you so long?"

His head whipped up almost painfully. "I'm sorry, Auntie, I-"

A slap, and then the hand was gripping his hair tightly as she pulled his head back. "I don't want to hear your excuses. Get this done, and then go inside and clean the bathrooms." She yanked his hair. "And you better not slack off this time, you little brat."

The tears were almost spilling over at this point. "But I haven't been-"

Another tug of his hair. "Do you want another punishment, hmm?" He shook his head. His aunt harumphed, pushing his head away from her. "Get to work."

His shoulders hunched. "Yes ma'am."

And, for the first time in his life, he let the resentment bubble, just a bit.

He only stood up to his cousin once. Only once, and that was because his cousin was picking on a younger kid, and the boy didn't like seeing that.

So, he defended the smaller, younger kid. Because that was what you did. If only his aunt and uncle thought that way too.

And if only his cousin wasn't such a snooty-nosed snitch.

"There's no such thing as magic!"

The boy's eyes widened. "I didn't mean to!"

The responding blow was hard enough that it caused the boy's head to snap to the side, the sound ringing throughout the kitchen, matching the ringing in his ears.

"You stupid, stupid, boy! We took you in and this is how you repay us? There is no room in this house for whatever freakshow you have going on!"

Tears threatened to overflow, and he sniffled. "I'm sorry, Auntie."

Another slap, then a push into his cupboard. "You'll stay in there until you stop doing it, do you understand? Until you can get rid of it!"

He ducked his head in shame. "Yes, ma'am."

Silence, then: "Your Uncle will deal with you when he comes home."

And the boy, resigned, had no choice but to obey because he really didn't like the dark, not when it seeped into him more and more each time he was in it, like a virus, or an infection. Bad things happened in the dark.

He only had a friend once in his life, though he didn't know what that word meant, nor the significance of it, at the time. It was only for a few hours, but they had been friends for those entire two hours.

His aunt was out, and she didn't want him to stay in the house. So, he was dumped at the park, and he reveled in the chance to play, by himself, without his mean cousin around.

And the other kid there didn't know him, or his cousin, and they weren't afraid to play with him. And the boy played, all day long, and it was the most fun he had ever had.

Reality hit quickly when he got home, but he remembered that day for a long while after that.

It had only been an accident. It had only been an accident, but now he was locked in his cupboard. It had been the longest he'd gone without contact with humans. He didn't have to go to school, so his aunt and uncle didn't need to let anyone see him.

They had learned from last time. The smell had been unbearable, even for them. For 23 hours of the day, he was locked in the cupboard. He got an hour out. An hour to go to the bathroom, to wash their dinner dishes, to drink the glass of water they had left for him, and on the one day during the week that they were giving him food, to eat the meager amount they had left out on the kitchen counter. Then he'd go back to his cupboard and close his door. If he was late, another week was added. He was never late.

The worst part was, they never spoke to him. They never spoke to him, and they never came near him. They only ever approached when a cupboard door separated them, to unlock or lock the dreaded door.

The boy could feel his thoughts disappearing from his brain, and all that was left was hunger, pain, and misery. And resentment. It was festering inside him, like an infection. One and a half months of this would drive anyone insane, especially when trapped with this darkness. He would take insults, punches, and slaps if it meant he could have some contact with other people.

Anything over this darkness.

"Harry."

The voice was kind, kinder than any other he had heard before, but he didn't dare open his eyes, even with the warmth surrounding him, so peacefully.

"Harry, love, you're going to have to wake up."

Harry smiled. The voice was nice. He didn't want to wake up. If he woke up, the voice, the warmth, and the light, would go away.

"We've never gone away, Harry. We've always been there, and we will stay with you. Promise." The voice this time was deeper, rougher, but was just as kind and just as warm as the other one. Harry snuggled in deeper.

"Sweetheart, it's time to wake up. Remember the light, okay?"

He didn't know what that meant, but he couldn't help but agree with the nice voice.

And then he woke up, back in the darkness, and all he could remember of the dream was a lingering warmth and two soft, kind voices.

"What the hell are you doing!? Have you not learned to hoover properly? You stupid boy!"

The boy sat up, holding his stinging cheek. "I'm sorry, Auntie."

"Do not lie to me, you rotten brat!"

To both their surprise, the vase she had flung at his head stopped midair. He met her eyes, and it came crashing down, breaking into thousands of pieces.

He was in for it now.

Meaty hands gripped his neck tightly, the man red faced and angry as spittle flew out of his mouth, hitting the boy in the face. "I thought I told you to get rid of it!"

"I'm sorry, Uncle." The boy knew what was going to happen, though, no matter what he said.

A fist collided with his face, and he was shoved into the cupboard. "A week, boy."

The door slammed, the light flickering off, and the darkness grew, inside and out.

The bullies were mean, and the boy didn't like them. Didn't like them at all. They hurt him and hit him, and he could take it, for a bit, but only for a little bit.

He didn't mean to do it. It was the darkness, the bubbling, boiling darkness inside him, and before he could realize what was happening, before he could forget about the hurting and the pain, the darkness stopped it for him.

"Hi."

The boy looked up, surprised that someone came to talk to him. "H-Hi."

"Wow! Are you really Harry Potter?" Their eyes were wide as they stared at his forehead.

Panic. "H-How do you know who I am?" Harry's heart thundered in his chest, but he didn't run away, even though he desperately wanted to. He had good manners. He was a good boy.

The child laughed. "Everyone knows who you are!"

More panic. "Everyone? Why?"

"Because. You're magic, you survived the killing curse!"

Now the fear was replaced with anger, and Harry pushed the child away from him. "There's no such thing as magic!" The wind ruffled his hair, and he shivered, but he didn't take his eyes off the now terrified child in front of him. "Magic is for freaks!"

He didn't bother to wait and see what the child would say. His aunt wouldn't have wanted him to hang out around freaks. So, he ran, pushing away the niggling guilt inside him.

He was a bad boy. His aunt thought so, his uncle thought so, his cousin, even his teachers. He was bad, and wicked, and a freak, and he wanted it to go away.

When he finally opened his eyes, the trees around him were destroyed, flattened, like a giant foot came and squished them all down.

But he could be good now. He just had to control it.

Hot, stabbing pain. That was all he knew. "It hurts, I-I think it's broken."

Her cold eyes looked down at him, staring as he cradled his arm to his chest. "You're fine."

"But Auntie-"

Her hand attacked quickly, and he held his good arm up to his cheek. "Do not talk back to me, boy. You brought this on yourself, we told you to stop it, didn't we?" Her words struck hard and fast, just like her hand had, and he blinked away the tears.

"I'm sorry."

"Get in there. I don't want to hear a sound of you, got it?"

The boy shivered but closed his eyes in compliance. "Yes, ma'am."

Then there was only darkness, and silence, once again.

And resentment, almost like an old forgotten friend at this point, returned, just a little bit.

"So, Harry, how's Year 2 going?"

He sipped his tea, holding in the sneeze when a cat rubbed against his leg. "Good."

His babysitter smiled, eyes twinkling. "Yeah? Are you making friends?"

He didn't know what that meant. "Yes," He said instead, knowing that that was what she wanted to hear.

The woman smiled, petting the cat on her lap. "How's your family treating you? It must be awful not to get to go with them to the waterpark."

The boy straightened in his seat. "I was misbehaving. Bad boys don't get to go to waterparks, only good boys do. I need to stop it if I want to go."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "Stop what?"

But Harry didn't answer, taking another sip of his tea. Others wouldn't understand. That was what they told him, that others wouldn't understand that what they were doing was only to help him. They wouldn't understand, so he wasn't supposed to tell.

He didn't want to be taken away, did he? No, he wanted to be a good boy.

His uncle never beat him. Not usually. But today, well, today, the boy had been way too much of a freak and his uncle would not let that slide.

And after the first beating he had ever received; the boy was locked in his cupboard for the longest amount of time so far. Three months. Alone, isolated, hungry, and scared, for three months.

The darkness was practically storming.

He was gone, he had disappeared, and all that was left was hunger, like knives stabbing him in the stomach, and thirst, choking him out like the man did sometimes when he was really angry. The boy was so very tired, so he closed his eyes, just for a little bit.

The darkness encircled him dutifully, but it was a different darkness this time, one that barely scared him.

Only two more days. He could hold on to it for two more days. He just hoped they would keep their promise, because he didn't know what the darkness would do if he was trapped in here for longer than two days.

He found a little kitten once. It was cold, and tiny, and really, really sick. He didn't know what to do, but he felt really sorry for the poor little animal. It was all lost and alone and had no parents. Like him.

So, he picked it up, and the woman next door, who babysat him on occasion, happily took in the kitten.

The boy always enjoyed visiting his kitten when he was over.

He cried. He didn't mean to get lost, he really didn't. But now he was, and his aunt was going to be so angry at him. He stumbled around, crying so much at this point that he could barely see anything.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

The boy took off running. They told him not to talk to strangers, especially strangers that wore such weird clothes, and he didn't want to be bad. But he soon found himself on the ground, the wind knocked out of him.

"Oof. Are you okay?" A new stranger was kneeling beside him, and the boy's eyes widened. "Hey, sweetie? Are you okay? I didn't mean to run into you." He nodded, just to get the strange woman to stop talking. "What's your name?" He only stared, and the woman cleared her throat. "Well, my name's Amelia."

The boy watched her carefully. "Harry."

"Well, nice to meet you, Harry." They went to shake, but then Harry saw his bleeding hands. The tears welled up. "Oh, hey! It's okay! Hey, hey, it's okay." Amelia took out a weird looking stick and waved it over his hands. And Harry could only stare, horror-struck, as his cuts and bruises healed themselves in seconds. "There. Good as new. See?"

Harry did indeed see, but it was not good. No, it was not good at all. He leapt to his feet and took off running again.

That woman was a freak, and magic was bad. But she was kind, he had to admit. Much nicer than his auntie was most of the time and way nicer than his uncle ever was.

His family had left him. At the park. Alone and cold and scared.

"Hey, kiddo, are you alright?"

The boy did not look up at the officer. He was not a snitch. "I'm fine."

"What's your name?"

The officer looked nice enough. Normal. "Harry."

"Well, Harry, you're really lucky, you know that? Real lucky that the explosion didn't get you." The man's eyes were bright, probing, and a cool wind whipped Harry's hair around his face. The police officer hooted in surprise. "You'd think it was winter and not summer, with a chill like this!" Harry hunched forward, stiff with worry. "Where're your parents, kid?"

The boy didn't look up. "Dead. I live with my aunt, uncle and cousin."

"Oh. Do you know their number?"

Harry only shrugged, tuning out the rest, but he did catch a bit of what the adults around him were saying. 'Gas leak', they kept saying, that it was a gas leak that made the bathroom he had been hiding in to explode.

A new officer stepped in front of him. "Hey, kid, c'mon. We're going to bring you down to the station."

Harry did not want to go down to the station, but he was a good boy. He was well-mannered, and he listened to adults, so he followed, ignoring the officer's questions.

He knew what had happened, but he wasn't going to tell them. He was already going to be in so much trouble when he got home, he didn't have to get in trouble with the police too. Besides, it wasn't Harry's fault, not really. It was cold, and dark, and he had no food, and a strange man tried to hurt him.

The darkness did not like that. It did not like that at all.

"I didn't tell anyone, I swear!" The boy quickly found himself sprawled out on the ground, sporting a huge, red welt on his cheek. The boy looked up at his uncle, with his red face and rage, standing over him.

"Then how did they figure out? Are you suggesting that my son was the one who snitched?" His anger was so strong, it was making his mustache quiver. Not a good sign for the boy, no, not at all.

"No, no! I wouldn't, I promise!" He knew his promises meant nothing to the man standing in front of him, and he was right. The next fist he was ready for.

The second beating he had ever received in his life could only be blamed on his freakishness, and it was definitely one to remember.

His uncle was furious this time, absolutely furious, and the cruel glint in his eyes was disconcerting. "You didn't get rid of it. You didn't get rid of it, and now they're expecting you to go to their freak school. And we had to give you a room, and a bed, even though you did nothing to deserve them. Was this your plan all along?"

The boy only shook his head. "I don't know why it didn't work," He said, voice clipped and brief, keen on keeping this conversation as short as possible before it could escalate more than it already had.

Of course, his uncle would find a reason to be furious with him no matter what he did. "Are you saying that we didn't do enough? We tried to make you get rid of it, didn't we?" His rage was almost palpable.

The boy nodded quickly in anxiety, having not anticipated this reaction. "You did! It's my fault, I-I didn't try hard enough." He flinched, anticipating the blow. And his uncle delivered, a painful punch to the side of his head. The boy fell to his knees, stars clouding his vision painfully.

"You're right. It is your fault." His uncle walked over to the fireplace, and the boy heard the sound of metal hitting metal as the man picked up his weapon of choice.

The boy trembled. "I'm sorry, Uncle."

His uncle only sneered. "Then fix it."

"Yes, Uncle," The boy murmured, lying down on his stomach, closing his eyes, and waiting. He didn't have to wait long. His uncle was very angry, and eager to start.

Metal met flesh and the boy screamed. He thought for sure that he was going to die with every blow his uncle dealt. The pain was almost too much, and the boy couldn't stop his screaming.

And the resentment that had gone dormant for so many years, came back, hand in hand with the ever-growing darkness. The boy pushed both away after only a moment of hesitation.

Hagrid was telling him so many things, but all he could focus on was his aunt and uncle standing behind the giant man. They were furious, and his cousin was kneeling over his cake, stuffing it down his gob. Not that the boy really cared. He hadn't even had cake before, so it wasn't like he could be upset that he didn't get to eat it. How did you miss something that you never had? Or, if you had had it, that you didn't remember?

"Yer parents were killed by You-Know-Who. A dark wizard. They were heroes, fightin' against the Death Eaters an' were true fighters fer the Light. They died fer the cause."

The boy looked up then. "I know."

The giant man looked confused. "You know? Yer aunt an' uncle told yeh?"

Well, they didn't tell him that, exactly. They said that his parents died because they were freaks and made stupid decisions that got themselves killed. Not exactly like dying in a fight against a dark wizard, but the boy thought both stories were pretty much talking about the same thing.

They were everywhere. Freaks. Like him. All around him and the darkness was not a fan. Not at all.

But he knew what it was like to hurt, and even though his aunt and uncle did it for a good reason, the boy wasn't too keen on hurting others.

Even if they were freaks. But he was too, so he couldn't really judge, could he?

"The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter," The man told him, again, after another wand was tested and put away. Harry was growing impatient, and he wasn't listening anymore, too overwhelmed by the feeling in that store. That feeling coursed through him, lighting his blood on fire, and rattling the darkness inside of him, like a monster inside a cage, just itching to be let out. Besides, why would he need a wand? He was getting rid of it anyways, just like he had promised.

But the wand-maker would not be appeased, and finally Harry sighed, reaching out a hand in time to catch a wand that had escaped its box and was flying towards him. Mr. Ollivander broke off mid-sentence when the room was overwhelmed with a bright, white light, Harry at the center of it.

"Interesting, very interesting. Do you know why, Mr. Potter?"

He did not, and frankly, he didn't care. He had found his wand, and now he was getting out of that God-awful store.

"I hope yeh like her, Harry. I figured it'd be nice for yeh to have a way to stay connected with yer folks when yer at school."

Harry was not planning on keeping contact at all, but he didn't tell the giant that. "Thank you, Hagrid, she's beautiful." And she was. He just had to figure out how to keep her safe.

"O' course, Harry. Happy birthday. I'm sorry abou' the cake."

Harry only shrugged.

"You know what that freak said. You're back here in the summer," His uncle snarled. The boy had no choice but to meet his uncle's eyes, what with his chin being held in the man's painful grip, and he looked up at the man with tired, resigned eyes. "You know what will happen if you snitch, right?"

He did indeed. All too well. "Yes, Uncle."

The rotund – yet surprisingly strong – man let the boy's chin go, before shoving him into the cupboard. "To remind you exactly what will happen to you."

The boy curled in on himself, the click of the lock an all too familiar sound.

And the accompanying darkness and resentment was just as familiar.

It was pretty dark, I know, but I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Thanks for reading!