Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

...

Harry sat underneath the familiar tree, his knees pulled up to his chest as he did his best to become invisible. In front of him were the rest of the school children he guessed were his peers, though they had never treated him as such. This was part of the reason why he was trying to suppress his crying at the moment.

That and the gash that was currently bleeding out above his eye.

With his left hand he applied pressure to the wound, knowing that nobody else would help him in this situation. Anytime he had approached the school nurse with a similar injury she had pushed him out the door immediately, a venomous comment following suit.

Of course they weren't of the same calibre as those of his fellow classmates. Even now they echoed in his ears, every demeaning term a seven year old could think of.

Monster.

Freak.

Weirdo.

Butt face.

Demon.

Beast.

He had heard of the old 'Sticks and Stones' proverb but to him words stabbed at him like a knife. Looking up from his secluded area he found he was no longer alone, the rest of the kids staring at them with their fingers pointed at him.

"Freak. Freak. Freak. Freak."

All Harry could do to defend himself was cover his ears and try and block out the sound but somehow it only became louder, constant yelling in his ears as the faces of those in front of him twisted and warped, becoming more hellish by the second. Harry forced his eyes shut but the faces still appeared on the insides of his eyelids, burned into his retina as the yelling become static screams the threatened to deafen him.

Opening his eyes for but a second he saw his cousin Dudley standing in front of him, his fist cocked back momentarily before he swung at Harry's face.

…

Harry awoke with a start, sweat beading down his forehead as he breathed in and out heavily desperately trying to get his breath back. Turning his attention to the window he was reminded that he was no longer at that school and those children could never torment him again. Yet he was still very much afraid that his worries were not yet over.

No, they would never be over.

Calming himself, Harry looked out the window of the Hogwarts Express, watching the scenery go by as he listened to the sound of the engine chuff away. For an eleven year old boy having recently discovered he was a wizard, the journey should have been an exciting one, filled with hope and anticipation. Harry however was full of dread.

For the longest of times he hadn't been able to understand why everyone had loathed him with what seemed like a burning passion. He had followed the rules of society, had tried to make friends, had been kind to everyone he met. Yet it was futile. They always creased their eyebrows into a frown, pulling their children along by the wrist or running away screaming like he would murder someone. The only creatures who did not shy away from him were the stray dogs that lived in Little Whinging. Uncle Vernon would never admit to their existence -it would be a smudge on the pristine image that the inhabitants tried to cultivate for their neighbourhood-, but Harry discovered where to find them and how to play along with their games. The dogs did not judge him; they greeted him as an equal. In time he would be their leader.

As Harry got older, understanding began to dawn on him. It never hit him full force, rather adding to a well that had been dry for the first seven or eight years of his existence. It wasn't until Dudley learned some new vocabulary that he understood just what was different about him.

He was strange. He was not like the rest.

Most of all, he was ugly. Hideous even. All the mean words had been true. He was a weirdo. He was a freak. At times Harry even felt like the town's favourite word, 'monster', was the most accurate description.

While he could now leave Surrey behind him, Harry felt no better.

When he had watched a family pass through the portal to Platform Nine and Three Quarters he had seen some of the stares he had received. Watched as people had ushered their children closer to their bosom in fear of him. He didn't blame them by any means; he had lived in a cupboard under the stairs for most of his life. The only time he had really been permitted out of his 'room' was for meals and school, both which he wished he didn't have to experience.

Throughout his education thus far he had done so without a single friend to call his own, nobody wanted to partner up with him for activities and even the teachers had avoided making eye contact with the boy. He had learned pretty early on that even if he raised his hand to answer a question the teacher would never select him. So he simply stopped trying. It didn't mean that he slacked off in his studies, far from it. Having to effectively teach himself had been difficult, referencing dictionaries for help with spelling and calculators to tell him whether or not he had been correct in his mathematical equations. He couldn't even compare his notes with those of his peers, not like they ever copied as much as he did. He always did more than necessary and was studying at a much higher level than his peers and had his relatives actually visited the school they could have discussed potentially moving him up a grade.

They never did.

Life at home had been just as bad. His aunt and uncle refused to look at him and barely said anything more than commands to clean or that dinner was ready. He never really expected much from them and other than living under their roof they wanted as little to do with him as possible. Dudley was just as bad. Dudley did more than say mean things. He used his fists too.

"Excuse me," said a timid voice from the doorway, snapping Harry out of his musings. Turning towards the compartment door he saw a student roughly his own age. He also recognised him as a part of the family that he had followed onto the platform after hearing the word 'Muggles.' Harry watched as the boy's eyes widen for but a moment before he looked away. "Never mind."

Harry said nothing as the boy walked away. Once more Harry couldn't blame the reactions of the red-haired boy. He didn't believe that just because he now belonged to a magical community that things would be different. It was almost reassuring knowing that his belief had been spot on. The boy's mother had been somewhat helpful in helping him discover the platform but the reaction he had gotten from her had almost seemed fake, a plastered on smile that showed no real sense of fear other than the eyes. Sure she had explained it well enough almost as if reading from a script but Harry could read her eyes' as clear as day and while the rest of her face put on the display she was calm and collected her eyes screamed of her disgust.

It was hard to tell which was worse.

Since he had set foot into the magical community, Harry had been receiving stares from everywhere around him. Most of them etched reactions of disgust or fear. What was quite remarkable for Harry to note was that the Goblins at Gringotts had received him with open arms. The Goblin who had showed him to his vault, identified as Griphook, had told him that Goblins had little liking for magical humans, but Harry appeared to be an exception, though the boy couldn't tell why. Perhaps they just had a soft spot in their hearts for the pitiable.

There was one person who shocked him more than anyone. Hagrid, who had come to Harry on a stormy night on a cliff by the sea, had greeted the boy with a smile and a handful of kind words. Harry had sat and stared at this giant, completely nonplussed, not understanding. He had thought that Hagrid was just pulling him along into this fantasy where people did not view him as the monster he thought himself to be. Hagrid could only smile and speak in a warm tone, telling him of the days where he had been friends with Harry's parents and how great they had been. When Hagrid said that he had been the one to pull Harry out of the rubble of his parental home after Hallowe'en eleven terrible years ago, he actually cried a bit. The look he had then received from those beady black eyes hadn't been fright, nor pity. It had been love.

And just like that, Harry had one person who saw him as he was: a person.

But good times never last long.

The rest of his trip through Diagon Alley had been an odd experience. He had tried to keep his emotions in check when he had witnessed the incredible atmosphere around him and the people had generally ignored him. Whether that was better than purposefully isolated was yet to be seen.

Focusing back on the view outside, Harry contemplated what his new life would be like and whether or not it would be at all different from anything else he had experienced. Optimism clearly wasn't his forte. During his musings he was interrupted by the trolley lady and he had purchased himself a couple of cornish pasties, ignoring the tempting supply of chocolate and sweets on offer. He had never had such treats before and figured that there was no point in doing so now.

His isolation however would be broken as he felt the urge to go to the bathroom rise, his lunch seemingly passing straight through him. Hoping that his belongings would be safe without the watch of anyone, Harry got up from his seat and left the safety of the room before moving down the carriage. Momentarily he glanced within a room filled with other students his age. A high pitched scream alerted him to the fact that he had been seen and he quickly made his way down the aisle to the restroom.

After having relieved himself and returning to the comfort of his compartment he was thankful mostly for the fact that nobody had decided to steal his belongings. Before he could return to his gazing out the window he heard somebody enter the door behind him. "Excuse me, have you seen a toad, a boy named Neville has lost his," said the person currently standing behind him.

"I haven't," responded Harry, refusing to turn and make eye contact with the female student behind him.

"You know, it's quite rude to talk to me without having the courtesy to look me in the eye," said the witch in a know-it-all manner which mildly grated on Harry's nerves.

"Trust me, it's better this way," said Harry, fighting the urge allow sarcasm to lace his voice. He just wanted to be left alone, why couldn't this person understand that? It was better that they not associate them.

"I feel as if you are deliberately attempting to ruin my pride and while many our age would scoff and walk away I feel as if I deserve to at least see your face."

"Please...don't make me."

The girl was taken aback by this sudden change in demeanour and somehow felt as if she were now the villain in this verbal confrontation. At first it had seemed as if he were just doing his best to ignore her but now it seemed as if there was a reason for this, something she wasn't certain of. Being the absorbent sponge of knowledge that she was and with such a riddle in front of her she was determined to discover the truth.

"I feel as if we've gotten off on the wrong foot, my name's Hermione Granger," she introduced herself.

"Harry Potter," he said, still refusing to turn and face her.

"Are you really?" asked Hermione. "Is that why you don't want to look at me, because you're a celebrity?"

"No, trust me, it's not that," said Harry.

"Then what is it?" asked Hermione as she stepped further into the room.

"Please..."

"Just show me your face."

Harry sighed in defeat feeling that he wouldn't get the isolation he wanted until he obeyed the girl's wishes. His turning was slow and precise and Hermione could see that he was afraid of what would happen. Surely it couldn't just be that he was shy...could it?

As Harry finished his turn she suddenly understood why he had been so hesitant to look at her. She had read in her books that the Killing Curse that had struck Harry had left a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. The author clearly had based her studies on rumours as opposed to facts.

All she saw was a network of scars littered across his face, nothing like the books she had read stated. They were almost terrifyingly mesmerizing, patterns carved into his very flesh painting a collage of disfigurement and fear. They ranged from thin lines to etches as thick as her finger and were every shade of dark red, making it look as if they were threatening to bleed out at a moment's notice. She could understand what he was afraid of; his looks felt as if they would frighten anybody who looked at them. By no means was it what she had been expecting but it was far, far worse than what her imagination had concocted.

"Do...do they..."

"Over the whole body, yea," answered Harry guessing what Hermione was going to say.

"I'm...I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have tried to pry into your privacy like that, I should have just left you alone," said Hermione in a hurried voice.

"No, thanks, it's been years since anyone my age has wanted to talk to me," said Harry.

Hermione quickly was about to refute his comment but the sadness in his eyes answered any questions she could construct. As harsh as it sounded, she couldn't help but feel as if she was the first person who had actually held a conversation with him in months. She was well aware how ruthless schoolchildren could be, she herself had been the target of many hurtful comments that would render her crying in a corner with nothing but her books for comfort. She felt for Harry however that the suffering his peers would have put him under would have been far more severe than her own torment.

"Well...Harry...I think I heard some of the older students say that we're near Hogwarts, you should get changed...I'll see you in class," said Hermione before leaving, heavy thoughts weighing on her mind. Harry meanwhile stood there for several daunting moments, replaying the entire conversation they had shared in his mind. It was nice, to be able to actually speak with someone instead of just being ignored or avoided constantly. Closing the door, dread crept through his being as he realized that was possibly the last time that Hermione Granger would want to willingly talk to him.

...

Harry hid at the back of the pack, keeping his head low in an attempt to use his hair to block out the view of his face. For the most part it worked, especially since many of the first year students had seemingly made friends on the Hogwarts Express and were currently engaged in conversation. Likewise it had been very similar on the boat ride over where Harry clambered into the boat that Hagrid had ridden, the gentle half-giant many times his age seemingly the only person he could communicate with without judging him. The rest of the students he knew would not be so tolerable.

Deep down though he knew it was only a matter of time. At some time he would have to show his face if anything the professor leading them through the halls was telling the truth. Looking to the side he viewed a portrait smiling at the new students but it would seem even the furnishings disliked him if the shrewd look he received was anything to go by. Seemed he was destined to be scrutinised and isolated.

Harry barely managed to stop in place as the group came to an abrupt halt ahead of a set of doors tall enough for the half-giant that had escorted him through Diagon Alley. Harry didn't particularly pay any attention to what the woman in front of him was saying. At the end of the day all he really wanted was to have some dinner and go to bed.

"So, are the rumours true?" asked one of the students as the witch left momentarily. Harry snuck a quick glance at the person commanding attention, the blonde-haired child puffing out his chest as if he owned the school. He reminded Harry of the many people who metaphorically walked over him over the past few years. Harry knew he couldn't do anything then and likely wouldn't be able to do anything now.

"What rumour?"

"That Harry Potter's come to Hogwarts," said the pompous boy, making Harry immediately drop his face. "C'mon then Harry, show yourself." Harry, understandably, had no intention to do anything of the sort. This, in turn, seemed to mildly upset the ponce. "What are you Harry, a coward?"

When there was still no response, the blonde kid began to grind his teeth together and Harry couldn't help but feel he'd inadvertently made the boy make a fool of himself. Hopefully he would avoid any retribution for this. Before the boy could say any more the doors to the hall opened up showing the female professor once more. "Follow me please," she instructed, turning on her heel and leading the way, the pack quickly following.

Harry remained at the back, keeping his head down and watching the feet in front of him. He was truly afraid of what was to come, having no real idea what to expect happen. Again the group came to an eventual stop and thankfully this time he avoided nearly colliding with those in front of him. Every so often he peered from side to side and whenever he could see anybody turn their attention towards him he immediately shot his gaze at the ground once more.

His heart started beating louder, he could hear the constant thump thump in his ears to the point where it was pounding at his skull. Perspiration continued to build on his brow and fear began to claw at his very being. His fingers begin to shake and cold shivers ran down the length of his spine.

Harry didn't register his name being called for the first time but the hushed whispers surrounding him felt more like the cold breathes filled with hate. Perhaps it was for this reason that when his name was called a second time he turned his back to the group and ran.

...

Dumbledore watched the scene play out in front of him as young Harry Potter fled the Great Hall. He had hoped that his instructions to Molly Weasley hadn't been too vague. Dumbledore had implanted the idea into her mind that Ron would be a perfect friend for Harry and that he should have sought him out on the train so that they could become friends.

Dumbledore sighed and signalled for Minerva to continue the sorting, he would track down Harry once the feast had begun and speak with him privately. From what he could assume, young Harry had come down with something of a panic attack. Albus would give him time to gather his wits before explaining to him what a wonderful opportunity had been presented to him by allowing him to study under the finest instructors the United Kingdom had to offer.

He would introduce Harry to Ronald another time so that Harry could interact with somebody whom Dumbledore could easily probe information from. It didn't take much to see that the young boy would basically give him whatever intel he required for nothing more than a Chocolate Frog. Hopefully he would connect with the family that blindly served him and his drive towards a better world. He didn't know what House the Sorting Hat would have put him in but he would personally induct Harry into Gryffindor so that he could be with those who would serve their purpose dutifully. If anything he could state that it was the House in which his mother and father had grown up in and that he should be proud to follow in their footsteps.

A cough from Minerva alerted Albus to the fact that the Sorting Ceremony had drawn to a close and that his speech was now required. Clearing his throat, he pushed all thoughts of Harry temporarily to the back of his mind as he got to his feet and made his way to the podium. Duties to attend to after all.

...

Harry bit back the nerves that strangled every pore as he stepped closer and closer to the new confines that would become his home for the foreseeable future. Behind him was the Headmaster of the school who had found him tucked up in a corner of the halls, the former contents of his stomach painting the wall next where he had sat.

Harry watched as the bile was removed with a flick of the elderly man's wand before trying to speak to Harry almost as if the two of them were equals, or at least would be in some time. Harry had also liked the fact that Professor Dumbledore had ignored the disfigurement which was his face and wondered whether or not the man was partially blind.

The professor had explained while the reaction young Harry had had wasn't unnatural it was a rare occurrence, and he was understanding that Harry's nerves had gotten the better of him. He had been reassuring with his statements and Harry truly felt that he could trust the man.

At least he thought the feeling was trust, having never truly experienced it with another human before.

Now though he stared at the portrait of the gatekeeper of the Gryffindor common room. According to Dumbledore all he had to say was the password and the portrait would move to the side and allow him access. Fear though kept his lips sealed and his throat dry. At least when he was living with the Dursley's he would have the isolation that the broom cupboard provided. There would be no such luxury here.

Roommates.

The thought terrified him.

"Go on Harry," said Albus reassuringly from behind him.

Harry's legs began to cramp.

"It'll be alright."

Sweat beads began to form atop his brow.

"Trust me."

Vision began to fade.

"Harry!"

Darkness.

...

Hope you enjoyed. This ideas been on my mind for quite some time and I finally was able to put it down so please let me know what you think. Cheers.

P.S. Huge shout out to my beta Kalebxdd who puts up with my constant nagging and sorts through the crud I usually put forth. If you get the chance I ask of you to check out his stories as he is one f the best authors I have come across.