Hey! So, I know I have other things to update, but I was in the car, bored out of my brain, and this came to me. I hope you enjoy it! Reviews are always welcomed! Disclaimer: Totally JKR's, not mine.

Summary: AU- Lily and James survive the attack, but Dumbledore convinces them to place Harry with the Dursleys for protection until his eleventh birthday. Five years later, a starved and beaten Harry is rescued by his furious godmother, Suzanana Kalgarias. She takes him in, adopting him as her own in more ways than one. What will happen when Aries Kalgarias shows up at Hogwarts eleven years later with Beauxbatons for the Triwizard Tournament?

Warning: Dumbledore smashing and slight Lily/James smashing.

In the tiny cupboard of a nice house on 4 Privet Drive, a little boy sat shivering, cuts and bruises all over his body. This wasn't unusual for the boy, nor was he surprised by such treatment. You see, Harry Potter was used to this, used to shivering every night in a cupboard and being beaten by his uncle. To him, this was normal. He was the Freak after all. No one liked the Freak. The Freak didn't deserve nice things. The Freak was worthless.

Thunder rumbled outside, and Harry resisted the urge to jump. He couldn't make any noise. He'd just get in more trouble. Uncle Vernon would get out the belt. Harry didn't like the belt. It stung when it hit his arms and back. The belt was better than a punch though. Harry had had plenty of those too. He had lots of bruises.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia never let him out of the house. In fact, they liked to pretend he didn't exist. Dudley got to go out all the time, to lots of places. Harry didn't get to go anywhere. Harry was the Freak. He couldn't do anything right. Aunt Petunia had grudgingly sent him to school with Dudley, but she had forbade him to take off his jacket. If he took off his jacket, everyone would see the Freak's scars. The Freak had a lot of them. Nobody ever cared anyway.

Every night, when Harry was just about to fall asleep, he made a wish. He wished for a family of his own, one that loved him or at least liked him. He tried not to hope for too much. He hoped for a mother and a father and maybe even a sister. He didn't want a brother. Dudley was mean enough. He wanted a nice little house and maybe even his own room, a small clean space all his own. He wished for this every night, but it hadn't come true. Harry's only family was the Dursleys. His parents dumped him there as soon as they could according to his aunt. Nobody wanted the freak.

Until, one day on his sixth birthday, Harry was sitting in his cupboard reading a book he had stolen from a classroom. It was a wonderful story about a family that has adventures inside a wardrobe. He had to hide the book since his aunt would never let him have it in the house.

Suddenly, he heard someone knocking on the Dursley's door. Someone, presumably Aunt Petunia, went to answer it. She shrieked, and then there was silence. Harry strained his ears. Then he realized someone was unlocking his cupboard. He squeezed his eyes shut. It was probably Uncle Vernon back with the belt. "Harry," a light voice cooed. This wasn't his aunt or uncle or even his cousin. Nobody ever called him Harry. He opened his eyes. It was a pretty woman with wavy brown hair and tan skin. She had twinkling blue-green eyes. The light illuminating behind her made her look like an angel. She reached out to touch his arm, and he shrinked back. The pretty lady frowned.

"Who are you?" he croaked, his voice hoarse from a lack of food and water.

"I'm your godmother," the pretty lady explained. "My name is Suzanana, but you can call me Aunt Zana."

"I have a godmother?" Harry asked in disbelief.

Zana nodded. "Yep," she confirmed. "And I want you to come live with me."

Harry was shell-shocked. "You want me?" he stuttered. "You want the Freak?"

Zana frowned again. "You're not a freak, Harry," she explained gently. "You're a wonderful little boy. You deserve better than this."

Harry decided to ask a question that had been on his mind for a while. "Where are my parents?"

Zana's face darkened. "Your parents loved you a lot Harry, more than you will ever know, but they let themselves be manipulated by a cruel old man. He's the one who put you here."

"And you want me?" Harry repeated, wanting make sure this was real.

Zana nodded her head fiercely. "Of course I want you," she exclaimed. "You're my godson. I love you." Harry froze. He had never heard anyone say those words to him. "Will you come with me?"

Harry didn't even want to think about his answer. "Yes," he said automatically. He liked his Aunt Zana already. She was pretty and she loved him.

Zana smiled. "Good. Now let's go, Cub." She held out a hand to him, and he tentatively took it. Zana almost cried when she felt how cold it was but resisted. Harry hesitated for a moment, pointing to his few meager belongings. Zana shook her head. "We'll get you new clothes and toys later," she reassured him. He pointed to a book. She strained her eyes to see the title. Zana's face broke out into a grin. "Don't worry, I have that whole series at home. You can read all of them if you like. I have tons of Muggle fairytales too." It was Harry's turn to smile. "Ready to go?"

Harry nodded. After a few Memory charms on his awful Muggle relatives, Zana and Harry were off. It was the last knowledge the British Wizarding World would have of Harry Potter.

Zana watched her godson sleep, anguish on his face as he twisted and turned. Nothing pained her more. It had taken her so long to find him. Dumbledore had done an excellent job at keeping it secret, she had to admit. Eventually, she had just slipped a little Vertiserum into James's goblet one day at tea, and he'd told her all she needed know. She'd erased his memory of the encounter. Normally, she'd feel bad, but James and Lily stopped being her friends when they let Dumbledore put Harry with those awful Muggles "for his own safety." Safety her arse! Those Muggles had nearly beat and starved Harry to death. To Zana, there was no greater dishonor than this. Zana was a Kalgarias, after all, and their first loyalty was to their family. You did anything you needed to do for family. James and Lily had forgotten this. They had placed Harry with Lily's sister and forgotten all about him, even going as far as to have another child when Harry was three. And Lily had just announced that she was pregnant again. Zana tried to protest this, but they said Dumbledore was keeping an eye on him. She doubted it. She didn't trust the old headmaster, never had. Anyone who could sit back and let this happen to a child was not a good man. And of course, this had alienated her from all her school friends. Everybody trusted Dumbledore and was willing to die for him. Even Sirius, the man she loved more than anything, believed him over her, thus signaling the end of their relationship.

Harry let out a terrified squeal in his sleep, and Zana felt her heart break. He didn't deserve this, didn't deserve any of this. She should've stopped Dumbledore. She should've rescued him sooner. Her godson had scars all over his body and face. He looked worse than Mad-Eye. She kissed his forehead softly and started to sing an old Greek lullaby, the same one her mother used to sing to her. Thankfully, Harry stopped flailing and started to sleep easier. Zana smiled. She kissed his forehead softly once again and whispered, "Sweet dreams, little one."

A few weeks later, Harry woke up in the small country house his Aunt Zana had rented for the time being. He loved his Aunt Zana. She was kind and pretty and told him the best stories he had ever heard. She kissed him and hugged him and told him he wasn't a freak. She explained magic and their world to him, explained how they could do things no one else could. Harry hadn't believed her at first, but then she had asked if he had ever done anything he couldn't explain when he was angry or scared. Harry had nodded.

He liked his new rooms. It was colorful and bright, so different from his cupboard. Aunt Zana had let him decorate it himself, not caring if the colors clash. He liked his new clothes too. They fit him perfectly, so unlike the hand-me-downs from Dudley. He also enjoyed his lessons. Aunt Zana was tutoring him in both Muggle and Wizarding subjects. He was also learning Greek, Aunt Zana's native language. She also told him stories of her times at Hogwarts, wonderful stories. When he asked why none of them loved him anymore, she simply replied, "I love you, Harry. I'll always love you."

He was just reading the third Narnia book when his Aunt Zana knocked on the door. That was one of the rules of the house. You absolutely always had to knock on the door before entering the room. "Come in," Harry replied. Aunt Zana came in. She was wearing one of her crazy-patterned dresses and a cowboy hat. Most people would think this was weird, but he had become accustomed to his aunt's crazy clothes. In fact, he liked them.

"Harry, I want to talk to you about something," she started. He nodded. She continued. "We've been here a few weeks, but I don't think it's safe. The old coot," their name for Dumbledore, "can easily find us here. I think I have a solution." She paused for a moment. "I want to adopt you."

"Adopt me?" Harry stuttered. He could hardly believe it. He'd have a parent all his own!

"Yep," Zana said. "Both legally and magically."

"Magically?" Harry repeated.

"There's an old blood ritual," Zana explained. "It will make you my son in blood. It's technically illegal, but I know someone who is willing to help me do it."

Harry thought about it for a moment. "After the ritual, would I look like you?"

Zana smiled. "Yes, you would."

"I want to be your son," Harry stated softly. Zana hugged him tightly. Then he asked another question. "Can I call you Mama?"

Zana kissed his forehead. "Of course you can. And we'll pick out a new name for you, a Greek name." Harry perked up at this. He loved Greek mythology. They had a lot of cool names.

Harry had one last question. "Mama?" he asked tentatively.


"What about my scars?"

Zana sighed. She knew they would have this conversation. "There are glamours we can use to cover them up," she explained. "Personally, I don't mind them. All they show me is a very strong, brave little boy who has weathered more than he should have to." She smoothed down his hair. "They make you stronger."

Harry nodded. And so, Harry James Potter was, technically, no more.