Well I don't know how it happened but my fingers just started typing this own their own. Anyways this fanfic is going to short and a bit different from my other fanfics. Hope you enjoy the first chapter. Let me know what you think by your reviews. Love you all.

The carriage arrived outside the gates and a thin, bespectacled fifteen-year-old boy with messy black locks and emerald green eyes, emerged from the cottage with three huge suitcases. The combined weight of the suitcases was more than what the boy weighed. He moved precariously towards the carriage and took every step with extreme caution. He breathed out a sigh of relief when he finally reached the carriage. The carriage driver got out of his seat and took the suitcases from the boy. He put them away and addressed the breathless boy,

"You work here, boy?"

The boy looked up at the driver and shook his head. A roar caused him to flinch and he ran back towards the cottage. His massive uncle stood in the dining room. At the sight of the boy, his tiny eyes were filled with rage and he roared,


The boy couldn't help but feel puzzled. What had he done now? His uncle grabbed him from the shirt front and shook him. The boy felt rattled but continued his attempts to remember what he could have done wrong. His uncle released him and threw him against the wall. The boy willed himself not to throw up and looked up at his uncle with puzzlement. His uncle grabbed a shirt from the table and waved it in front of Harry,

"Where should this be?"

Harry looked at the shirt and realization struck him like a lightning bolt. He spoke timidly,

"In your suitcase, Uncle Vernon."

His uncle threw the shirt on his face and the boy pulled it off and folded it carefully. His uncle's voice boomed out again,

"WHERE IS YOUR MIND AT? We feed you, give you a place to stay, give you clothes to cover your worthless body and WHAT DO YOU GIVE US IN RETURN?"

The boy bowed his head and listened silently. The food he was given were left overs. He slept in the shed and the clothes he was given to wear were hand me downs of his cousins. Sometimes he wondered that he was better off in an orphanage. He shook away the thoughts,

"I'm sorry, Uncle Vernon. It will not happen again."

His uncle was about to burst into another fit of anger but was distracted as his son and his wife entered the room. He turned to his son and gushed out,

"What would you like me to bring for you, Dudley?"

The boy looked at his massive cousin and felt envy almost bordering on jealousy. He wished that he had his own parents, that cared about him and his needs. He listened to his cousin demand a never-ending list of things, most of which, the boy knew that his cousin already owned.

He was forced out of his thoughts by his aunt's shrill voice,

"The dishes are not going to do themselves, boy."

The boy nodded his head silently and made his way to the sink. He looked at the large stack of dirty dishes that awaited him and got to work all the while listening to his uncle, talking affectionately to his son and wife.

The conversation ended and his uncle spat out an order to him,

"Take my briefcase to the carriage."

The boy hurriedly wiped his hands on the towel and picked up the briefcase from the dining table. He watched as his uncle kissed his wife and patted his son before stepping out the door. The boy followed his uncle out the door and got in the carriage. They boy placed the briefcase in the carriage carefully and spoke,

"Have a safe trip, Uncle."

His uncle looked at him and spoke,

"I don't want any complains about you upon my return, boy. Pay attention to your work."

The boy nodded his head quietly and stepped back from the carriage. He watched it as it drove away and felt relief course his body. Two weeks without his uncle were going to be pure bliss. He remembered the stack of dirty dishes that was waiting for him and hurried back inside the cottage.

Five hours later, the boy was reclining back on the cool grass and starring up at the starry sky. He loved this hour when his relatives were asleep and everything was serene and quiet. His gaze scanned the stars and wondered which ones represented his mom and dad. He liked to believe that they were looking down at him and watching over him.

But he also questioned his belief. If they were watching over him then why was he living in such a deplorable state? Why was his life so miserable? He was their son. They were supposed to care about him. Why had they left him all alone, at the mercy of people that didn't even want him? His being was nothing more than a servant in their eyes. He doubted that they even regarded him as a proper human being. He felt tears well up in his eyes and wiped them away before they could flow.

He had taught himself that he would not cry. He would endure whatever came his way. This would pass. He was hopeful that things would change. He rose to his feet and walked to the shed. He looked at his worn-out mattress on the floor and felt no desire to sleep. He lit an oil lamp and bent down to retrieve his books from under the loose floor board. He looked at them for a while and then hugged them close to his chest. These books were his most prized possessions. He sat down on the mattress, placed the oil lamp close to him and began reading.

After what seemed like hours, Harry closed the books, hid them under the floor boards and made his way back to the mattress. He laid down on it and pulled a thin blanket over himself. He smiled to himself. Someday, he would leave this place. Someday, he would have everything that he had always been denied.