Chapter 1
Life is hard, life is confusing. Harry never understood why the Dursley hated him so much, why did they act so differently towards him? He's seen other kids being loved and adored by their parents, by their siblings, cousins, and aunts and uncles. So, why not him? Those and more are the questions that always filled him with pain, loneliness and longing.
He's eleven and in Hogwarts and things haven't changed. He thought that maybe Dumbledore would take pity on him and let him stay at Hogwarts. Of course not. Logically, he understands that can't happen. Not when other kids have to go home too. But they at least have a home to go, a family to miss. What does Harry have? Three people that couldn't care less about him, a house that's closer to a prison, and no friends.
"I'm afraid I have to decline, my boy. Hogwarts will be closed and every student has to go back to their home." Home. But he told him the Dursley hate him, that it isn't his home. The old man just looked at him with disappointment, leaving him feeling guilty. That is, until he saw his uncle treating poorly his only belongings, and the look of pure loathing in his eyes. For the first time in many years, Harry feared he wouldn't survive long enough to go back to his second year.
With a shiver running down his spine, the young wizard - yet again stuck in his new room without his belongings, except from Hedwig - took his glasses off and laid down on the old mattress, its rough texture hurting his skin. And in there he remained for two days before the Dursley decided that enough was enough, and promptly forced him to do his chores. In record time, I might add.
A slam echoed through the house, followed by silence. Petunia determinedly ignored what was transpiring in front of her, determined to immerse herself in the novel she was clutching in her pale hands. Dudley, on the other hand, watched his father's actions in both fear and fascination. He always admired his father's strength.
"What did I tell you!?" It was a rhetorical question, "To finish all your chores before the sun set. Does this look finished to you!?" the older man pointed his big finger at a piece of dirt on the floor. "Nor only you won't get any food today, you'll be in your room - in silence! - for a week!" The man ordered.
Just before young Harry could nod his head in understanding, he felt a big hot hand grab him by his head, a chunk of hair being pulled painfully from his scalp. And even before he could question what was going on, his head was slammed against the floor and right into the dirty spot. Black spots appeared in the raven's eyes, tears falling freely and unnoticed down his cheeks.
"Next. time. do. better! Did I make myself clear!?" Uncle Vernon exclaimed, punctuating every word with another blow until the kid lost consciousness, a moan escaping from his bruised lips. Sneering at the pathetic form of his nephew on the floor, blood pooling under him, Vernon turned to his wife and son. For a moment none of them said anything, then Dudley clapped at his dad, who grinned at them, feeling satisfied and proud of himself. "That will teach the freak."
Petunia wanted to point out that he could have killed the boy. That it would only bring problems to their family if those freaks ever find out. But then she remembered how the boy always healed no matter what they did to him. And so, she just shook her head and went back to her book.
Much later, when Harry woke up, he realised he was on the kitchen's floor. Why was he there? For how long? The pounding headache was making it very difficult for him to think clearly. Slowly, very painfully, the raven started to remember. The Dursley left him on the floor. They didn't even deign to take him into his room. Damn it.
Dropping his head to the ground, Harry laid there trying to control himself. He didn't want to cry. He didn't want to look weak, look pathetic like the Dursleys sure did. Harry was fed up. So, so tired. Maybe I should have accepted his offer... This thought was a recurring one but never did it sound so sure, so true. No guilt. Holding back his tears, Harry Potter cried out for anyone to help him. He wished as loud as he could in his head to have a home where he would be wanted, where he would be appreciated. Loved, maybe. He wanted to be safe. He needed to be safe. It was then when a strange pull took him out of his thoughts. With a gasp, the wizard opened his eyes and immediately closed them at the different colors swimming around him. Swirling, dripping. Disappearing. He suddenly found himself in a completely different place. And he was not alone.
"Back again, Harry Potter?"