Disclaimer: Neither Harry Potter or Inuyasha is mine. I don't claim the characters. They belong to J.K. Rowling and Rumiko Takahashi respectively. I also don't make a profit from writing this. Thank you.

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, foul language, and some bashing.

A/N: IMPORTANT! I know some of you are waiting for an update and I am sorry. I was re-reading by story and I didn't like how the beginning of this story was written, so I am going to clean it up. I hope you can bear with me and keep reading my story. It's mostly trying to correct my grammar and hopefully make it easier to read as well. Thank you.

~Edited 9/30/17

"Demon" - Talking

'Demon' - Thinking

Chapter 1

Harry has had enough!

He tried to be the person that they wanted him to be. He got into Gryffindor – House of the Brave – and won the Quidditch Cup every year since he was forced to play in first year. He was forced because he hadn't wanted to be on the team at first. He even told McGonagall and Oliver that he wasn't comfortable being on the Quidditch team when he knew nothing about it nor did he want the attention of being the only one his age on a team either. He didn't want to become an outcast for getting special treatment. His pleads were ignored by McGonagall and Oliver thought he was just being modest and/or shy.

It was made worse when McGonagall had a Nimbus 2000 owl delivered to him in the Great Hall for everyone to see. Which he finds funny considering she was the one who told him sternly not to let the school know about him becoming a Seeker until the first match of the season. The Gryffindors were ecstatic to have the top of the broom in their team and took to gloating to the other Houses, especially Slytherins. The other Houses didn't take that too kindly which they then took out on him. Always taunting him where ever he went, telling him that he's going to fall off and die or breaking such and such bones. As always, though, when he won his first match and seeing how good he was on a broom they changed their tune to start praising him instead. The only House that treated him the same afterwards was the Slytherins.

He made friends with a Light and poor Pure-blood wizard, Ronald 'Ron' Weasley who's against all that is Slytherin and Dark magic and Hermione Granger - muggle-born girl who's said to be "the brightest witch of their generation." Not that was his intentions when he first befriended them. Ron was just the first wizard his age that he spent more time than thirty minutes with; Hermione just ended up attached after they saved her from the troll. As they say, the rest is history.

He saved the school every year since he rejoined the Wizarding World even though it's supposed to be the "Safest and Best Wizarding School in the World." 'Yeah…not so save as they like to claim. Something is always happening in that damn school that somehow ends up with me having to deal with it. I am not surprised that all my adventures haven't made it to the papers just yet unless it was to make me look bad. The Headmaster couldn't have the school and their teachers look bad after all.'

Even with all that, they still were not satisfied with him. Always finding fault with everything he does. If he doesn't measure up to their expectation they end up throwing a temper tantrum like a child not getting its way. Saying cruel things about him without meeting him even once, like they have the right and that there won't be any type of consequence for their actions, or non-action as it was.

'The only thing that they are doing is making me hate them with every fiber of my being. It's pretty sad that grown ass adults get off in trying to break the spirit of a child so they can feel better about themselves.' thought Harry with dark amusement and bitterness. 'I am not their toy that they can do whatever they want and then throw away when they get bored with it. Expecting it to wait for them to come back and play with it again. They expect me to grin n' bare it since I should be grateful for all the attention that I'm given. After all, who wouldn't want to be famous?'

The more he thought about his treatment from the Wizarding World, the more he is consumed with hatred. So much so that the only thing he sees is red and hears nothing but the blood rushing in his ears. If it wasn't for his precious owl, Hedwig, snapping him out of it, he would have gone and done something stupid and reckless. He could feel his weak muscles straining under his skin from how tightly he balled his hands into fists. His breathing was coming out in harsh pants with his body shaking in fury.

"Hoot!" Hedwig hooted snapping Harry out of his downwards spiral.

"Thanks girl." He told her softly after blinking at her in confusion for a few seconds. He unclenched his hands while getting his breathing back under control. "I needed that." He got another 'hoot' before she tucked her head back into her wing to go to sleep. He smiled softly before going back to his thoughts.

If he wanted to be treated like crap all the time, then he would have just stayed with his relatives. 'At least they don't pretend to like me one moment then stab me in the back the next. Even my so called best friends' treat me like I am a nit-wit that needs to be led around like a dog on a leash because I am too stupid to do anything by myself.'

In anger at the thought, Harry threw the Daily Prophet that he was reading against the dirty white wall of his small bedroom at Number 4 Privet Drive. It landed with the front page up to where anybody looking would see the headline "Harry Potter, The Chosen One," with a picture under it of a skinny and short 14 year old boy with shoulder length raven black hair with dark red highlights that can only be seen in the right light. The hair looks like a bird's nest and in serious need of a good brushing. He had pale and flawless skin, except for the lightning bolt scar on his forehead.

He was about 5'1'' to 5'2'' in height. The most exquisite thing about him though was his eyes, which were a bright emerald green. A green that reminded people of the color of the worst and most powerful curse of the Unforgivables: the Killing Curse. It is offset, however, by the hideous thick black rimmed and round glasses that he is force to wear because his family is too cheap to pay for better ones for what they call a 'freak of nature'.

The last two years haven't really changed much. He grew at least to 5'4'' to 5'5'' in height. Lost a little bit of weight from not eating much the past two weeks and three days since being back to Privet Drive. This time not because of his relatives holding out on the food and working him to the bone, but because he's been wallowing in quilt for getting Sirius Black, his godfather, killed.

When not thinking about Sirius, he's thinking about the prophecy that Dumbledore showed him with his pensive right after the Ministry of Magic fiasco. A prophecy that ruined his life. 'I don't know what to do. Should I take it as gospel like the Headmaster or should I ignore it as false since it came from that fraud Trelawney? Though she did make that one prophecy that came true. The worst part about all this is that I don't think the Headmaster or Riddle would allow me to disregard the prophecy.'

The rest of the school year he was mostly left alone with his thoughts and he still couldn't decide on what to do. It didn't help that once again he was on radio silence. Nobody was talking to him. The two times that he dragged himself out of his depression to try to get answers out of the Order member watching him; he was rebuffed and told to get back into the house. That it wasn't safe for him to be out and about.

He kind of wished that Mad-eye Moody's threats at King Cross Station weren't as effective against his relatives as they were. If he was treated the same as any other year, then he would have been worked to the bone and wouldn't have had time to dwell on his thoughts. 'Though Uncle Vernon's face looked like it was going to explode from anger.' He thought amused.

Only fear kept him from any retribution from the anger his Uncle and Aunt felt at being confronted by the Freaks. Aunt Petunia's face looked like she was constipated. Dudley's face looked weary but contemplative. It was just weird considering he's not much of a thinker in the first place. He also looked like he lost weight and gain some muscles. Not that it matters since he had barely been home all summer so he didn't have to worry about him using those muscles on him. Instead he's been staying with a friend from Smelting's' High School for the most part.

While the first week or so was mostly him having a pity party, the rest of the time he had been thinking about the prophecy and what his role in it will be. Will he be able to survive when he's barely even trained in anything? He doesn't even know how to duel and when he asked Dumbledore to train him or at least a member from the Order to help him, all he got was a pat on the head and sent on his way while being told that everything is being taken care of and to trust him.

"How can I trust him when all he does is keep secrets from everyone and expects people to just move the way he want everybody to move." he muttered darkly. "When he does say something it's either too cryptic or too late to do anything about it. If he is so wise and powerful, why the hell is he expecting me to kill Voldemort? Oh, that's right, the prophecy says it has to be Me." he adds on sarcastically.

Harry glanced at the Daily Prophet again and just snorted in derision. One moment he's a lying, attention seeking brat to being the Chosen One that is going to save them from the big bad monster in the night. This in itself is pathetic since they are expecting a 15, almost 16, year old child to fight for them while they hide in their beds pissing their pants. Not only that, they don't even have the decency to apologize for how they had treated him the past year.

"Freak!" yelled Uncle Vernon making him jump in shock not having expected to be called. "Get Down here now."

"Great. Now, I have to hear the big walrus talk." he said sarcastically under his breath. He got off his run down bed that looked as if it's about to break apart at any minute and went downstairs stopping on the third step from the bottom. The whole family was by the door dressed in fancy cloths, looking at him impatiently.

"Freak, we are going out to dinner and I expect you to stay in your room. I don't want you to contaminate anything with your freakishness. Do you understand me, Boy?" His Uncle growled like a bulldog. He kind of looks like one with the jowls and spit flying from his mouth. It was like looking at a crossbreed between a walrus and a bulldog creating a very ugly image.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon." He said meekly even though his thoughts weren't so meek. 'One day I won't be held back by the underage restriction on magic. Then what will you do dear Uncle?' he thought darkly.

Uncle Vernon gave one last glare and left with Aunt Petunia sniffing at him looking disgusted with his mere presence while she followed her husband out. Dudley just nodded to him and closed the door behind him making him confused about what that was all about.

He waited until he couldn't hear the car anymore before going to the kitchen to grab an apple - they don't really pay attention to the fruits in the first place - before going back to his room. After closing the door, he looked at his room – if one can really call this a room – in disgust. It was more of a storage room really. Everything was on its last legs as well. The bed with its threadbare dark gray that once was black blanket with no sheets. A pillow that was really flat with no pillow case and that smelled slightly of something he didn't even want to know.

The desk had scratches all over it, the color faded from a rich brown to a dull brown. A thick book under the right front leg to even it out so that it wouldn't wiggle too much. There was a drawer from the very bottom gone with only two left. A wooden chair that was rigid with no patting and that the rest of the family didn't want. A wardrobe that have also seen better days but in better condition than any other furniture in the room. The carpet a dirty gray color, a color that's mostly from the dirt with dark patches from stains that he also would rather not thinks about. It used to be pure white.

Harry sighed deeply before going to sit on his bed to eat his apple. When he was done he throws the core into the small trashcan between the bed and the desk. He got up and let Hedwig out to go hunt and stretch her wings. She flew to his shoulder first to nibble his ear in affection before flying out the window. Harry sighed again and went back to his bed to lie down.

'I will think more about everything and what I am going to do in the morning. I can no longer stay untrained and ignorant about everything either. In the morning I will make a list of anything I think I need to do and do it instead of waiting for Dumbledore to get someone to train me in what I need.' he thought sleepily. A few minutes later he fell into a deep sleep not even hearing the Dursley's coming back home making a lot of noise.