I don't own fairy tail or Harry Potter

It was a dark and stormy night.

Well, that might be exaggerating a bit. Sure it was cloudy, with no moon in sight, and thunder rolled through the air, but that Samhain, a great darkness left the world. And the reason that darkness was gone was bundled tightly in blankets, aboard a flying motorcycle.

As the motor cycle touched down onto solid pavement, the giant man riding it dismounted, carrying the tightly bundled blankets gently in his meaty hands.

"Ah Hagrid, good, do you have the boy?" an incredibly old man asked the giant, now revealed to be named Hagrid.

"Of course Professor Dumbledore, got him out of the house no trouble, little tyke fell asleep on the way." the big man said, handing the bundled child to Dumbledore.

"Very good Hagrid." Dumbledore replied, and began making his way up to a dull cookie cutter house that was just like all the others on the block.

"Are you really going to leave him here Albus, these are the worst sort of muggles I've ever seen!" a stern witch with her hair in a tight protested as she followed Dumbledore on his slow march up the front walk followed by Hagrid.

"It is for the best Minerva, they are his blood family, that is what matters, he will be safe from our world here." Dumbledore told her, his blue eyes twinkling, yes, the boy would be safe from the wizarding world here, but he knew what Mcgonagall meant, Petunia and Vernon Dursley were horrible people, just what he wanted to raise his hero, his martyr.

"Good luck, Harry Potter." Dumbledore said to the bundle he left on the front porch, and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone, as were his compatriots.

On the front porch, the small boy opened his eyes, an electrifying green staring out at the world, his story only just beginning.

5 years later

Harry Potter was miserable. His life was one of difficult tasks made harder by the difficult people in it. He worked for everything he had. He worked for every scrap of food, every sip of water, every torn oversized piece of clothing. And if he didn't work hard enough, his uncle would hit him, throw him in his cupboard for days on end.

His Aunt would make him cook and clean, and when he started going to school, both his own work and his cousin's. At school his cousin would chase him with his gang, and if they caught him, they would punch and kick him until he started coughing up blood.

He didn't see an end in sight,every year it got worse and worse, the beatings were harder, the time spent locked in his cupboard was getting longer, so Harry.

Harry put his blanket and the few pounds he had scrounged up in a bag and hid it in the yard, and when the time came for him to do outdoor chores, he grabbed his bag and slipped away, vowing never to return to number 4 Privet drive as long as he lived.

Harry had been running for a week until he hit the countryside and holed up in a hollowed out tree. A large storm was forming and Harry was trying to stay out of the freezing rain and the howling wind.

The sky boomed with thunder, but Harry saw no lightning, until the biggest bolt of lightning he had ever seen landed right on the tree he was in with a loud crash, and Harry's world went black.

Back in a magnificent castle in Scotland, the magical devices of one Albus Dumbledore, the ones meant to monitor and track him, all stopped, and the one that monitored Harry's well being, the one that Dumbledore was proud to have read abused more often than not, now read 'no longer exists'.

Hey, I'm not dead, just recovering from broken fingers that made typing quite painful and getting over an anime addiction. I blame my terrible friends for introducing me, and I know one of them will probably read this, they know who they are. I am writing for all my stories, all three one I had up before, this one, and a second new one I plan on getting up some point between Christmas and New Years. Yes posting is really slow for me, but I'm a perfectionist running on an incredibly tight schedule, one who is grateful for insomnia as it is usually the only way for me to get all my stuff done.

Happy reading- Centurion Africanus