Book 1: The Philosopher's Stone

Chapter 1

Nearly 10 years Harry had lived in that wretched place, 10 years of constant abuse while his perfect cousin was shown overwhelming amounts of love that Harry could only long for. The only comforting prsence Harry had were the spiders in his cupboard and that weird presence that always gave off emotions of hate and anger that Harry was no stranger to yet he still tried to calm it when he was alone trying to have one thing in his life that he could talk to even if it didn't talk back. Harry just knew that it understood him somehow and as much as he loved the little spiders that shared his cupboard they couldn't actually fully understand him, they were just bugs.

Harry was awake laying on the small mattress in his crowded cupboard he never really slept much but he was relaxing in his mindscape, one of the places where that being was. His mindscape was that of a small lovely Island in the middle of a lake that protected it from the dark forests of his mind, those forests were where he unconsciously abandoned his worst memories no daring to cross the waters to ever face the horrid things. But sometimes after a particularly bad day, he'd be thrown into his cupboard and stuck in his mindscape only on the other side running from the memories to scared to swim to safety in fear of drowning, he never did learn to swim and stuck there, sometimes he wanted to let himself sink into the water allowing him to just forget and float around where there was nothing... the thought was strangely comforting and he almost did it sometimes only to stop right when his toes were just at the edge, those were the only times the being looked at him.

The being was merely just a silhouette that sat there seeming to stare off into the forest it never moved but always gave of these emotions of rage and (though it would never admit it) the occasional shock of fear and loneliness. The being did not have a face it was a black blob in the shape of a man sitting with his knees pulled to his chest seemingly waiting for something the only times it did move was to look at Harry when he was so close to the beautiful embrace of the water. Harry didn't know why but he would always stop himself when it watched him and even if it terrified him he could never stop himself from sitting next to the creature and trying to comfort it with the few nice emotions he had to spare.

He was roughly pulled out of his mindscape when the ungodly sound of Aunt Petunia came through the door, "Wale up! Wake up now!" I frowned reaching for my glasses and left the closest thing I had to safety in this household. I kept my eyes lowered to the ground not making eye contact, they almost reminded me of wolves eye contact can be the worst only making them angrier and it was better to submit if you had any sense of self-preservation.

"Hurry up you pathetic brat, it's Dudley's birthday and you need to get cooking, none of it better be burnt." she gave me a smack on the back of my head which doubled as a shove towards the kitchen. I washed my hands in the sink quickly and rushed around the kitchen grabbing different ingredients as well as dragging a stool around the room with me, I was very short for my age as well as scrawny and while I could do some of the cooking without the stool it was a lot easier with it.

Harry didn't really like the way he looked his face, like the rest of him, was thin, he had knobbly knees, black hair, bright green eyes, and a thin lightning scar on his forehead. He wore round black glasses held together by scotch tape that was far too big, a brown shirt that was very large and seemed to cover his bu and sometimes slide down his shoulder and right underneath that were large baggy black shorts that reached his knees tied tightly by the drawstring the only thing that was really keeping it from falling right off and that was really all he wore, everything else being either disgustingly stained by Dudley, far to big t be considered close to decent, or had large holes torn into the fabric.

Harry was in the middle of frying some eggs when his uncle came in and yelled something about him needing to comb his hair scarring him causing Harry to skim is arm on the hot pan burning him a bit. Taking the pan off the stove as not to burn the eggs Harry set it down on the counter and rato the sink running the burn under water, the pain wasn't bad it distracted him from the yells of his Uncle which sometimes hurt, even more, the reminders of how pathetic and weak he was and how unloved was always seemed to hurt more than the beatings at times.