Prologe

Ripping a long strip of cloth from his dingy blanket, Harry sighed. His uncle had a bad day at work and came home to release his frustrations on his innocent nephew. Harry winced as he slowly wrapped up his swollen forearm. What a pain. Literally.

After receiving the threat from the Order at the end of 4th year, Vernon had not been a happy man. To have those "Freaks dare to threaten him?!" (His words, not Harry's) was a blatant insult (in his mind) and it seemed that he deemed Harry perfect to receive the punishment for such a thing.

Just peachy.

It didn't help that Harry's pride got in the way of telling the Order what was happening, or even his friends. He didn't want them to think him weak for letting some muggles get the best of him when he clearly had magic on his side. Plus, he knew that some way or another, Malfoy would find out. That sneaky bastard. Oh how Harry hated him.

Flopping down on his squeaky bed, Harry sighed again. He wished September would hurry up and arrive. Thinking of which, he had some homework to do. Nah, he thought, it can wait 'till tomorrow.

With that though, Harry Potter fell asleep.