Enchanter

Chapter 1

In a world where witchcraft and wizardry doesn't exist, fear and denial always subsist.

This was at least very true for our young hero, Harry James Potter. The Boy Who Lived against He Who Must Not Be Named. He who would one day save the whole wizarding world.

But of course our young Harry Potter didn't knew any of that. The little boy had no time to be dreaming about goblins, magic, unicorns or trolls. For he, had other things to worry about.

"WAKE UP! STUPID COUSIN. WE'RE GOING TO THE PARK TODAY."

An overweight stout boy yelled with his young screechy voice as he jumped up and down the stairs over the cupboard where young Harry James slept. Potter groaned from his cousin Dudley's piercing screams, yearning to stay on the old beaten mattress his Aunt Petunia gave him as a bed that provided him little comfort.

'Guess it's better than sleeping on the cold floor.'

The boy thought limping away from his poor excuse of a bed to start his morning chores. Step out of your cupboard. You get hit. Speak without being address to. Hit. Refuse to eat the leftovers. Hit. Try to escape. Hit. Harry didn't wish to give another reason for his Uncle Vernon to subject him to another round of punishment.

At a young age of five, Harry had gained the vital knowledge of how to survive in the rough environment he lived in. It was clear to him that never should he ever defy the Dursley, his guardian family.

Ever since the night the boy had been dumped at their doorsteps, they have always shown their animosity towards little him who couldn't have been anymore older than their own two year old son. Yet, Harry never understood why.

If he was disliked so much, why didn't they just threw him out into foster care? Then, his Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia probably wouldn't have to trouble themselves everyday with the great nuisance left by the boy's good for nothing parents as they prefer to call him.

A nuisance.

Harry was used to the frequents threats of Mr. Dursely to throw him into foster care, every time he was deemed 'insolent' in his uncle's eyes. If given the choice, the young boy would have very much gladly chosen that over them. Surely, the orphanage would probably be better than living a life as a servant for his heartless relatives.

Potter sighed as he slowly walked out of his tiny room, the empty cupboard which Mrs. Dursley never got to use because of him, the nuissance of a child left to her by her dearest beloved sister, the most beautiful and talented in their parents' eyes. That had been ome of the reason why Petunia resented the boy. Harry got up to get all the letters & mails, and newspaper for his Uncle Vernon-

"But, Mummy, my friends and I want to play with Harry!"

Dudley screeched once again starting his childish tantrum. It was an awful habit that immensely developed along with his colossal weight from two very doting parents overly spoiling their treasured son. Potter gulped hearing his cousin's request. He entered the kitchen where Mr. and Mrs. Dursley drank their morning tea.

Play was Dudley and his friends' word for let's all go bully my cousin for fun, that usually entails another round of Hunting Harry, a game where Dudley and his friends chase him around throwing whatever objects they could find in the park. Whilst, he runs and tries to hide like a staggering prey.

Not a very creative game if you ask him. Harry always manages to outrun and escape those bunch of overweight prats. But Harry was in no shape fir Hunting Harry in his present condition at the moment. His ankle was sprained from last night's beatings when Vernon caught poor little Harry sneaking a loaf of bread from the kitchen.