Harry Potter and the Unbeknownst Truth

Chapter One - Elliot

Summer was never an enjoyable time for Harry. It was safe to say that his relatives detested him just about as much as he detested them, maybe even more. It wasn't a fun arrangement for anyone involved. Harry remained out of their way, doing his best to keep out of the house, while they continued as if he didn't exist. They did such a good job in fact that they "forgot" Harry still had to eat. It wasn't that big of a deal, Harry had been dealing with it his whole life, he'd just sneak down during the night to get some food. He busied himself with trying to pick Hedwig's lock. He'd nicked one of Petunia's hairpins and had been trying for the past few days to use it to get Hedwig out of her cage. Then he could finally send his friends some letters while Hedwig would be able to stretch her wings. If she could get out to fly at night, she wouldn't be so restless during the day, which would make his Uncle Vernon less irritable which meant Harry would be less likely to get in trouble.

Though, Harry still wondered how he even had time to get on his relative's nerves with all the chores he had to do. He spent his morning's making breakfast and cleaning the house, while his afternoons were taken up with weeding the garden Petunia had planted a few years prior. He rarely had any time to dwell on the events at the end of last school year, except for in the evenings. Once he'd cleaned up from dinner, he was free from work and had time for himself. At first, he'd actually started doing his summer homework to distract himself, but after nights of having nothing better to do, his workload was now dangerously thin. He'd already read the books available to him in all those years where he was kept in the cupboard under the stairs, and he didn't feel like re-reading them. He just had to hold out for another few weeks, then he figured he'd be back at the burrow as he usually was for the last week or two of break. The thought calmed him.

It was all he really had to look forward to, the day he'd be able to leave this hell hole he'd been subject to just because they were his family. It didn't matter that they treated him like dirt, it didn't matter whatever they did to him, they were his family, and that meant they were the only people he could stay with. Harry thought it was beyond ridiculous. So, when his letter from the Weasleys came earlier than usual, Harry had eagerly read it. A huge grin spread on his face.

Harry,
We do hope you've been doing well these past two weeks with the Dursleys. Though, the last thing we want is for you to be stuck there for your birthday. We have been speaking with Dumbledore, and we've all come to an agreement. You'll be allowed to come stay with us for the summer. We'll be picking you up the day before your birthday.
With much love,
The Weasleys

Harry sent his reply back with Errol after giving the owl a bit of food. He let Hedwig out as well, having finally figured out how to pick the lock successfully. It went over very well the next morning when Harry told them he'd be leaving the next week. Harry didn't even care about how excited the Dursleys seemed to be at the thought of getting rid of him. Though, a rench was thrown in his plans.

It was the night of the twenty second, or early morning of the twenty-third when it happened. Harry thrashed around in his bed. There were flashes of green light, a pain that he could feel yet it was not strong enough to wake him. He saw faces, his mum, his dad, Dumbledore, Voldemort. They all flew past him. There were a bunch of flashes then the blurred face of a woman, Harry could only make out the pitch black color of her hair and the ocean blue of her eyes. It went chaos again, fire, rubble, spells flying everywhere. Then Harry saw Snape, holding a limp hand, it flashed again, and Harry saw himself, only he was a baby, and he didn't look like himself. The image was there for a split second before it morphed into what Harry actually looked like. There was another flash, a loud yell, and Harry awoke in a sweat.

The boy sat there for a long moment, catching his breath. When his heartbeat finally settled back down, he put his hand to his forehead, wiping his sweat and running it through his hair. That was the first thing he noticed. His hair was soft, softer than usual. Instead of being dense and thick, it was like silk running through his fingers. It was longer. It wasn't long, not like what he'd see on Mr. Malfoy or Snape, but his hair must've ended around his cheekbones. Harry almost groaned. Seriously, the things his hair did. Why was it always so unpredictable? He pulled it into his line of sight. It was definitely longer than before, but it was still jet-black. That was when he noticed his hand. His brows furrowed in confusion. His skin wasn't olive anymore. It was more on the fair side. He wasn't near as pale as the Malfoy's, but he definitely didn't look tan anymore. Harry blinked a few times, looking over his hands. They looked more delicate, less rough and calloused. Harry reached for his glasses, putting them on, but it was then that he had to quickly pull them away. Why were they hurting his eyes? He rubbed them before looking down again. It was then that Harry realized the third difference. He wasn't wearing his glasses, but his vision was perfect.