(A/N) Okay in case you recognize the title yes this is not originally my story. This story and it's general ideas belong to Leonineus. I asked his permission to continue his story when he posted that he was no longer going to do it himself. He allowed me to continue his work. Now as for my notes, these are important. I decided to rewrite his story to my writing style. His major ideas are still going to be incorporated don't you worry about that. I just didn't want the readers to be overwhelmed by the drastic writing style change between chapters. Now for the legal disclaimers. -ahem- One, I do not own Harry Potter in any way shape or form, J. does. She is a talented artist and all credit goes to her. Two, this is a not for profit story, it is not to be distributed for any gain whatsoever, monetary or otherwise. Three, I am not forcing you to read this, if you do not like it don't read it. Now that that is out of the way I can say what's on my mind. As with Leonineus' I do not discriminate against anyone's sex, sexual preference, religion, heritage, or creed. Whatever you do is your own business and I don't care. In fact I empower people to be different. I hope you find my rewrite to your liking Leonineus and readers. Enjoy.
Harry was a bright and timid boy. He never acted out and never hurt anyone. He did his studies and got good grades in school. He was your average boy when compared to the next boy. Nothing about him stood out of the ordinary. He had wild black hair, startlingly green eyes, and a small stature and physique. He wore hand-me-down clothes from his cousin, which were always a little too large for him. He wore a pair of glasses that were broken and taped on the bridge. The only unusual part of him was a unique scar on his forehead. His bangs usually covered up this scar but occasionally one would catch a glimpse of it. The scar, always dominant on Harry's forehead, edged downward like a lightning bolt. It started at his hairline and ended right above his right eyebrow. Aside from this, Harry was as normal as can be.
Harry lived with his aunt, uncle, and their son. The three of them were also as normal as can be, when in public. Harry's aunt, Petunia Dursley, was a very tall woman. To Harry she most resembled a horse. Her neck had elongated over the years of craning her head over her fence to spy on the neighbors. She had neck length curly brown hair that she took thirty minutes to brush every morning. She was always humming a song to herself when she was working in the garden. Always saying hello to the neighbors when they walked by, but muttering insults under her breath when the walked away. She was your typical suburban homemaker.
Harry's uncle, Vernon Dursley, was a short and plump man. Harry thought he looked like a giant blueberry. Vernon worked at a local construction tools dealer. He went to work at eight in the morning and was home before the five o'clock news. He was constantly reading the paper or watching the news. He was always complaining about some new law or some protest group. He had short brown hair and a thick brown mustache. He was also always getting angry whenever his favorite soccer team lost. Whenever he got mad, his face turned purple making him look more like a blueberry than usual. Harry would always quietly laugh to himself whenever his uncle got angry.
The last member of Harry's family was his cousin, Dudley Dursley. Dudley was on a fast track to looking exactly like his father. Harry assumed he did not have much left to go in the weight department. Dudley was either in his room playing video games or out hanging with his friends tormenting children younger than him. Harry never liked Dudley's gang so he would normally avoid them. Dudley was the favorite out of the two of them. Dudley always got the best presents, the most during meals, and the best room in the house. Harry got the short end of every stick he drew. Dudley's life was a breeze. He had no hardships, having everything handed to him on a silver platter.
Harry was the black sheep of this family. Harry's surname was Potter and he came to live with his aunt, uncle, and cousin when his parents died when he was a baby. According to Petunia and Vernon, Harry's parents, Lilly and James Potter died in a car crash. The car crash was how Harry received his scar. Harry had no reason to doubt this story so he accepted it. Now some might see the Dursleys with their son Dudley and think them loving parents. There is no doubt they are loving parents, oh no, but they are the worst relatives Harry has every laid eyes on.
Harry's relatives forced him to live in a small cupboard under the stairs in the Dursley house. Harry could never leave his so-called room. He was forced to do all the chores and cooking in the house. In all sense and purpose, Harry Potter was the Dursley's slave. His aunt and uncle never let him eat more than a slice of toast or a wedge of cheese. He did not even have enough room to sleep. At night, Harry would always sneak out to grab more food. Harry could only ever leave the house in order to do the shopping for the Dursleys. Petunia told the shopkeeper of the store to never to let him out of his sight. If the shopkeeper caught Harry trying to steal anything, he had permission to beat Harry to within an inch of his life. The shopkeeper was an old friend of Vernon so it was no use pleading with him.
Dudley and his friends had a great game that they used to play. Dudley would get anything he wanted so if he asked his parents if Harry could play with them outside then Harry had to obey. Once outside, Dudley gave Harry a five-second head start before they proceeded to chase him. Harry was scrawny and small but he was damn near impossible to catch. On the off chance that they caught him, it was only because he was cornered. Once cornered, the gang proceeded to beat the living daylights out of young Harry Potter. Harry could do nothing but taking the beating because if he resisted then he would receive a worse beating from Dudley's parents. Harry's life was miserable and was not getting better anytime soon.
Harry would always wish of a life better than the one he had currently. Whenever he was in school, he would stay late to read books in the library. Whenever asked what he was doing he would say that he was too stupid in school and needed to stay after to get help in his subjects. Harry was lucky that his aunt and uncle were no smarter than the common housefly. Harry was smarter than many of the children in his class or in higher classes. He was always getting the highest grade without the need to study. Harry would read fantasy books about knights and dragons whenever he was in the library. He did this until his tenth birthday. After he turned ten, his interest in books changed from knights and dragons to witches and wizards. He would often dream of leaving his house and learning magic. He wanted this so much that he often had vivid dreams when he was asleep of soaring through the skies on a broom.
Harry was miserable yes, but he was surviving, until one day when everything made a drastic turn for the worse. Harry had snuck out of his cupboard one night in the middle of winter. He was freezing and wanted to see if the fireplace didn't go out yet. When he entered the living room, he found the logs still dieing down from last night's fire. Harry extended his hands towards the fire and tried to rub some warmth into them. The fire was dieing quicker than Harry had hoped and he was actually getting colder. Harry wished that the fire were going full blast. He was almost at his breaking point. He couldn't take it anymore. He shut his eyes and started to let all the anger he had towards his aunt, uncle, and cousin out at once. Suddenly the fireplace sprang to life and there was a roaring flame.
Harry couldn't believe his eyes. Harry would every rarely do something that he couldn't explain but this was the first time that it actually helped him out. Harry was delighted that the fire was going once more. He sat closer to it and let the fire bathe him in its warm embrace. Harry shut his eyes and sat there for a few minutes. He didn't want to move from this spot. He opened them when he felt something burn his cheek. He saw that a small ember broke off a log and landed on his cheek. That was when Harry started to worry. He saw embers flying all over the living room. The fire was growing out of control. Soon some embers lit random pieces of furniture on fire.
Harry cried out fire while going for a small washtub in the kitchen. He filled it with water and, just as Vernon came crashing down the stairs he threw the water onto the fire in the living room. Vernon looked from the scorched furniture to Harry, and immediately thought the worst.
"You did this didn't you boy?" Harry panicked and froze. "Answer me boy!"
Harry didn't know what to do. He knew what was coming but he just couldn't move. Time seemed to slow down for Harry. He could see his uncle's face get blue with anger. Petunia came down the stairs with Dudley in her arms. Harry could see that things were turning against his favor quickly. His legs were like lead and he just couldn't move.
"Run!" Harry didn't know where this voice came from but he obeyed it without hesitation. He quickly ducked when Vernon made a grab for his collar. He jumped behind the scorched couch when Vernon started to throw things at him. He took a chance and peeked above the couch. He saw the three of them advancing on his left. He dodged right and jumped over the coffee table. Once he saw a path of escape, he took it. He headed for the door and his heart sank when he remembered that they locked the door at night. He would have to waste precious seconds that he didn't have to unlock and open the door. He braced himself for the inevitable beating that would follow his capture, but something strange happened. The front door exploded into a shower of wood shrapnel. Harry couldn't believe his luck, another unexplainable thing occurred but he didn't stop to investigate. He jumped through the now open doorway and out into the snow covered streets.
"If I ever see you back here boy I will personally oversee your execution!" Harry didn't stop to turn and see who had said this but he didn't care. He was finally free and he was never going to go back to his old life.
It was when Harry reached the end of Private Drive that he realized the severity of his situation. He had just run away from his only home. He had no friends to stay with and no money to his name. He was only wearing a thin long sleeved shirt and a pair of pants; he wasn't even wearing a pair of socks or shoes. He ran until he couldn't run anymore then he walked until he couldn't walk anymore. He found a small tattered blanket in a nearby waste bin and nicked it. He hid inside of a small playground house for the rest of the night. He didn't get much sleep.
The next morning he had two options. Hope that his aunt and uncle wouldn't kill him if he returned home or continue walking in a random direction and hope for the better. He instantly chose the latter and continued down the road. He walked for what seemed like hours in the freezing snow. Twice he slipped and fell causing his clothes to tear. His feet blistered and froze from constant abuse. He was nearing the end of his ropes when he found a small overpass. He decided to hide under that for the night. The small blanket was almost useless in the cold weather he was in now. Once under the overpass he huddled against himself as much as he could to block out the cold. He hoped beyond hope that something would change and he would get out of this mess.
"Fire, you need to make a fire."
There was that voice again. Harry assumed it was his subconscious mind guiding him. He looked around for anything to burn but all he found was a pile of damp newspapers. With nothing to dry them or even light them on fire with that was out of the question. He turned around to look for anything else, when he felt something warm on his back. He did a quick one eighty and saw that the pile of newspapers was on fire. He quickly moved over to them and felt the rich warmth spread over his body. He placed his feet near the fire to thaw them out for fear of hypothermia. That night Harry actually got an hour or two of sleep. When the sun reared its head over the horizon Harry decided it was time to move out once more.
He looked longingly one last time at the burning newspapers wishing that he could take the fire with him. He shut his eyes and turned to leave. Once down the road the fire on the newspapers mysteriously vanished leaving behind a damp and unburned pile of newspapers. Harry never saw this as he shielded his face against the blowing wind. Harry spent the following week walking from alley to alley, overpass to overpass, empty building to empty building. He was beginning to lose all hope of getting out of this latest mess. He was walking down the middle of the road when he tripped and fell face first into a pile of snow. Harry picked himself up off the road, and dusted the snow off his clothes when he heard a screeching sound behind him. He turned to see a car's headlights an inch in front of his face.
"Oh my god I'm so sorry I didn't see you there are you okay?" A young woman probably in her mid to late twenties stepped out of her car. "Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?"
Harry looked up at her and started to back away slowly from the car. The woman held out a hand to help Harry onto his feet. Harry jumped back and held his hands in front of his face. "Relax I'm not going to hurt you." Harry slowly looked back at the woman. He saw a kind smile on her face as she once again extended a helping hand. Harry hesitantly took her hand. The woman helped Harry onto his feet and gave him a once over. Satisfied that Harry wasn't hurt too badly, she breathed a sigh of relief.
"Why are you outside with so little clothes on? Aren't your parents worried where you are? Where do you live, I'll take you back there."
"NO!" Harry started to panic. He didn't want to go back to those people ever again. He saw the shocked and confused look in the woman's eyes. "I m-mean, no I d-don't have any p-p-parents."
"I'm so sorry, do you have any friends that I can bring you to or a shelter that you live in?"
The voice popped into Harry's mind once more. He had yet to find a reason not to trust this voice. "L-London, I have f-friends in London."
"London? That's only twenty minutes from here. Get in my car and I'll drive you there." The woman stepped over to the passenger side door and opened it. Harry walked slowly over and climbed into the seat. Once settled in the woman closed the door and walked to the driver side door. Once both occupants were in and buckled up, she started down the road.
Harry was glad to be in a warm place for once. The woman had turned on the car's heater to full blast. Harry sat in silence for most of the car ride until they came to London. When asked where in London, Harry tried hard to think where he needed to go.
"Charring Cross Road, you'll have friends there."
"Charring Cross Road?" Harry didn't know part of London. He didn't understand why the voice was telling him to go to London. The woman on the other hand seemed to know exactly where she was going. A couple of blocks later Harry was stepping out of the car. After Harry's reassurance that his friends were nearby, the woman drove off.
Harry turned around and saw the buildings that flanked the road. He had no clue where he was or where he needed to go. Harry stood there in the cold for a few minutes before he noticed a small building. The sign above the door read 'The Leaky Cauldron' but no one seemed to be paying attention to it. If Harry hadn't been absentmindedly staring at that building he probably wouldn't noticed it either. He walked across the street and towards the building. People stared at him all the way; until he was right next to the building then it seemed as if he wasn't there. People passed mere inches in front of him but didn't even turn to apologize if they bumped into him. Harry turned towards the door and tried the handle, when it turned he pushed open the door. He wanted to walk inside but the cold and his exhaustion finally took hold and he fell to the floor. The barman quickly ran over to Harry and turned him over.
"I can't believe my eyes. It can't be. Harry Potter?"
Harry was barely conscious when he reached up and the barman took his hand. "Help me, please." Harry's hand fell through the barman's and onto the floor.
(A/N): Okay Harry just had a very difficult first day. I know most of the story is description, but where would we be if we didn't know things? If you liked it leave a good review. If you didn't like it, let me know and maybe I'll incorporate your ideas into the story. I am not above humility. I will try and update this story every week on Wednesday but there might be times when I simply can't do an update that week. I have work and a life. I only write in my free time. I have twenty stories that I randomly work on. (This one will take priority over most). Now before I bore you all to death with my side of the story I'll let you get on with yours. Have a good one and I'll see you next week.