Harry Potter and the Dark Soul

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I'll only do this once but I do not own Harry Potter. It belongs to its rightful owner. I only own the plot and my original character.

"Why is it so hard to find someone

Who cares about you?
When it's easy enough to find someone
Who looks down on you."

Someone Who Cares, Three Days Grace

It was the last week of August, and as usual in the summer, he was not allowed to leave his room from his uncle and aunt. They even barricaded the little window. The only time he was allowed to leave it was when he had to do whatever they ordered him to do. This could range from cooking Dinner or preparing breakfast and mowing the lawn to cleaning the entire house in less than a day. Even though he could wield magic, he wasn't allowed to use it so he was defenseless whenever his Uncle decided to punish him because his steak wasn't cooked the way it was supposed to be or whatever reason he came up with to hit him. Over the years he grew accustomed to it, that didn't mean that it didn't hurt any less that his only relatives treated him like trash.

He didn't know why but for the last two days they didn't ask that much from him and he didn't want to leave his room even if he could. The less he saw them, the better. So he had spend the past two days reading and preparing for the upcoming year, hoping that it would be a calmer year than his three previous years at Hogwarts.

While he was reading in his Defense Against The Dark Arts textbook he began to reminisce about all the events that happened in his life. There was the obvious event that still left tears in his eyes every time he thought about it, Especially now that he had a glimpse of what had really happened that fateful night, albeit with the help of a Dementor. He saw a glimpse of his Mother, protecting him, begging Voldemort to take her life instead of killing her son. Even if the Dementor had nearly sucked his soul out, he was grateful. He now knew that at the very least his parents had cared for him, had loved him. And see where that got them. He thought bitterly, tears threatening to roll down his cheeks. His concentration to study completely lost he decided to close his book and with a deep sigh laid down in his bed, if one could even call it that, and stared at the ceiling.

He always doubted if his parents had loved him at all. It was perhaps stupid to think this but the only knowledge he had before his third year is that Voldemort killed them. He had stayed up countless of nights wondering why they didn't just run away from it all, find a safe place so they could live as a family, instead of sacrificing themselves just to save his life. It seemed the logical solution to him. Perhaps he would've found us anyway. Harry argued with himself and even though he still had a lot of question he at least knew that someone had loved him deeply. He still had a lot of questions though and would pay anything to spend some time with them, even though if it was only a minute.

He sighed again, trying to clear his mind of the sad memories from his mind. Which brought him to the start of his first year at Hogwarts, meeting the Weaslys, rescuing Hermoine from the troll in the bathroom, The Philosopher's Stone and most importantly his very first fight with Voldemort. Accepting the fact that in the wizarding world he was pretty much a celebrity, The-Boy-Who-Lived. In this year he had noticed that a lot of students were talking behind his back, something they'll probably do for many years to come. And even though he had somewhat befriended Ron and Hermoine he couldn't shake the feeling of being lonely. He couldn't shake the feeling that the first people he had ever befriended only saw him as The-Boy-Who-Lived too. He often caught the jealousy in Ron's voice or the bossy attitude Hermoine liked to use. He knew that he closed himself of to the outside world, more than eleven years at the Dursley's will do that to someone, and making friends wasn't one of his forte. He was at least happy that he had some sort of friendship with the two of them, it was better than nothing. He just wished that he could find someone who understood him, someone who was just as lonely as him...