Ten-year-old Harry Potter sat in his room, well it wasn't really a room; it was more of a cupboard under the stairs. Ever since he arrived, he's had a miserable existence at Number Four Privet Drive. He only had three changes of clothes, one blanket (the one he arrived on the doorstep in), and his outdated, wire-rim glasses that have been broken time and time again. He was small for his age, had a mop of black hair that was impossible to tame, seemed to be the weakest child in his primary school, and had a jagged scar that traveled from above his left eyebrow, across his nose and onto his right cheek. The scar wasn't at all fascinating and looked as if it had been made by a rather large knife.

It was dinner time in Number Four, which meant that Harry was to stay in his cupboard until the family finished eating. Only after that would he be able to eat an old apple, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and a glass of tap water. He didn't mind, at least he got to eat most days. The only time they took away his food was when he got in trouble, and he was glad that wasn't often. On the rare occasion, Dudley would blame something on him and he'd get no food for a week. But sometimes there would be the odd incident that seemed to only happen in emergencies and when he was angry, sad, or embarrassed. That was when he'd go for weeks in his cupboard without food.

Those weren't the worst times of Harry Potter's miserable existence. He had horrible things happen to him. Not the normal childhood crushing things, but real horrors. He remembered the night his parents had been murdered. He couldn't see it, but he could hear it, hear them begging for his life, begging for each other's life. That's how Harry could tell his parents loved him and each other. His dad had begged the most for both their lives. It sounded as if James Potter was being tortured by his wife's screams more than anything else. The dreams were just icing on the cake, though. His real hell was the beatings. His uncle was ruthless; he didn't need a reason. Less than a toe out of line, and the belt was brought out. He had scars all over his back and more than a few burns on his arms from the stove eye from when he had burned dinner and needed to be taught a lesson. This treatment had caused him to want to end his life. He had tried many times only to be thwarted by an unseen force. After the third time, he had given up. He had just floated harmlessly to the ground.

Harry was more mature than most children. He was cautious and that led to him not trusting many people. He was a watcher. He watched people and figured out their next move. He shielded himself from emotions and seemed to forget he had any. He was intelligent, cunning, and calculated everything. He found out one day at school that he was an excellent chess player because of these traits. He closed himself off and rarely showed what he was really thinking. He knew when he was being used and seemed to manipulate that or call the person out. He never got a childhood, he knew he never would.

Harry was fiddling with the corner of the old blue blanket that he possessed and thinking of nothing in particular when his cupboard door was opened. He crawled out before he was scolded and stood waiting for his orders. "Clean the kitchen, boy, and you just might eat tonight!" the voice of his Aunt Petunia screeched.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," he said clearly. He had learned not to mumble because of the potential beatings he could receive. He hurried to the kitchen and busied himself with the dishes. He worked as quickly as possible because he was hungry. He worked carefully too so he could actually eat the food he wanted. He hurried about sighing whenever his stomach rumbled; he was so hungry! He finished cleaning the kitchen and stood in the door way as he usually did. His aunt walked into the room and inspected every inch of the kitchen but found nothing so he was given his usual meal. He ate it as quickly as possible, cleaned the dish, and went back to his cupboard.

That night, he wished, like he always did, that somehow he would get taken away from this place and this horrid life he led. He was just a child, and he's been through more than most grow ups have ever thought about. He knew wishing never worked, but he couldn't help it. For some reason, he just couldn't stop believing in magic. That night he went to sleep with the thought of magic and escape floating around in his head.

Harry woke to a banging on his cupboard door and pieces of plaster falling into his hair. He quickly jumped up and made his way into the kitchen where his aunt and uncle were sitting. He started on frying the sausages and bacon, while simultaneously cracking a few eggs into a bowl. He went through the familiar chore without really acknowledging the fact that he had done it. He set two plates filled with food on the table, one for his uncle the other for Dudley, his cousin, and began to fill another plate for his aunt.

"Boy!" his uncle barked sounding and looking like a rather large walrus.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon?" Harry asked immediately. It was a reflex: answer or get a beating.

"You'll be going with us to the zoo but only because Miss Figg broke her leg," Vernon grunted. "None of your freakish nonsense or you'll wish you'd never been born, you understand?" He pinned Harry with a beady-eyed glare.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry said. He had no choice really. He didn't want a beating but sometime today he was going to get one anyway. It was Dudley's birthday and that meant that he was going to blame something on Harry. He could be the perfect angel all he wanted but the beating was inevitable. Harry didn't care; this happened whenever Dudley was in the mood. If Dudley knew what the pain felt like then maybe he wouldn't wish these beatings on Harry.

Hours later Harry was following his relatives around the zoo minding his own business. He wasn't bored nor was he interested in being someplace that was more pleasant than his cupboard. His favorite exhibit had been the jaguars, and he had made sure that his 'caregivers' hadn't seen that. He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment as he say Dudley and his friend Peirce jumping excitedly while pointing at the penguins. He stood back watching the rest of the families surrounding the cage. He spotted a rather bushy-haired little girl, looking somewhat bored and rolling her eyes at a man who seemed to be her father. He watched as she said something that made her father smile and laugh, while she tried to keep a stern expression on her face. After a while she gave up and smiled too. Harry wondered what his parents would be like if they were still alive, and if they would act like this little girl and her father.

He was called back to reality with a harsh call from his uncle, calling the attention of the bushy-haired girl. Harry followed his uncle into the reptile house and was unaware that the little girl and her father were following at her insistence.

"Come on you ruddy thing! Move!" Dudley called to the snake, which obviously was too lazy or sleeping to heed the birthday boy's call.

Harry rolled his eyes and waited for his cousin to move before siding up to the glass. "You look a bit lonely… I know what that feels like…" Harry muttered more to himself than anyone else. He wasn't watching the snake, which had raised its head to stare at the boy; he was looking at the little girl and her dad again. "They never give you a moment's peace and they lock you up in a tiny room…" he didn't realize that he was talking at all. "You've got no one. No Family, no one to care…" he glanced at the snake and saw it watching him. "You just want out, don't you?" At the snake's nod Harry chuckled. "I wish I could help, but I'm just a kid…"

"Dad, dad, look it's moving!" Dudley pushed him to the side and the back of Harry's head hit the floor as he landed. He was disoriented for a moment before sitting up and glaring at Dudley. Before he could say anything, the glass of the cage disappeared, causing Dudley, who was leaning on it quite heavily, to fall into the enclosure.

The snake slithered out and away from the fat boy and paused next to Harry. "Thanksssss, kid, look me up iffff you vissssit Brassssssil," he hissed and slithered away from the scrawny boy without waiting for a response. Harry looked up to see his uncle glaring holes into his body and sighed before just lying back on the ground in defeat.

A shadow came over his body and he looked up to see the bushy-haired girl standing there looking at him with a worried expression. "Are you alright?" she asked. Harry noticed that her voice was soft and filled with worry.

"Yeah," Harry replied. "I'm alright." He added a silent for now at the end of that statement. He was in for it when he got back to Number Four.

"Then why are you just lying there?" she asked. Her voice was still laced with worry.

Harry was going to make up a lie but for a reason unknown to him he said, "Because I'm in big trouble for what I just did."

The girl looked at him like he was crazy. "What did you do?" she asked.

Harry looked at her for a moment then decided to tell her. "That," he pointed at Dudley banging on the glass of the enclosure. "I know it's not possible, really," he sighed, "but things like this always happen around me."

She was about to say something else when his uncle came up to them and hauled Harry to his feet. "I've had it up to here, boy!" he spat, positioning a hand over his head to demonstrate the level of whatever he had, had up to that point. "Go! To the car! Now!" he growled, splattering Harry's glasses with spittle.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry said clearly and turned on the spot to exit the reptile house. He was walking away but stopped as he realized he forgot to say goodbye to the girl. He turned again, saw his uncle glaring at him with a passion, and said to the girl, "Bye, thanks, though."

"For what?" she asked as her father came to stand behind her.

Harry looked at her for a moment, wondering why he was doing this. He wouldn't usually talk to strangers so openly, or care if he thanked someone for caring, but this girl… she was different; he could feel it. "For asking," he said. He turned again and made his way out of the zoo. He would probably never see that girl again. He found himself standing outside the car for thirty minutes until his relatives and Peirce got back to the car.

The ride home was silent. Harry knew he was in trouble but didn't particularly care. He would get whipped when they got to Number Four, and he would be put into his cupboard for a week with no food. It was expected. It was brutal. It was Harry's life at Number Four. The car stopped and Harry sighed. He wouldn't say he wasn't scared because he was, but he wasn't going to let them see that. His uncle would beat him senseless. Maybe he would pass out before the beating was over; he considered himself lucky whenever that happened. He got out of the car and without being told stood in the hallway in front of his cupboard.

He stood there, waiting for the belt to hit him. No matter what he did to prepare himself, he was never ready for the first strike. It hurt like hell, but Harry just hissed in pain. There was no way he'd cry out in front of his tormentor. He was surprised to find that instead of the leather strap of the belt, he was being hit by the buckle. At the fourth strike, Harry couldn't hold back a yelp.

"How…many times… do I have to… tell you… to keep… your… FREAKISHNESS TO YOURSELF!" Vernon managed between strikes. There was always a comment about him being a freak, but Harry wasn't listening. He was trying to block out the pain. He wasn't succeeding, and it was getting harder and harder to stay conscious. In the end, he just let go, giving into the sweet oblivion.

Harry woke in pain. It was also the last thing he remembered. Fitting. He sat up in his cupboard, glad he was small for his age. He'd probably get terribly cramped by the time he was thirteen. He sighed as he realized he was awake hours before everyone else. He was only let out twice a day when he was being punished. Great…

For the last week he had been starved, beaten, and holed up in a cramped, dark space. He was used to it but that didn't make it easier. He was going to be let out today. Something was going to happen today. Harry was ready for it. After a week trapped in his cupboard, he was filled with energy. He was up earlier than usual which was strange, but for some reason he was excited. A few hours of waiting and Harry was let out by his aunt. She ordered him to make breakfast as usual. So he did. As usual. He rolled up his sleeves so they wouldn't catch on fire, and sighed at the burns scarred into his arms. He waited for something to happen, but was disappointed that the morning was as dull as usual.

"Get the mail, Boy!" his uncle ordered.

Harry stood and walked to the door. There was a pile of mail on the floor; on top was a letter addressed to him. It said:

Mr. H. Potter

The Cupboard Under the Stairs

Number Four Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

He wondered who knew so much about him. Surely, he wasn't being spied on… But he was just ten years old, how would he know. He stuffed the letter into his shirt, and walked into the kitchen when his uncle shouted for him impatiently. He was put into his cupboard and took the moment of privacy to open the letter. He flipped the letter over to open it and noticed the wax seal. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry… Was this a joke? For some reason it didn't feel like a joke. Harry sighed and opened it. The letter read:

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand. Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

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 September 1. We await your letter by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Out of curiosity, he looked at the other page which detailed the supplies. He was surprised at what he found there.

UNIFORM

First year students will require:

Three sets of work robes (black)

One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Samander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR cat OR toad

These can be obtained in London through Diagon Alley (1)

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

Harry blinked. He was confused. Where was he supposed to get this? How was he supposed to get there? More importantly, how did he owl them? What did that even mean? Harry decided to take this one step at a time. Get somewhere to buy these things. He'd worry about money later. He got out of his cupboard and walked into the sitting room.

"What are you doing in here, boy?" his uncle growled.

Harry took a deep breath. "I got a letter from Hogwarts. I'm going, and I need you to take me to London," he said.

His uncle's eyes almost bulged out of their sockets and his face turned a deathly purple. Harry knew that look. It was the "I'll-beat-you-into-next-week" look. "What did you say?"

"I'm going to Hogwarts, and I need a ride to London," Harry said. He wouldn't back down. He'd go; he'd get away from this horrible place. It's what he was waiting for his whole life. He'd live on the streets if he had to. "You can either give me bus money or drop me off in the morning on your way to work, but I'm leaving. I'll never come back."

Vernon and Petunia seemed to stop and consider this for a moment. Vernon suddenly said, "I'll drop you off, but if you ever come back I'll kill you myself!"

"I don't plan to," was all Harry said before going back into his cupboard. He was leaving, he was really leaving!

Author's note: I hope you like it! Please tell me what you thought and I'll continue it. if you lot hate it then well… bah!

1: That line was added for the purpose of getting Harry out of there. Everything else is from the book verbatim.