A/N: Okay, this is my first fic, so any and all reviews, be they flames of not, PLZ SEND!

Wizard: Iz ownz nothin' but plot & Rage.

Rage:Yep! ...Wait!

Wizard: (Laffs evilly, then poofs away in cloud of green smoke that smells like mint chocolate)

Rage: Cough-showoff-cough (Whistles innocently)




It was a dark and stormy night...Wait, wrong story. It was a mildly cloudy day, and a warm breeze made the leaves twirl on the ground. In a neighborhood where all the houses looked unbelievably the same, called Privet Drive, there lived a certain family. Oh, these were just ordinary people, with nothing interesting about them at all. There was the father, Vernon, who was a very large man with a bristly mustache, and hair an odd yellowish color, much like damp straw, and small pig-like brown eyes. Well, meeting him, you wouldn't be the first to liken him to a tusk-less walrus.

His wife, Petunia, was a tall, rake of a woman with dark blond hair pulled back in a severe bun. She had a neck much too long, horse-like teeth, and a permanent expression on her face that looked as if she had eaten a lemon, or smelled something particularly nasty. She, too, had small grayish eyes that she always looked at you over her nose with.

And finally, there was Dudley, their son. He was roughly the size of a baby whale, loud, obnoxious, a bully, and spoiled by parents who thought that their little 'Dudders' could do no wrong. He had his fathers damp straw hair, his mothers' scowl and eyes, and was almost eleven years old.

This family, the Dursley's, prided themselves of having the best manicured yard, and the most normal appearing family. But, there were skeletons in their closets that we shall delve upon and seek to bring to light. This is wear our story moves on, to the backyard...

Here we see a short boy who looks to be no more then nine years old, pulling weeds from the garden. He had a mop of wild black hair that stood up in every direction, and was disgustingly thin, so much so that we could count each of his ribs beneath his clothes, which were five sizes too big, having first belonged to Dudley. He also has lightly tanned skin, and, as he stood straight to look wistfully at the house, we see his gorgeous green eyes, that all but glow with their misery. But, most curious about this boy, was the angry red scar we spot upon his forehead. It looks intriguingly like a lightning bolt. This boy is Harry Potter, the Durselys ten-year-old orphaned nephew, and he was about to have the shock of his life...

Chapter One


Harry swiped at the sweat on his forehead in annoyance as dripped down, stinging his eyes. He sighed mournfully as he went back to weeding his Aunts' garden. His thought wondered to his family. If you could call them that. His uncle and cousin, or the Walrus and Whale as he liked to think of them, were horrible to him. They both treated him as a punching bag, though most often the Walrus would just stand in the background, chortling gleefully and cheering his son on.

His Aunt never really did anything but yell at him and make him cook. She didn't do anything to stop them though, instead choosing to spy on their neighbors and spoil the Whale. Harry hoped he had a heart attack. He and the Walrus both.

With a sigh, Harry sat back on his haunches and stared up at the sky for a moment, before bowing his head and screwing his eyes shut tight.

I want to go somewhere else, he wished. Somewhere I can start a new life. Where no one knows me, and where I can get away from these people. Suddenly, something hit him on the head. With a yelp, he grabbed his head and looked up. Sitting in the tree above him was a beautiful red and gold bird. Gaping in awe, Harry overbalanced and fell on his butt.

The bird trilled at him in amusement, before alighting onto the ground next to him, and picking up the object that had hit the boy on the head. Gingerly Harry reached out and took the odd thing from the beautiful bird. It was a bright green rock, with silver flames outlining it. The chain was a kind of metal Harry had never seen before.

He looked over the necklace, then glanced at the bird. It trilled at him again, the joy and amusement and love coming from it making the ten-year-old smile softly. He reached out and trailed his fingers gently through the majestic birds soft plumage, and looked into its' warm gold eyes, where an inner fire burned brightly.

"What should I do, lovely?" He asked softly, before sighing and looking back up at the sky. "I wish I was anywhere else in the world. Hell, any other world, even!" The bird trilled softly, before nudging its' beak against the medallion. Harry looked at it, then at the bird, bemused. "You want me to put it on?" The bird bobbed its' head, and trilled again, encouragingly. Harry sighed, relaxed, and nodded. "Alright, lovely, I'll do it." He slipped the cord silently over his head and let the metal fall to his chest with a soft thump.

A soon as that happened, the stone started to glow a bright green, and, with a gasp, Harry James Potter disappeared.