Word count: 2,397

Warnings( for all of series): Child Abuse, Spouse Abuse, Lycan mating, Violence, Rape, And gore. Oh and Death. MxMxMX….

Summary: There was something wrong that night. And it forever changed the life of young harry potter, truly the boy who lived and died and lived again. Weasley!Bashing. Dumbledore!Bashing. HarryX Multi Partner. Creature Fic and Mpreg. Good voldie moldie.

"Someone told me blood is thicker than water, but then so is mud. You don't see me sticking up for them."

There was a silence, something about the late night on July 31th, a feeling in the air that could raise the hairs on the back of your neck. It was the wind, or the lack of one in the night, and the moonless gaping mouth that was the sky. It could be felt in the way the children seemed to stop playing, or whining about how bedtime wasn't fair. And it was like a bad taste on your tongue; it lay heavy like medicine and never left your mouth, no matter what you did.

It was a day, just an ordinary day. Nothing to extordinary in life of petunia Dursley. She had done the shopping, having gotten only the best for her son, who was as big as a house but not in the way of his father. No the boy had become a man, or at least in the eyes of his mother. He had lost the fat, and then came the muscle which wrapped itself lovingly around his body. He had gained height as he lost weight, and began to look like his tall lanky mother. But still, nothing had bothered her that day. Her clothes were perfect, her smile simple but elegant. She talked with some of the neighbors, and even gossiped about the fact that the mail man stopped an hour at the deluicy house, and even went in. She was surer than not that the woman who lived there was having an affair. And if she was lucky, she and Helena Beatrice would see the blow out of the shameful family.

Oh, it was a normal day.

Vernon Dursley however… His day could not have been called so.

It was noon when it came to head. His coffee was stale, and cold, and then it was the copier machine had gotten jammed again, but it was a truly bad day when Philip, his boss, had told him they had lost the huge case he had been working on. They had lost the client, and it wouldn't have been that big of a deal if it had not been for the name. The client had gone with the company overseas, a 'Potts and era'.

So when the day was done, and three more bad luck occurrences had happened, he just knew, he knew it had to do with "Him".

It was the thumping of his car, the screams and cries coming from within that gave the air the foul tint, which made the night of the 31st a truly horrible night. It was the cries coming from trunk that had made the moon hide; it turned the night pitch black. Small fists were the drums of what was to come, the whimpers of the other.

"Mum, have you seen this? " Dudley Dursley shoved the daily paper under his mother's upturned nose, her eyes almost going crossed as she tried to read the fine print. Most mothers would have gently pushed the papers back, and told the teen to 'please don't shove things in their face', but not Petunia Dursley. No her child was perfect. "They found the bodies, of that man, remember a week ago. No head, yeah. Well their saying it wasn't murder. He had fallen of the barge, and had hit the blade of motor boat. Stupid arse was drunkard. "

This sort of talk was normal among the Dursley's, as their other house mate knew full well. Little Harry Potter was in the kitchen, his ear perked up as he listened to the news spewed from the others mouths. It was the most he got, and if he closed his eyes he could've pretended it was him they were conversing with. Not that he wanted it to be, as the conversations between him and his cousin got heated and would get out of hand. And then in the end he would hurt so bad that he wouldn't speak.

He rarely spoke anyway.

Dinner was on the stove as he swept, his little eyes watching the pasta. He had only burned dinner once, when he was nine and he had hurt so bad that he had never burnt it again. Plus, at the age of ten, he had gotten the hang of cooking the more complex things his aunt had demanded he make. Steak was his favorite so far, the juicy meat was a delight to cook, the smell making his sunken in stomach growl. He never dared to take a bite however, instead he tortured himself, smelling the cooking meat, more than he would ever get.

Freaks didn't get good food. They got scraps.

Or not even that.

Harry had just taken the pasta off of the fire when his uncle slammed in, the man's fat jiggling as he bounded in. His aunt rose, the embodiment of perfection as she went to say hello to her husband, a kiss on the cheek and a quick proper hug. He longed for something of the sort. A touch of affection, his eyes watering as he watched the couple converse but he knew better than to stare, his eyes falling to the ground.

With the food prepared, he hurried to his place, his safe place under the stairs as was his duty. He only came out to cook and clean, and then maybe when he was all alone. It happened often, they forgot him and left he to where he would eat just enough that it was hard to tell. Just a slice of cheese, a cube of butter, a few chips, things that were too good for him but would keep him going for weeks. Sometimes, if he was truly lucky, Dudley would find time to slip him food in the middle of the night, especially when his uncle had gone to town on him, lash marks littering his poor body.

Listening to his family eat, he tried to ignore the pain in his stomach. It hurt so much; the hunger was like a beast that had enough of the small cage he had confined it to. But it still clawed at him, and he was hot, his skin feeling as if it would peel from the raging fire. He assumed it was his spider friends fault. Just the other day, Dudley had come down the stairs with piers, his cousins friend from school, and the much skinnier boy had jumped up and down, knowing he would be covered in spiders because of it. He had gotten bit, by which he did not know, but it still hurt. But nothing as bad as the hunger pains which pierced him.

"And we lost the case, and all because of that boy." Those words made Harry freeze. He could feel the heavy foot falls of his uncle, and the smaller ones of his aunt. Climbing back, he tried to make himself small in the corner of his small room as the man reached in and took a handful of his, as some would exclaim, beautiful hair.

"What do you have to say for yourself, eh freak? Would it make you happy to lose my job? Lost six cases in the past year to your freakishness. "He shook hair, which moved as if he was a rag doll, his little face dry but scrunched up in pain. He knew better than to answer, it would only provoke his uncle but he still did.

"I'm sorry uncle."

The force of the first slap, whipped his head around, or at least would have if his hair wasn't gripped like a safety line. The next slap brought tears to his eyes, those big green eyes. And then they fell but it didn't stop the raining down of slaps and shakes. By the time his uncle dropped him, he couldn't see out of one eye and his jaw hurt. His arm was bent funny, and if he tried, he could see the bone. His uncle had hit it when he had reflexively brought it up to protect himself. He wished it was over.

But it wasn't.

He could have smelled whiskey on that breath, his uncle had been late. He had been drinking and drunk when he laid into small harry. Three sharp kicks to the boy's stomach, bile forcing its way up Harry's throat, spewing over the ground. There were more kicks to his legs, one snapping so loud it made his uncle stop for a second. But not long enough for him to run. Not it didn't stop uncle his uncle was gasping for breath and petunia sitting him down on the settee.

"Look what you have done now. He's trying to kill you." His aunt screamed and Dudley looked lost. But it didn't matter as Vernon got back up.

Harry knew he was going to die if he didn't get away. And it was why his magic, trying to protect him, lashed out; pushing his aunt and cousin to the ground and his uncle stumbled back. Seeing his wife on the ground, nursing a small cut, he went into another fit of rage. A cold calm one that had him dragging the boy to the car, ignoring his wife's calls about the neighbors. Blast the neighbors, he thought, the boy would not live to taint his son a day longer. He would shed no more blood for the little waste of space.




Vernon grinned to himself, listening to the small cries of the boy in the boot. He was doing something all along, something he had wanted to do the moment he had saw the little bundle on his door. He had begged his wife to let him do it, to let him take care of their problems but it had been the neighbor, some old woman, who had seen the baby as he went to do just that. He had taken in back inside, damning his luck. If the baby was seen missing now, he could go to jail. But not anymore.

He was done. Bloody done.

It was the river bed that gave him the idea, his Dudley loved to play in the mucky water as a baby but it had become polluted with run off. Just as their family had become polluted with Harry, so it only fit that he leaves the pest with the stink.

He had to plug his nose with his huge meaty fingers as he made his way to the boot; the car parked just a few steps away from the water. Pulling the boy out, Harry's eyes widened and his pleading renewed, but this time not muffled by the sound of an engine.

"Uncle I'm sorry! I'm so sorry. Please. I'll be better, I promise. No more freaky things, please. Please!" But it fell on deaf ears as harry was brought to the ground and Vernon pressed his hands to the boys neck. Forcing his head under water, Harry tried so hard to fight; his little legs kicking as he drowned on water that burned his skin. He could taste the bad, the water was toxic. Which is why Vernon got up as harry slumped back, all the fight leaving him, and he got into his car.

And he left Harry gasping for breath, coughing up water and something that could be seen as blood.

It was the final seconds of human life that could be said to be the most important. People often saw things that scared them, or maybe it was the peace that overcame them, but it was important. But there were times when a person came back, walked along the thin line between death and life and in a miracle choose life. It didn't happen often.

The white haired man had been just making his way along, slowly but surely. It wasn't often he left his home, not without his wife or child and surely not in such a muggle infested place such as the small area. But it could be said it was fate that Vernon Dursley almost ran over Lucius Malfoy, if he hadn't then the man wouldn't have turned his head. He wouldn't have seen the last seconds of the life of the poor boy.

Malfoys didn't run, it was something he had been ingraining in his sons head for years. It was unbecoming to run in public, and for the exception of duels, it shouldn't be done. But he ran as he held onto the fastly fading harry potter. He ran into an alley way, apperating into his own home. His wife sat on the settee, with his longtime friend, Severus Snape, and his sleeping son. Normally he would have snapped at Narcrissa for letting Draco sleep on the uncomfortable couch but it didn't matter as the other two adults rushed over, scaring his son awake.

" He's been drowned, and I think beaten." Narcrissa informed him as she waved her wand over the short length. She had seen the scar on the boy's forehead, but like her husband thought nothing of it. The mark on Lucius arm meant nothing in light of an abused child. " Five broken ribs, a punctured lung, internal bleeding and…" She cried as she pulled the boy onto the table. " And he's dying."

Severus Snape had never been more thankful for his paranoid potion hording then at the moment Lucius came in with the Potter boy. Quickly, he pulled out the proper potions from his many pockets, uncorking them and dumping them down his throat. Narcrissa barely had time to coax them down the dying boys throat before the next on was in. They all watched in agony as his breaths became lighter and lighter.

"Why isn't it working Severus?!" Narcrissa almost screamed. This little boy was the same age as Draco, but he was so tiny. He looked to be three and not ten like his baby boy just over on the couch. Her mother instincts told her to make it work, and she began to pet every part of his body.

Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy, Narcrissa Malfoy and young Draco Malfoy all watched as Harry's eyes opened. And then a small pained breath escaped his lips, and then nothing.

Harry Potter was nothing.

AN: Hay guys thanks for reading my first ever post, and first story. This story came to me out of my love for creature fics and is quite umm… Well youll find out for yourself. Now the story is pretty simple.

Qand A quickie:

Will this be Canon?

Not really, so if your looking for something that has that then please, don't waste your time. This story is Au, almost completely. Voldemort is good, Dumbledore is bad. It does have canon plots, like triwizard and Sirius Black. But other than that, all of it is pretty Au.


Harry will have more than one partner but for right now, this is a HarryXBlaiseXDraco story. Harry has a Harem of men. (Lol to quote "rise of the Drakens which completely is my go to muse for some good laughs and smiles. (and smex!)

Have a Q? Hit me up in the replies and Ill give you a A

This story will be considered a one shot until I get enough Reviews! ( 3)