Review/Comments:

How I edited: mostly things I changed are in bold. I deleted some words, if I thought your sentence would sound better w/out them. Anything in brackets [ is just a suggestion to either add into the sentence, or replace what came just before

I like the intro, but I think that because the whole paragraph is him thinking about his situation, he can't he unconscious. Maybe start with something like 'Harry Potter sat huddled in his cubard, arm held close to his chest after yet another beating from his uncle.'

You could even start it 'Harry sat' or whatever- cause the point of view shift is strange. You might have to start it 'He sat' Are you posting in fan-fic sites? If you are, there is not need to introduce him. We all know who it is ;) If not- the point of view in the rest of the paragraph needs to be changed to third person.

…Wow, so I just finished with the last chapter. Wow. I have to admit that I am a lot more involved in the story when I am trying to edit.

I absolutely loved the last part!!! Harry getting beat is pretty standard in fan-fic (there is just so much potential from the books!) but you've done a really good job of making it your own.

I'm not sure if you would want him to have so many terrible injuries- I don't think he would still be conscience for one. Second, sometimes its just worse if one or two things are really hurt, because you feel them more. Maybe his ribs, and an arm/leg, and he can feel the 'bone deep' bruises from any thing else? Otherwise, awesome scene.

My magic saved me

Author:

DebsTheSnapeFanNow

Chapter 1

Harry Potter was currently lying unconscious in his cupboard, due to yet another beating from his uncle. He didn't understand why strange things happened around him, they just did. It was magic and he told his uncle so, but no matter how many times he claimed innocence, told his uncle that he hadn't done anything, he was never believed. He wasn't allowed to say the word magic anymore, not after he had yelled it at his uncle He knewthat saying it again would bring punishment. Harry remembered the one time after when he had said the word and shuddered. After that particular beating he had not said the 'M' word again. Not saying it didn't make him forget, though, and he still dreamed about it, read about it. He didn't want to think about what his uncle would do if he found out; he would be dead for sure.

When he was at school he spent most of his time in the library, reading teenage books from the young adult section. He had read all the children books already. It seemed he only needed to look at a page and he would remember it forever. This was why he was so good at reading, why he read so fast; he had even memorized the dictionary. The librarian had been skeptical at first, until she realized he was serious. She had made him say the words out loud and she was stunned when he recited the whole first page. She had told him he was gifted, and now let him do whatever he liked. There was an added advantage to being in the library his cousin didn't look for him here. In fact, his cousin didn't look for him any time there was a teacher around.

Harry noticed that Dudley tried to play innocent angel with the teachers. He always seemed beweildered when they didn't buy into it like his parents always did.

Harry managed to move (come around) later that night. He tried the cupard door, which, unsurprisingly, was locked. Anyone who would have seen him would have be surprised that he was not afraid of being locked in, but to Harry, this was his safe haven. He loved it in here. His uncle could not hurt him in here.

He cleaned his wounds, healed them and cried. He put his head down and tossed and turned for ages before he finally fell asleep. He was in far too much pain to sleep properly, but as he fell into a light doze his last thought was 'I feel like my back is on fire.'

The next thing he heard was his aunt Petunia yelling "Get up Boy! And make our Dudley's breakfast, before he wakes up you ungrateful whelp!" rapping at his door and unlocking it, waiting for her nephew to come out.

She was a malicious woman who liked to gossip and loved to spy on the neighbors.

One would wonder why she treated her nephew like she did. She was getting him back for all the hurt and pain she felt. Petunia had been the only sister of Lily Evans the 'special girl', loved by everyone, the beautiful girl. She had everything Petunia wanted a dream life, a lover and perfect child as well as the perfect looks. Yes, Harry was the perfect child she would have wanted, she could not deny it. She punished him for his mother's perfectness, and his as well. She knew Dudley was not perfect, he was a fat boy. No matter how little she fed him, Vernon would always give him more.

She had been tired of people coming into her home, looking at Harry all the time and not her child. So she had told them all horrible lies, about him being a horrible boy he lies' or 'steals' and beats other kids', and they bought it. She had quickly stopped buying him clothes and gave Dudley's second hand clothes to him. They all now just thought he was an ungrateful, horrid boy Of course the teachers didn't buy it, but knowing who Vernon Dursley was, they didn't do anything about it.

"Coming Aunt Petunia," came the Harry's small voice

He had not actully known his own name until he was at primary school. He found he liked his name; it was better than Boy or Freak He cherished it because his mother had given it to him. He looked like his father, had his black unruly hair. He knew this because Petunia screetched it at him when she attacted it with her clippers. He knew if she just left it alone, it would be smooth and flat. If anyone who actually knew his father though, and had seen him, they would have realized to he look far too much like James Potter for it to be normal.

Climbing on the stool he had to stop himself wobbling He would have to be careful not to get any grease on his aunt's spotless floor or he would know all about it. He cooked the bacon expertly, he had been cooking it for a while now as he had years of practice. Harry enjoyed it when his aunt was not hovering around him. The smell of the bacon brought back memories of the one time he had eaten it at nursery. It was one of the few good time he remembered. It was the only time he had been able to eat bacon; he had so loved the taste of that. He just wondered if he would ever taste it again, he knew if the Dursley's had anything to say about it the answer would be no.

All Harry wanted to do was make his parents proud. Yes, he knew his parents were dead but that didn't stop him from wanting to make them proud of him. Deep down he knew his mother had loved him and sometimes at night he heard shouts of 'take me not Harry, please take me kill me instead' then green lightning. That was something he didn't really understand.

He served his relatives their breakfast The plates were hot burning his hands and his stomach rumbled, but he didn't ask for anything. He was not allowed to eat anything, he had his lunch at school to look forward to. He just hoped he could eat it before his cousin got a hold of him. They were in the same class, so they had same lunch and it was hard to get away.

"Bring my coffee Boy!" yelled uncle Vernon.

A few minutes later the coffe was made and he handed it to his uncle. With a snear, his uncle knocked Harry's hand, causing him to spill the boiling hot coffee all down the front of his chest. Harry didn't move, or make a sound. He didn't move or make a sound. He knew it would make is "family" happy if he screamed in pain or started crying. He took the cup and filled it again. Vernon who was red-faced with anger at the lack of reaction, made it a point to dump the left-over breakfast in the garbage disposal.

But on the inside Harry was screaming in pain Being burnt was the worst feeling in the world. They took far too long to heal. He hated getting burnt. He would rather it be a beating than being burnt any day. He felt like crying from the injustice of it all.

'I'm going to be late if I don't hurry,' thought Harry to himself as he cleaned the kitchen and ran cold water over his burns which were now blistering, hissing as the cold water touched his skin, before sighing in relief when it cooled the sore skin down.

Dudley got a lift to school while Harry walked; most of the time running after his chores were done. He didn't like being late, he liked his teacher. He was sprinting when something happened he didn't intend. He sudden appeared, right into the cloak room Harry didn't think twice before running to the classroomthanking his lucky stars he wasn't late the bell had just rung. 'Thank gods I got here on time but how! How did I do that' was all he could think.

Shrugging his shoulders he set out to do his work. He always got A's but at home his good grades were always ignored while Dudley's C's or D's were all praised 'Here my clever dud kin's' or 'pumpkins' or his Aunt Marge's 'duddy-neffy-poopo' as she gave him twenty pound notes for his terrible work.

Not that Harry let the Dursley's see his report cards He forged his Aunt Petunia's signature, and thankfully no one had realized it was him. All his report cards were hidden in his cupboard as well as the money he had been saving up. He had a plan as soon as he was old enough, he was getting out of there and moving somewhere he could call his own. Far far away from the Dursley's so they wouldn't find him, accidental or otherwise. He had a lot of money, as well as gold. People stopping him in the street gave him gold silver or copper coins. He had kept them of course. Those people made him feel safe and welcome and funnily enough, they were dressed in cloaks like wizards, but it was ridiculous wasn't it? There were no such thing as wizards. He didn't want his uncle finding out about the coins and taking them from him. His uncle was a greedy man, and would take them without a second thought.

Today they practiced math, which he was great at! He was in the highest group in the class, that being the red group. His books were all nice and tidy; he was a neat writer, his teacher told him so. He was also learning spelling, which he too was good at again the highest in the class.

And at lunch he went to the library again. Harry liked the library, especially when his cousin started chasing him. He was sad that he could never take the books home in fear of Uncle Vernon destroying them, but Harry decided he was going to take the chance today after school. He was going to bring them back?

After reading and play time he went along to the library and found three books about wizards, taking longer than he would have liked. He was going to be in so much trouble when he got home. After checking out his books, he left the library. He went to the bathroom and tried to disappear, thinking about the garage. When he opened his eyes, 'wow' was all he could think. He had done it! He was so excited about being able to disappear and reappear where he wanted just like wizards!

He left the garage, heading into the house to start his chores, and make dinner. He had it all done before his uncle got home so they gave him more to do. He did them all, and by that time his muscles were sore all over, but he still had to do his cousin's room. Rolling his eyes he got to work. It was a pure mess. He closed his eyes; he felt angry right now, raging in fact.

'Can't he clean his own bloody room for once?' He felt air on his face and opened his eyes, mouth dropping in shock. He had made the room clean itself 'uh-oh…' He closed his eyes and shook his head opening them again. Then he fainted, landing on the floor in an exhausted heap.

Harry came round an hour later, to his aunt screeching that he better "Get those dishes cleaned!"

He picked up the money that was lying on the floor. There was about a tenner there he noticed absently. Rushing downstairs, Harry put it in the compartment. He did the dishes and got a few chips and ends of the fish they had left. He ate savoring the bits, but they had bones in them so he had to chuck it in the bucket. But he was not very hungry because he had been able to eat a whole lunch after putting it in a bag and eating it in the library.

He was shoved into the cupboard, but his bag with his things was still out there in the hall. Harry was scared his uncle would see them. If he did he would know all about the books, they didn't allow any form of the word magic in the house. Harry didn't understand why his uncle was so antimagic. It was just a dream for kids after all, what harm was there in letting them believe? No harm at all!

When he was sure his family was in bed, he wished with all his might to be in the kitchen, but it seemed to not want to work. With an unhappy sigh he slumped down, wishing to be out of the cupboard to get his books. And it worked! Jumping out of his skin when he heard a 'click' coming from his door, thinking he had imagined the sound until he touched the door and it swung open.

He ran from the cupboard quietly as he could, not want to alert his family. He got his bag and was about to enter his cupboard when he saw the fridge. The growling in his stomach becoming more than he could take, he crept over and opened it, taking all the food he could grabbing what he could, being carefull not to take too much, so his aunt wouldnt realize. He went into his cupboard and began eating the feast that lay before him. And enjoy it he did the juice was great something he had never had, he drank the yogurts down and ate the after eights that had been in the fridge. He ate the oranges which were cool, and the crisps he had grabbed on his way to his cupboard and savored the ham that was juicy.

He ate all of it, and then started reading The Vampire Chronicles. Getting tired, he put his books Putting his books in the compartment, he lay down on his mattress and fell asleep, slipping into some unpleasant dreams. A man shouting "take Harry and run!" A door breaking down and a woman begging for her son's life… maniacal laughing… green light she lay not moving on the ground. The man went for the baby and the green went for him, it hit him on the head, and bounced back and as an inhuman screech filled the air…

Then his aunt started rapping on his door, and his cousin started stamping down the stairs. Harry shook a spider out of his shoe then put it on. He didn't mind them much, he was so used to them. Harry knew it was wrong to treat children like they treated him but he knew he would never tell anyone.

He could not deny that he had tried and his uncle had paid them off to keep quiet. Then that person had moved. Harry never told anyone again. For that he got a big beating… 2 broken ribs and they left him in his cupboard for 2 weeks without food. His ribs healed themselves in time and the bruises faded. The Dursley's told everyone he had anorexia and everyone fell for it.

He made breakfast after getting bruised ribs from his cousin, and from his aunt when she shoved the frying pan in his stomach. After they finished he cleaned the kitchen Harry looked at his aunt; he wanted to know about his mom and he hadn't believed what she had told him before.

"Aunt Petunia how did my mom die? What did she look like?" asked Harry.

She looked as if she had just swallowed a live bug and a huge lemon.

"Uh-oh I've done it now," thought Harry and he was correct.

A few minutes later his uncle had punched him across the face. As Harry cried out he fell to the floor.

"What have I told you about not asking your freakish questions? We've told you before you ungrateful good for nothing freakish boy!" His uncle kept kicking him until Harry knew most of his ribs were broken along with at least one of his legs and arms. His shoulders were dislocated, and his body was a mess bloody and broken. Belt marks, welts, covered his back. Barely moving, Harry was in a world of pain.

Once his uncle Vernon was finished he dragged Harry by the hair, and threw him in his cupboard. He took out the light, saying "You don't deserve it you freak." before lumbering off.

Harry was scared, very scared. He hated the dark more than anything. He could usually handle it but today he just couldn't he could feel himself panicking, hyperventilating all he could hear was his uneven breathing. It was a mantra in his head, screaming "Let me out let me out let me out" but with every breathe it came out as a whisper.

Unaware of the magic that was gathering around him, the last thing he heard before he blacked out was glass shattering and screaming.