Chapter 1

At ten years old, Harry Potter hated his life. His mother loved him, but for some reason his father really hated him. He could never do anything right for his father, and felt his wrath via punishment when his mother was not there. In a way, he blamed her for not being there for him when he needed her the most. His father would beat him up and then force healing potions down his throat. Rather than mercy on his only son, it was merely a step to ensure that if he ever did tell there was no evidence.

In public, of course, they were the perfect family. No one ever stopped to look at just how skinny he was and how he avoided his father. They never looked into his eyes and saw the dullness and sadness lingering there.

Nine years ago, Harry had defeated the darkest wizard of the time. His parents had gone out, leaving him with Moony and his godfather, Padfoot. They had come back to a demolition sight, Remus and Sirius dead and little Harry next to the Dark Lord's remains. James had never been the same without his best friends. His two loyal friends had died for his son and Pettigrew had betrayed them. He had only ever had three friends: Sirius Remus and Peter. In a way, James blamed Harry for their deaths. Voldemort was only after Harry, after all, but Remus and Sirius had loved Harry as their own, choosing to die rather than see anything happen to the little boy.

The following year, James Potter began making his way to the top of the ministry, and soon became the Minister of Magic. He never had time for Lily anymore, who now went out and dated rather than face her shambles of a marriage. James knew, but didn't care; the only thing keeping their family together, supposedly, was Harry. When James was home, anything that happened to go wrong he was usually taking out on Harry as well as what had gone wrong in his life.

Little Harry spent most of his time reading and practising magic. Trying to win his fathers love, if anything it just made James all the more mad at him. So he had stopped showing his father what he could do.

Peter Pettigrew was a wanted man, he had never been seen since the night he had betrayed the Potters. And every dementor and Auror was looking for him. But they never seemed to succeed in finding him.

Today was an important event; Harry was dressed in his muggle clothes with his cloak wrapped around him like a shield. Today was the conference at the minister of magic. They had all brought friends and family to it to enjoy. So James had ended up brining Harry and Lily with him, who was going to be a judge at one of the events they were holding.

Harry just spent his morning sitting in a corner playing happy hero. Everyone wanted to shake his hand, they never left him alone. So he took a walk around the building. Going in between pillars playing with himself, He had never had a friend before and he didn't want one now. He knew they only liked him because he was the boy who lived. And he hated that, it totally pissed him of.

"Hey Harry are you alright?" asked Lily coming over. She looked beautiful as ever. Her flaming Red hair and green eyes which he had gotten from her, she didn't age at all, she seemed to stay the same age and same look.

"Fine" said Harry, but in reality he looked 100 percent bored. He hated occasions like this, pretending to be the happy boy. Only on the inside he felt like crying. He was slowly dying, he only wanted one friend someone to confide in. but it was not to be, he knew he would never find a friend that didn't want the boy who lived.

He loved a muggle song he had gotten for his Christmas, it was great. His mother had gotten him lots of muggle things including a personal CD player and CD's. He loved the song Family Portrait by pink. It suited him perfectly. 'in my family portrait we look pretty happy, lets go back to that we look pretty normal we try and pretend it comes naturally' and that's what he was and felt.

Always looking happy and cheerful pretending to be the happiest boy alive and loving his parents. But instead of Daddy don't leave he thought Mummy don't leave. He hated it when she did, because his father would then hurt him.

"Cheer up and have some fun son, you are always like this these days" said Lily shaking her head and giving him some gallons to get an ice cream.

Harry didn't say anything but on the inside he hurt more than ever. His own mother didn't understand him. And didn't see what was going on under her very nose. With a sigh he stuffed the money in his pocket he didn't eat ice cream they didn't have his favourite at the fair anyway. His favourite was peanut butter ice cream, it was great. Of course it was not a favourite everyone liked. But it had become popular after he was seen eating it! All wanting the same ice cream as the boy who lived.

He thanked the gods when the fair and conference was nearly over. If he had been more aware of his surrounding's he would have realised that someone was watching him. Not a friendly look but a cold hard glare in his stormy ice chipped blue eyes. There was also a pair of beady brown eyes watching too. They watched everything that happened with cold calculating gleams in there eyes. They were there for one purpose and one purpose only to kidnap Harry Potter.

Of course all of the death eaters thought Voldemort gone, and knew there was no point in tying to look for him. But they didn't object to doing what they used to do cause pain, torment and have what they call their idea of fun.

They waited for the moment to strike, and like a snake they did. Harry had been leaning against the wall wondering when the day was going to be over. That was the last thought he thought before he fell unconscious having not heard the word stupefy fall from the man's lips. He was portkey away from the scene with Peter Pettigrew and Lucius Malfoy to Malfoy Manor.

Harry was never aware that a silence spell was erected around the room he was dumped into. Never aware that they took his cloak and trainers, socks and jumper leaving him in a t-shirt and trousers before binding him to the bed, The bonds cutting into his wrists and legs as they bound him to the bed they had transfigured for him. The bonds bound both his arms together and his feet, the bounds felt like they were actually chains. So he could actually when he woke up move a little bit.