Disclaimer: Despite my wishes that Harry Potter was mine... I cannot legally claim anything. In this instance I am borrowing characters but using what I hope is completely my own plot line as I would rather not mess up any of the true future books. By the way I won't be insulting anybodies intelligence here... I am just going to assume that you have read all five books otherwise there will be spoilers.

Harry Potter and the Denial of Bloodlines

Chapter 1: Voldemort is not going to be the one to kill Harry Potter...

The drive home from King's Cross Station was terribly unusual coming from Harry's point of view of his "family", they neither mentioned what had just transpired nor did they berate him for who he was. The ride was blissfully and at the same time agonizingly silent for Harry Potter.

Normally Harry would relish not hearing the opinions of his family but after what happened to him recently it left him drowning in a sea of guilt. The pain he felt was consuming him. For the first time in his life, Harry wished with all his heart that his Uncle Vernon had drown him when he arrived on his doorstep those fourteen years ago.

Arriving in the driveway, after a stony drive back to Privet Drive, Harry quickly gathered his trunk and Hedwig's cage and followed his relatives into the house in silence. Nothing could have prepared Harry for the site he received upon entering his childhood residence. The first thing he noticed was the state of disrepair in an otherwise compulsively clean home. As the minutes wore on it became clear exactly who was responsible for the mess. Uncle Vernon quickly and forcibly pulled Harry over to the kitchen table and pulled out a pen and a sheet of paper and instructed Harry to write twenty-one letters (enough to last for the entire summer) to the "freaks". Harry stayed perfectly silent as his uncle proceeded to dictate to him.

"Dear Everyone... write that to everyone who needs to know, I don't want them know-it-all criminals coming to my house this summer. You will not be going back to them." Uncle Vernon commanded him. At this point Harry knew that he was in big trouble. 'What is he going to do to me? I can't fight him, I will try of course but I can't use magic now!' Uncle Vernon cleared his throat interrupting his thoughts "Yes, as I was saying ... Dear Everyone, I am fine. My aunt and uncle send their regards. I really need to be alone right now. Just sign it Harry. It won't due to have them think you really love them, nobody could ever love you back. Boy now you will copy that and put them all on the desk. Then we will decide what to do with you." As Uncle Vernon finished his speech, Aunt Petunia bellowed in her shrill voice for "the boy" to set the table. She then proceeded to hand him three plates, silverware, and goblets. When Harry looked at her again she just snipped about him believing he was good enough to eat with those who had not been a burden all their lives.

Up until this point Harry had not said a single word to his "relations" as he had taken to calling them. All the while through this berating he chose to continue to believe that he deserved this treatment. This was his punishment for murder, being a "worthless ungrateful boy who doesn't deserve to live", and an all around unloved child. Now he was curious... "May I go to my room now then?" As he waited for a reply he noticed the smug and sadistic look in his uncle's eye... he knew he was in trouble.

"Room?! You think I would supply you with living conditions that would suit decent people! You are not decent you are less that the worth of a mutt. You will sleep back in your cupboard. You will do chores there is a list already in your room. If they are not completed every day to my satisfaction, you will NOT eat, and you will stay awake until the job is finished." Vernon sneered the words he so viciously spat out of his mouth. Harry couldn't help thinking exactly how much he wished he could be with anyone even Snape right now instead of in Surrey. He quickly squashed that thought as he beheld another 'I deserve every pain and ache I get from them... I killed them all. I deserve to be dead.'

When Harry did not respond to the rant shot at him from Vernon, he quickly found himself being held by his neck to the wall struggling for breath. The pressure from Vernon's massive knuckles was overwhelming. With the lack of oxygen and lack of wand, Harry didn't stand a chance. The last thoughts he remembered thinking before the blackness overtook him was 'maybe they will let me see Sirius, if he forgive me that is. I hope I can be with him at least.'


Slowly Harry edged back into consciousness about seven hours later. First he tested his eyes only to find that his glasses were broken and his right eye swollen shut. Apparently his uncle had beaten him after he passed out. Testing out his limbs left his mind screaming at him for even attempting movement. He could not move his left arm and was reminded painfully of the break he had received during his second year. Even his lungs shouted their protests. Harry could tell just by looking at his own chest that several of his ribs were broken.

Without any light in the room he could only smell the strong metallic scent of blood mingled in the dusty air of his tiny cupboard. He had a bitter feeling that the "Boy-who-lived" should have been able to stand up to his uncle and not suffer so cruel a fate as to being beaten into unconsciousness. The only thought he could bring forth at this particular moment was that he had work to do and could not be sleeping. He already realized exactly what dreams would bring and vowed that he would never sleep again if it meant that he would never have to see that horrid scene play before his eyes again and again.

The days went on like this for three weeks... being revived long enough to make breakfast; send Hegwig off with a prewritten letter every three days; cleaning and repairing the house; not eating; and being beaten into black night each and every night. When he recovered each morning he inspected his new bruises and went over to himself the reasons why he deserved this fate. Then quickly denied himself actual rest and sleep only to begin on his chores that he knew would be waiting.

Harry was now painfully thin, with bruising covering nearly ninety percent of his body yet he never protested, cried out, or fought back. He only tried to do what was asked of him in hopes of being spared another beating. Locked in his cupboard he could imagine exactly what his "friends" would do when he returned.

He imagined them rejecting him, telling him that if they risked their lives for him they would only suffer and die like everyone else. Even in the time he was awake, Harry would envision Sirius falling through the veil, and then come back out to tell Harry that it was all his fault. He could hear the ringing in his ears "You did this to me, I never should have loved you. What a fool I have been." With that last memory, Harry slipped silently into black night, his tortured body slack on the cold hard floor of his cupboard.