Hey guys! First chapter of the rewrite up, sorry it's taken so long to do. I have decided on an update schedule I will try my hardest to keep. I will try and update this story every Sunday. I am also working on a couple other stories that I am going to post soon. One is called Children of Olympus, it is a Percy Jackson fanfiction. The other is called Tears of an Angel, based on the song of the same name, though it is not a songfic. It is a Percy Jackson/Harry Potter crossover. I am also branching in to a few more fandoms. As for the lateness, I really have no excuse other than the fact that I was being lazy, but hey, at least it WAS finished! Happy Reading!
Harry Potter was no normal boy, much as his relatives wished he was. Or, rather, tried to force him to be. He could do things that nobody else could, as far as he was aware. Looking at him, one would not think he was anything special. He was very small for his age, a fact that may have come from where his bedroom was, (The Cupboard Under the Stairs, if one is wondering), or maybe it was because of the way he was fed and what he ate. (A stale piece of bread once a day with a cup of water at breakfast, which was his bread, and when his relatives ate lunch and dinner), or perhaps, like his relatives claimed, it could be genetics. No matter the reason, it did nothing to change the fact that for all his seven years, Harry Potter looked like a four or five year old child, certainly nowhere near seven. This fact, combined with the strange maturity in his eyes and the way he talked, when he did talk at all, worried his teachers and many people around him, not to mention the fact that he could blend into shadows when he did not want to be noticed, and that he was the fasted child in his class, and indeed some of the older classes. He was so fast that he could move across an open field more swiftly and smoothly than the shadows of birds flying above. Yes, Harry Potter was a strange and unique child indeed, even when you do not consider what he can do with his mind.
Pain... That is, in essence, my world. It is what I feel everyday, what I go through, it is part of who I am. Without pain, would I be myself? Would I be who I am today? A simple question, with an easy answer...No. They are the ones who have caused the pain I go through, they are the ones who have made me who I am, and I am grateful to them for that, and the fact that they have taught me important lessons, lessons that shape who I am, that make me myself, and I am grateful for that.
The first lesson I learned is that learning quickly can, and will, save your life. You have to be, to survive, and even thrive in a world of pain. You have to learn what is save to say, what is safe to do, all to help to avoid pain. You must learn the best places to be hit, so it does not hurt as much as it could, so it does not hurt anything important badly. You must learn how to move so they only hit you there, without them noticing, without them catching on, because when they do, they will make it so you can not move, so that you can not avoid it. You can learn a lot when you develop this skill, all because they like causing you pain.
The second lesson I learned is maturity. I learned that being mature can get you more respect, and also better self control. Self control is one of the most important things you need to survive with them. If you cry because of something they do, they will do it again and again until it destroys you – unless you learn to control yourself, until you learn not to cry, until you learn to hide how much it hurts. If something makes you happy, makes you smile, they will take it away from you, no matter what it is. Once it is gone, no matter what you do, they will never let you replace it, they will never let you be happy. That is how they will destroy you, because you can never be happy with them – Unless you learn to hide your happiness, how not to smile or laugh or grin. Both of these are important, but still, the worst thing you can do with them, is to show pain. To them, pain is a weakness. It is a sign that they are winning, that they are breaking through. No matter what kind of pain it is, no matter what you do to show it, they will see, and they will do it again and again, until you are begging for them to stop, praying for mercy that will never come. You can never cry out, you can never groan, never flinch, grimace, clench your fists or bite your lip. You have to be able to hide every bit of your pain from them, or they will break you – until you learn to hide it, so not even the slightest hint of it shows in your eyes.
The third, and last important lesson I learned from them is that you can never give up. No matter what they do, or how bad it gets, you can never let them win. You may have to hide your emotions, and battle with the pain they cause every day, but you are still strong. Stronger than them, so show it by never giving up, never just lying there and let them hit you, by never letting them kill you. Show it by standing proud and tall, by learning everything you need to know, by never backing down, by Surviving. Because sometimes, that is all you can do.
I am Harry Potter. I am one of the lucky ones, one of the survivors. Unfortunately, there are not many of us. I see it, I see the ones that give up every day. I see it by the way they stand, the defeated look in their eyes, or sometimes the way they just walk home one day, and never come back the next. There is more than one kind of defeat, though, and it can be so much worse. Sometimes, there are people who suppress the emotions so much, the pain, the sadness, the happiness, that they forget how to feel them, and most of the time, not a single person notices. They can live a lifetime, never feeling anything. They will walk, and talk, but never feel a single emotion, and you will never find out, unless you see the empty look in their eyes, or the way nothing they say or do or make has any bit of emotion in it. They are the ones who defeated themselves. Yes, they might have defeated them, but it was a bitter defeat, as the price was literally their soul, who they could have been.
Everyone has them. Their monsters, even if they never realize it. It could be that person who always seems to hate you, with no reason that you know of. You may never even realize it, but it is eating away inside, making you doubt yourself. For me, my monsters are much worse, for the simple reason that they are my family, the ones who should love me, and take care of me, but they never have, and never will. They are my Uncle Vernon, my Aunt Petunia, and my cousin, Dudley. They have always hated me, for as long as I can remember. It is easy to see, that they hate me. I see it every day, in all the scars on my body. I have a lot of scars, and only one of them, on my forehead, is not from them. I have whip marks, lash marks, burn marks, and knife marks, some old, some new, all of them scars. They are careful to only hurt me in places where other people cannot see, and it has worked very well, as even the biggest scar is easily hidden. It is worse than the rest, and not only because it is the biggest. I have had it since I was five. It is just below my shoulder blades, and stretches all the way across my back. It is made of seven pieces. Seven Scars, Seven Letters, a Seven Letter Word. A word that changed by life.
Word Count For This Chapter: 1342