If you look on my profile, you will notice that I posted a story that had some ideas of things that I wanted to write for Harry Potter fan fiction. However, this idea popped into my mind and I felt a strong need to write this. You can still go to my other story and leave a review telling me which idea you like the best.

Disclaimer:

The author of Harry Potter is blonde.

Wait, I'm blonde.

The author of Harry Potter is creative.

So am I.

And the author of Harry Potter is a world famous writer.

Darn.

Possessed

Anyone who could describe the family that lived in number four, Privet Drive, would say that the Dursleys were a normal, well-mannered family. And the Dursleys wanted to keep it that way.

If someone asked you to describe the family's personalities, they would probably tell you how the mother, Petunia, always tried to act impressive, and made sure both the children of the house were happy. They would probably say that Vernon Dursley had a huge temper, yet could be intimidated easily. Most likely, they would talk about how the Dursley's son, Dudley, was spoiled rotten, and was very used to getting what he wanted. But, I would think they wouldn't have much to say about the Dursley's nephew, Harry Potter.

Harry was a mystery to anyone who met him. He was small, even for a six year old, with big emerald eyes, black hair that stuck up in every direction, and a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt on his forehead.

He almost never spoke, and when he did, it was short, and to the point. And it seemed as if he never became upset or angry, and he was not often happy either (although it seemed like it was his Aunt's life ambition to make him smile.) Usually, the boy took on an expressionless face, as if he had no emotion whatsoever. But, if one looked close enough, and stared straight into Harry's eyes, they would see terror, as if he had just watched a horror movie, and he was convinced that someone was going to attack or kill him.

But this was not the case. They boy was not afraid of a murderer, or any other person he'd ever met. He was, however, afraid of himself.

When Harry appeared on the porch of number four, Privet Drive, the Dursleys wanted nothing to do with him, but kept him anyway, due to the wishes of Albus Dumbledore. They put some blankets on the bottom of their cupboard underneath the stairs, and called that Harry's new bedroom.

But this was not his room for very long.

It all started when Harry and Dudley were three years old. The entire family was in the sitting room, the adults watching the television, and Dudley playing with his toys. Harry sat quietly.

At that moment, Dudley was playing with two toy trucks, and many action figures, which Dudley would run over. Harry wanted to play too.

Dudley had quite a lot of action figures, and there were a few that he wasn't using. Harry didn't think Dudley would mind if he played with just one.

Harry was wrong.

When Dudley saw him grab the toy, he immediately pulled it away from his cousin's grasp, them hit him. Hard.

Vernon and Petunia watched the exchange between the boys, unconcerned. In their minds, their nephew was a freak and deserved to be treated badly.

But then everything changed.

Harry was on his hands and knees, shaking and moaning, as if he was in deep pain. They assumed it was his way of throwing a tantrum, or trying to get attention. His breath was short and quick, and finally he let loose a terrible, anguished scream and collapsed to the floor.

A few seconds later, the boy got up, his breathing was normal, and everything seemed fine.

Until they saw his eyes.

Instead of their usual bright green, they were a startling blood red. He turned a deadly glare on Dudley, and spoke no louder than a whisper. "Give it to me."

Luckily, Dudley had some common sense, even though he was three, and quietly handed over the toy. Harry had an evil smile on his face, and gave a small laugh.

Meanwhile, there was panic in the boy's mind. Something had taken over him, making his body do and say things he never would have done before. He could only watch himself frighten Dudley. He tried to get back into control, feeling pain as he did it, but eventually, his eyes returned to their normal emerald green.

They all stared at him with wide eyes, terrified that it would happen again. And it did.

Whenever Harry became angry or upset, the red eyes would take over. He was moved out of the cupboard and into Dudley's second bedroom, he was allowed to play with any of Dudley's toys, and his Uncle and Aunt were willing to get him almost anything. The Dursley's didn't want the red eyes to come back.

And Harry was confused. He didn't know if he should be thankful for the red eyes, because he now had some items to call his own, sad, because the Dursleys were never going to treat him normally, or frightened, because the red eyes hurt him so much, and when they took over had no control over himself.

He chose to be terrified.

He was a smart boy, and started trying to figure out ways to keep himself from getting upset. The result was the emotionless state he was in when he was six. Of course, there where some times when he couldn't hold his emotions in any longer, and the red eyes visited again.

Harry's blank expression did not go unnoticed by his teacher, Ms. Rolling, who would often ask him if he was okay, and eventually called Aunt Petunia asking if this was normal behavior.

Another thing that didn't go unnoticed was his lack of friends. The other kids thought he was strange, and some were even a little afraid of him, and Harry had no desire to make friends. He was sure that he would eventually get upset if he had a friend, and the red eyes would take over. He didn't want to hurt anyone.

Ms. Rolling tried had to get Harry to go play with the other kids, but it never worked. She knew the boy would need someone to talk to, and decided that she would be a friend to Harry.

As the other students went out for recess, she pulled him aside.

"Harry, would you like to stay inside with me today?"

Harry gave her a confused look, wondering if there was anything he did wrong, or anything that she would want to talk to him about. He couldn't think of anything, and gave her a small nod.

Ms. Rolling smiled at him. "Great!"

She had them sit at a table, facing across from each other.

"So Harry, what do you like to do when you're not at school?"

The boy thought for a moment. "I read a lot," he said quietly, "and I like to draw."

"Should I get you some paper? Do you want to draw as you talk to me?" Harry nodded, liking that idea. She set some crayons in front of him, along with a sheet of paper. As he drew, he leaned over the page, so she couldn't see what he was drawing.

"What books do like to read?" She asked, expecting it to be a picture book. But instead he responded with, "The Secrets of Droon."

It wasn't a very popular book series, but she knew that it was a book a nine year old would normally read. Not a six year old.

"Does your Aunt read it to you?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I read it to myself."

Now she found herself interested. None of the other kids in the class could read very well; they were still learning.

"What do like most about the books?"

"The magic." There was no hesitation as he said it. He automatically knew that the magic was his favorite part of the series. And then he smiled. It was a small smile, and he only did it for a second, but that was the very first time she had ever seen him show any form of happiness. It gave her a warm feeling inside, and made her happy too. Also, she now had a topic to talk to him about.

"What would you want to be able to do if you had magic?"

This made him stop drawing for a moment. What would he want to do with it? If he were a normal boy, he probably would say that he would want to shoot fire from a magic wand, or something similar. But, he was not a normal boy, and he didn't want to do something that the red eyes could use against him.

Something helpful, not harmful.

"It would be nice to turn invisible." He finally said, and continued with his drawing. Ms. Rolling smiled. "Why would you like to do that?" He looked at her and sat up straight, as he was now finished with his drawing. "It couldn't hurt people."

Before she responded, he slid his paper over to her. She looked down at his now finished drawing, and couldn't believe her eyes. It was a picture of her, and although it was done in crayon, she felt like she was looking in a mirror. He had gotten her short brown hair and blue eyes exactly right. Harry was a natural artist.

"This is wonderful, Harry." And just like that, he had his very first friend.

As Harry continued his years in Primary school, he continued to be friends with Ms. Rolling. He would come to her room to have lunch, and visited her after school had ended. She was the only one who had ever seen him smile more than once, and she was probably one of the only people who had ever heard him laugh since the first time the red eyes came.

She had also seen him angry.

Two boys had been teasing Harry after school when he was eight. One had dirty blond hair, the other with dark brown.

"You're such a freak!" Blond boy had told him. "I don't know why Dudley said we shouldn't mess with you; you never do anything!"

"Yeah," Brown boy agreed, "I bet you wouldn't do anything even if I pushed you like this." And the boy shoved Harry to the ground.

Ms. Rolling saw this happen, but it was too late; Harry was loosing control.

From the ground Harry's breathing became quick and shallow. Blond boy stood over him. "Is the freak crying?" He taunted, but Harry's scream shut him up.

Ms. Rolling had gotten to the boys by the time Harry had picked himself up, his eyes the frightening blood red. He turned to face the two boys. "I'm a freak?" He spoke in his deadly whisper, making shivers run down Ms. Rolling's back.

Harry grabbed the collar of blond boys shirt, and pulled him to stare straight into red eyes. "I dare you to say that again."

Ms. Rolling tried to separate Harry from the boy, but he wouldn't budge. It was as if Harry was made of stone.

"Don't kill me!" Blond boy whimpered, positive he was going to die. Instead, Harry shoved him to the ground, just like what had happened to him. Harry then turned to face brown boy. "If you know what is good for you, you will run. Now." And the boy ran, blonde boy following him.

Harry collapsed again, and after a few seconds his eyes turned back to normal. He turned to face Ms. Rolling, panic etched into his face. "I didn't hurt anyone, did I?" Harry hadn't gotten a response by the time he was in tears, both pitying himself and the boys. "I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry!"

Ms. Rolling pulled him close to her, and though she didn't know what had happened to him, she could understand that he didn't mean it, and couldn't control it.

"It's alright, it's okay; I won't let you hurt anyone." She chanted, now understanding why he was so afraid of his own emotions.

AUTHORS NOTE:

IMPORTANT PLEASE READ!

I want to know whether or not you think James and Lily should be alive in this story.

I think it would be interesting to write about their reactions to Harry being possessed by Voldemort. But, if you think his parents should be dead in this story, that's fine with me.

I know that this chapter is a bit boring, but it will get better. I promise.

Also, I have no idea when I will update this story. I promise I will write more, but I don't want this story to feel like a chore instead of a hobby. I will wr

THANKS SO MUCH FOR READING MY FIRST CHAPTER!

Like it? Hate it? Continue it? Delete it? Read it. REVIEW it.

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