Disclaimer: I am not affiliated in any way with the Harry Potter franchise nor the great author, J.K Rowling! This story was just created for fun, not to impersonate the lovely author herself.

Chapter 1: The Dursleys

For his entire life, Harry knew he was not just some boy from Surrey.

His earliest memories were that of feeling unwanted by the Dursleys, and everyday, he was constantly reminded of how the same 'supposed' caretakers really felt about him. His uncle and aunt especially favored calling him 'worthless freak,' while his cousin would bully him unrelentlessly. Harry tried not to stand out to the Dursleys and even tried his hardest to be the perfect little boy that the Dursleys had said they always wanted, but strange and unexplainable things always happened to him.

When Harry went to St. Grogory, he remembered trying to tell his teacher that his cousin and his friends were ganging up on him, and that he was tired of just saying nothing about it. But she wouldn't believe him, saying that he was "always the one causing trouble in the classroom." Ever since, she held a grudge for him like everyone else did, because she thought of him as a "liar who always fabricated tattle-tales." One day in class, when she picked on him for an answer, like so many times before, he mumbled and fidgeted out a guess because he could not read the board. She started to scream at him for his inability to read the answer from the board, and he reacted. Or at least he thought he did. He remembered how insignificant he felt at that moment, and the next-his teacher was swearing, but not about him. Her hair had suddenly changed into a bright shade of aquamarine, and she shrieked in surprise while his classmates burst out in laughter. She barked at him to go down to the Headmistress and he begrudgingly went down the hallway, closing the classroom door right behind him. He went into the office with disgust towards himself, and was ordered to sit down on a creaky wooden chair next to the Headmistress while she was writing a venomous letter addressed to the Dursleys. He lowered his head down in shame and he was frustrated with how the events before led him into that situation. It was his fault somehow.

The Dursleys were not amused when they heard of what happened after receiving a very angry note from the Headmistress. Just like the countless of other times where the unexplainable happened to Harry, he ended up in the little cupboard under the stairs while his uncle, Vernon Dursley, usually was the one who locked the tiny scratched door while threatening to starve the boy for several days. The last thing Harry usually saw, were the eyes of disgust, and then it was just him and the darkness. Even just by thinking about it, he got many shudders envisioning the plump and overtowering man throw him in the cupboard as if he was some expendable toy, and he learned that no matter how hard he tried, he would get punishment for matters out of his control.

If it was not his uncle who gave out the punishments, then it was his aunt, Petunia Dursley, who screeched at Harry for his mistakes. It was very common to hear Petunia's voice when the poor boy made a cooking mistake or did not clean to her likeness. If he slipped up, then he expected to dodge a frying pan. This pan was held by a blonde horse-faced woman who had the highest shrill that he ever heard. It was no mystery that the Dursleys had a strong hate for him, but he didn't know how he wronged them. He felt trapped with unloving caretakers that felt pleasure from his suffering. Harry always did try to avoid angering the Dursleys the best he could, but his best wasn't good enough for them: especially when he did something better than Dudley Dursley, his one and only cousin.

So, it was during a hot summer day when Petunia sent the boy outside in order for the entire backyard to be completely eradicated of weeds. There was no school but there was still plenty of work for Harry to do. If even one weed was found, Harry knew he wouldn't get supper. While Harry was weeding, he noticed kids on the street through the cracks of the moss-dotted fence. They were playing the normal sort of games found in Little Whinging; Harry felt the desire to join them and forget the Dursleys. There was a time when he just did that, and he learned to never do it again. Harry remembered slipping past a wide-enough spot in the fence to join those kids, but when he came up to them, they gathered together and started to holler "Freak!" and "Monster!" Not to mention, when he came back, Petunia saw that the garden was not attended to, and in result, he was punished ruthlessly by his big Uncle. Content with not experiencing the incident again, Harry went back to weeding out the garden as usual, sighing as the sun struck against the back of his neck and how increasingly parched he was becoming. However, as much as he was the outcast of Little Whinging and in the Dursley household, Harry did the best he could to keep his head high. Everyone was cruel and out to get to him. It was normal and he could only accept his circumstance in life, but they would never take away his spirit.

Harry always dreamed of running away. This time, however, he had a plan— it was a crude plan indeed, but he didn't know much about how the world worked besides the fact that everyone was cruel to him and he wanted to rid the feeling of shame. It would be only a couple of more days when Harry would have enough meager supplies to make his daring escape. Harry didn't know if he would actually walk away or leave for long, but it gave him some small hope. All he knew was that everyone loved his cousin or feared his cousin enough to stay out of his way, and everyone thought the opposite of himself.

Harry was almost finished weeding, so he routinely as usual gone through the daring plan in his head: he would continue to keep up his nonchalant facade, because while his relatives weren't looking, he would slowly snatch food from the kitchen or raid the bathroom. As long as he didn't give away a whiff of uncertainty, the Dursleys would never think of what Harry was planning to do. However, there was one thing he forgot to account for, and that was Dudley. While he was gathering up all the weeds for a big pile at the corner of the backyard, a shadow started to grow bigger and was headed towards his own. That had to be his cousin, of course. What did he want now? He stopped weeding to turn around but his aggressor stopped him. Harry was thrown into the dirt and he groaned in pain. His cousin ate freely as his father, taking a plump appearance due to snatching the extra meals that Harry never got to eat. Harry felt another explosion of pain and he couldn't get back up. As of now, the 'beach-ball' cousin, strangely out of the blue, decided to treat Harry as a punching bag.

"Argh!"

"Time for some Harry-punching!" Harry could feel Dudley smile before another punch hit him in the gut.

Harry wheezed, what was he going to do? Why suddenly did his cousin come up to him like that? He continued to get pummeled into the dirt while using his forearms to measly block Dudley's throttles.

"Dudley, stop it!" Harry let out a clamor. Dudley tackled him and he was trying to squirm away from Dudley as quickly as possible.

He could give away his advantage by commencing to fight back, but that would end up with him getting locked in the cupboard, and in result, prolonging his stay at the Dursleys. However, also by doing nothing, he wouldn't be able to move by the end and Dudley would blame Harry for something anyways. As much as Harry disliked his narrow options, he threw a punch back at the junior Dudley in defense, and then from then on, it was a contest of who could pull out the most punches in a short time.

The scene must have been loud enough because there was a high-pitch yowl in the house, and that could have come from no other than Aunt Petunia. She stomped into the backyard and narrowed her eyes at the scene.

"You little freak! Get away from my Dudley-kins!" she screeched.

It was a mess of Harry proceeding to get off of Dudley while Petunia was desperately trying to end the fight. In the aftermath, Harry had his glasses broken, bruised arms, and a bloody nose, showing proof of the beating from Dudley's meaty fists while Aunt Petunia was clutching her son.

"Dudley-kins, Harry won't hurt you anymore. I promise you that," Mrs. Dursley cooed to Dudley.

Harry frowned. He thought to himself: what did she mean that he was not to threaten Dudley in the future?

"Get in the house now," she spat while Harry limped into the house.

Then, she threw Harry into the old cupboard and locked him in there. He heard Dudley holler again about how much pain he was in. It was "all of Harry's fault!" They went away from Harry's cupboard and he heard no more. Harry huddled onto his bed wincing in the darkness.

Harry imagined Mr. and Mrs. Dursley telling him the next day not to worry about making breakfast, but only for him to succumb to the rat poison in his food, and then he envisioned the two— and maybe Dudley stuffing him in their small vehicle, driving to a very secluded place. The last he imagined was that of the smirks and cackling of the Dursleys— but that was cut short when he was shaken by the thundering footsteps and roars of Mr. Dursley.

Through the thin cracks of the staircase roof, he heard his uncle coming down the stairs while shouting many nonsensical things. However, there was a clear message in the mess.

"I'm going to make that boy pay!" Mr. Dursley unlocked and opened the cupboard door. There again, was his raging purple-face and Harry at that second was worried that he was going to get a beating.

"We're going! Pack your bag for a long trip!" He roared at Harry, but left him unscathed this time, only by slamming the cupboard door really hard.

He took his hand and searched blindly for an object on the floorboards somewhere near in the tight space. Harry picked up a broken shard of glass and peered into it to assess the damage Dudley did to him. His reflection was lacking in clarity since the glass was so close to his face and because his glasses were broken, however, what he could make out was a broken nose and cut lip, but otherwise, he looked like his usual self: a scrawny little boy with unruly raven hair, a pale complexion, and very bright green eyes. Harry never knew where he got his eyes from, but he always imagined his parents having green eyes just like him. With the little meager supplies he built up from his earlier thievery in a pile behind his bed, Harry left the cupboard with a ragged backpack and proceeded to meet his irate family members. Uncle Vernon looked to have almost worn his patience to nothing, and he quickly snatched Harry and dragged him into the car. Then, with very cold and angry blue eyes, the uncle looked straight into Harry's green.

"I'm warning you boy, if you ever come back here, you'll get what's coming for you. I'll make sure of it."

Harry was frightened and wondered where he was to go, but he could only reply with a voice so small, it could have been mistaken for a whisper.

"Yes sir," Harry gulped.

His uncle either did not hear Harry or did not bother to answer. Later, Dudley and Aunt Petunia got into the car as well, and tried to sit as far from Harry as possible— not to be contaminated by his freakishness. Harry dared to ask with more clarity in his voice. However, the fabricated confidence left his voice some time ago because a wispy voice came out instead.

"Uncle Vernon, if I may ask, where are we going?"

"You freak will see soon."

It had been an hour since the Dursleys and Harry entered the car and drove off from Four Privet Drive. Whatever the destination was, it was not in Little Whinging and also not even in Surrey.

Throughout the car trip, the Dursleys were very silent and it made Harry Potter very nervous. A million questions were wracking through his brain, such as: Where were they going? What punishment would they bestow upon him?

The boy knew that he was fearful of his fate, and he silently tapped away his foot in agony. Harry assumed that his aunt and uncle were going to revoke their guardianship, but this situation especially unnerved him because he did not listen closely enough to the conversation the Dursleys were having when he was in the cupboard for the last time.

Harry perfectly understood that his uncle and aunt were going to leave him, but still, he had no idea what was their plan. In his mind, Harry played a thought in his head, on loop and unable to think about anything else: 'If only he had more time to prepare before the Dursleys, lack for a better word, dumped him somewhere.' Whenever Harry attempted to ask questions or break the silence, the Dursleys gave him a sneer and their countenances shut Harry up before the words even came out.

Were they going to yell at him? The Dursleys as normal as they tried to be, were definitely not behaving as such in the small car. Even Dudley was immersed in some console, but for some strange reason, never made comments. Whatever it was, Harry knew that he was in big trouble.

"I think this place is good, dear." Petunia Dursley spoke in a light tone, but her face gave away malice. This was definitely not good.

After trying to get the Dursleys to speak, Harry became more confused when his aunt spoke vaguely; instead of helping him, it fed into his wild imagination and made him far more confused than he was before. Vernon Dursley was grinning very widely and it scared Harry, for it was the only kind of smile that showed Harry was to receive whatever repercussion for his 'actions'.

The landscape itself changed from the mundane Little Whinging suburban view, to a rural area dotted with farms, and then eventually switched back to a degraded throng of urban slums and industrial parks. In an empty parking lot, Vernon Dursley pulled up the car and parked. The Dursleys turned all their eyes at Harry Potter.

"Boy, this is where we say goodbye," smiled Vernon Dursley dangerously.

In a few short and measly seconds, Uncle Vernon became more menacing and it felt as if he was growing taller while Harry ever shorter.

Dudley leered at the scene in front of him. He was likely thinking of a conversation to brag to his friends about: how he said 'Goodbye' to Harry Potter, the cousin who was notoriously also known as 'Freak'. Dudley let out his verbal excitement, which constituted along the lines of, "Bye Potter." Dudley sneered at Harry's last name as if it was some repulsive thing.

"If I ever find you in Privet Drive, I'll have your head! Do not dare mention our names ever again, understand me boy? It ends here, and I don't want to see your face again. Take your stuff and go!" His blue eyes burned into Harry, and this time, Harry Potter was thrown a punch in the head.

"Yes, sir." Harry scrambled to get his words out of his mouth. Instinctively, he threw his hand up to where Vernon hit him. It stung.

Harry dashed to get all of his meager belongings and 'brave' the urban slums. This entire day was all complete bollocks and Harry did a small pinch to make sure this was not some great nightmare. Ow. Yes, he was still awake and the Dursleys seemed to have lost it because Harry defended himself earlier that day from a loony Dudley. Harry had all of his belongings in a ragged backpack, the same pack nicked before in Dudley's second bedroom when he was planning an escape. However, Harry was only fantasizing about leaving. Like in the situation he was in right now, he would've thought in the end: 'Where will I go?'

"The Freak is gone!" Aunt Petunia cackled.

The car doors closed and the car pulled out of the old parking lot. Then the wheels turned for Surrey, distancing itself between Harry, farther, and farther away.

Harry looked around while standing in the old abandoned parking lot with true fear in his eyes, while also figuring out how he would survive in the new landscape. He was only ten, about to be eleven in a month, and yet, he had to survive in the urban landscape without a home and no one watching for his well-being. Where in all of the bloody hell was he?

Harry felt the first tear fall out of his eyes. No, he thought. He would not cry but instead figure this out. He always did. Treading lightly and stifling his eyes from spewing tears, he wandered in the alleyways looking for a place to cozy up for the night. The sun was already setting and he had little time to settle in some spot. He walked through old abandoned sections of some kind of city or town. If only his Uncle could have the slightest courtesy to name the city or town he was in…

The green-eyed boy found a secluded spot in some alleyway. Finding an old cardboard box, Harry constructed a makeshift bed the best he could, filled with his blanket and ragged hand-me-downs from Dudley. Looking through his pack, he picked up a bag of chips to be his dinner.

While eating, Harry was thinking— or rather trying to do so. Everything was spinning fast and was out of control. There were doubts and then moments of inspiration. But, he knew that keeping a calm head was the best decision for his survival.

He was ten. He was thrown into an environment where he had to be brave enough to go through such a harsh lifestyle. This meant that he had to trade away his childhood for the perseverance to live— not that the Dursleys did not chip away most of it. He would have to mature, and quick. That was Harry's rationalization. He didn't know the word for it, but he was handling the situation, barely, with a measly coping mechanism.

Why did the Dursleys do something as reckless as this when he could have just been dropped off at some orphanage? Maybe, about twenty pounds would have also not been so bad as well. Grasping more of the situation as best he could, Harry decided that he cannot live in an alleyway for long. If it got colder, he would freeze to death, and on the contrary, he would swelter in the blazing summer heat. There were new things he had to think of and there were ways to temporarily solve the problems at hand.

There was an option left for Harry to decide, and he thought it would be the best solutions to all his problems. Some orphanage. If Harry asked directions, and got a map of wherever in the blazes he was, he could find a way into the orphanage and get help. He thought, "at least they would give me food, water, and shelter." He finished his meal up and curled up into his makeshift shelter.

It was nightfall. The crickets started to sing and the moon felt like a companion to the abandoned Potter. Lights started to turn on and many people were strolling the streets. The abandoned slums were a lit with life once again as people came back from their responsibilities in the daytime. Night reigned and so did the people running amok feel free to do what they wanted. Music was played in the distance by late-night musicians. The bars were open for its eager customers and the smell of cigarette smoke was more stronger than ever.

Harry had a hard time falling asleep due to the busy sound of the urban area and of the lingering painful reminder of what had transpired earlier that day. However, Harry had nothing to do at this point but sleep. It was too dark to explore and Harry wasn't quite sure how the people would react if he went out at night like this.

He rolled himself quite cozy in his makeshift home hoping that the nightmares would not start again; those nightmares never left him alone. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept without terror.

Green light. Cold and shrilling laughter. Screams of a red-headed woman.

These vivid images recently bothered Harry's nightmares. For some odd inkling, Harry thought it had to do with his odd-shaped scar. It made no sense to him why, except that it was the way he felt. It just felt that way. Under better circumstances, it would've been nice if he was only worried about his current condition and unknown future, not also of his nightmares.

Harry did a routine to take off his glasses, only to remember that they were snapped earlier. The glasses did not help so much, as everything was all so blurry anyways. He left them behind in the cupboard and felt no guilt as the pair was too broken to be fixed. He curled more tightly in his den and felt the wash of fatigue catching up to him. The pain returned after the adrenaline wore off, but he was able to zone out.

Sleep overtook him.