A/N: Hello, people!

I don't own Harry Potter. Quotes from the movie aren't mine.

I have no beta.

ENJOY!

CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.

-There is attempted rape in this first chapter. No, there will be no detail in that(as I could never write out such a thing). But it shapes his future. His future teeters between bleak and good. And all non-con stuff happens off screen because I will not write out those scenes.

-The first few chapters follow the third book closely. You have been warned properly I hope. Things do eventually change a shit ton though.

-This chapter had been under a second revision as of June 4th 2016. I added more detail and fixed the mistakes that I could see. Mind you, I hate Grammar so not everything is fixed and I'm sure the Grammar Nazi's will still hiss a fit. Nevertheless, I endeavored to find and fix my errors. I also attempted to Brit this out more now that I can finally say my British vocabulary is passable.

He didn't know how it happened! It had been a normal day for him. A day where he was avoiding his 'family' like one would avoid the Bubonic Plague. How did he achieve this? He stayed outside for several hours and refused to return, even when hunger gripped him like a vulture latching onto its unsuspecting prey. He didn't want anything to do with his 'family' and they surely didn't want him around any more than usual. It was like a silent agreement between them and Harry couldn't be more grateful for once.

He had taken to remaining outside for hours upon hours. And he even went so far as to use his 'freedom' to help the neighbors who didn't think he was a 'freak' or a 'disgraceful bastard'. By doing this, he ensured that he had a few pounds in his pocket and would have it to either buy himself a drink or an actual meal when he made enough. He wasn't picky and simply cracked down on his own. And with Dudley still a bit terrified of him and his magic, he was mostly free of his enormous cousin's gang. Harry Hunting was no longer the game of choice on Privet Drive. They had to turn their attentions elsewhere.

Harry had gotten used to staying outside until nine, where he would return to 4 Privet Drive and immediately sequester himself in his room. He did not pay his 'family' any mind and ignored them to the best of his ability. They let him be for the most part, because his accidental magic had been acting up and he'd been able to focus it enough to make a small threat and get his point across. Aunt Petunia was 'gracious enough' to follow through with his request after that incident.

It was on a particularly muggy night in late July, that the strangest and most uncomfortable thing had happened to the Boy-Who-Lived. And Harry had been trough a lot of bloody things in the past two years, so this certainly was bad if all things were considered.

It was nearing nine and he knew his aunt would go spare if he was late and ended up waking the sleeping members of the house. While she wasn't as annoying as she used to be, she could still shriek and whinge like the best of them and he really didn't want t deal with her caterwauling so late in the evening. He barely had enough time to jog down the street.

It was dark and much too hot for Harry's liking. It had been like that a lot lately, he noticed. Summer had decided to come in with a massive wave of heat and following it up, was sweat. The only downside in Harry's opinion. He was surrounded by nearly unbearable heat at every moment.

Just as he passed an alley, something grabbed a hold of his collar and yanked him into the surrounding darkness. Harry could not see his attacker and struggled against the strong arms that had him pinned. One thick arm wrapped around his own arms, keeping him from flailing like he wanted to, and the hand from the other was holding his mouth shut. There was a leather glove on said hand and Harry knew that biting would be futile. It smelled horrible too. He was a Gryffindor but he wasn't stupid to try something when he didn't have the advantage nor a method of escape available.

He tried to move and kick his feet out. Tried to get away, but this man was too strong. And Harry knew it was a male, because he knew that very few women had such muscular torsos and arms and would be able to dwarf Harry's size that much! This man was dangerous. This man was going to hurt him!

There was a rhythmic and deep shushing near his ear, proving that it definitely was a man who was restricting his movement. He shivered for some reason, uncomfortable with the breathing against the shell of his ear. It was hot and made him squirm in displeasure.

"I've been watching you for the past week," the man breathed in a near whisper, making him shiver in revulsion. There was something off about his tone. Something told him that this man wasn't magical in the least. But you didn't need to be magical in order to be dangerous, Harry knew that very well.

"You, with your pretty green eyes like I've never seen before. Your thin, little body so innocent looking. Even those dorky glasses you wear seem to just make you look so sweet. I want to taste you."

Taste him?! Why?! And how?! And more importantly, why?! What was wrong with this stranger? Was he a cannibal?! How the bloody hell did a cannibal go unnoticed?

Harry couldn't do anything as the strange man pulled him even deeper into the alley and forced him to the ground. With some maneuvering, Harry was pinned on his back, to the dirt of the alley, his arms forced behind him until he was laying on them as well. The man let out an odd sound that creeped the teen out even more.

"You're so lean and flexible. Perfect," he crooned, waving a long blade in Harry's face.

The teen's eyes went wide, locking on the weapon instantly. Was he about to be tortured?! Would his face be carved into a disfigured grin?

"Now, you aren't going to scream, are you? We wouldn't want to hurt your pretty little body now would we?" the man asked with a creepy smile. Though Harry could barely see him, he could see the blue eyes and the bright teeth of this monster. And they unnerved him greatly. And he wasn't pretty!

He shook his head in answer to the questions that didn't seem to need an answer. The man ceased his trailing of the blade across his chest and lifted it away. Harry's heart pounded rapidly against his rib cage. It wasn't over, he was sure of it.

"Good boy. Now, I want you to remain quiet and let me have my fun. Can you do that, beautiful? Will you let me enjoy our time together?"

Harry was still staring at the blade, contemplating what would happen if he were to scream. Most of the neighbors did not like him and would probably get the wrong idea about this sort of situation. With the lies his 'family' spat, they'd think it was some sort of sick game he liked to play. Idiots, the lot of them.

And the strange things the man was saying, scared him. More than the thought of facing Voldemort again. More than nearly dying in the Chamber of Secrets. More than anything. What about eating and fun? What kind of fun was he talking about? Harry was sure that he wasn't going to think it was fun. Cannibalism did not sound like fun in his opinion.

"Beautiful…" the man drawled, bringing the blade closer to his face.

Harry nodded suddenly, acquiescing to the man's previous questions/demands.

There was a full smile and a chuckle. "You are such a good boy, aren't you, beautiful? What's your name, love?"

Love? Why was this man calling him 'love'? Wasn't that something that married couples called one another?

"H-harry," he stuttered out, still worried about the blade. It was serrated. He would know. He had to use many of them in his childhood.

"Harry," the man hummed with strong emphasis. "Is that short for something or is it just that?"

"Hadrian," Harry answered instantly, not liking the fact that there was something sharp digging into his cheek.

"Ahh... Hadrian. I rather like that. Yes, my little Hadrian. My good boy," the man praised with a smile.

"And how old are you, Hadrian?"

With eyes still on the blade, "Thirteen in a couple of days."

Why the bloody hell did he say that?! Merlin, was he just asking for this creep to stalk him?!

"Oooh! A birthday boy as well. Yes, I think I'll give you a nice gift for being so good for me. Now remember to be quiet, love."

Again with the 'love' business. He didn't understand. Didn't want to understand. He just wanted the strange man to go away and leave him alone. To stop calling him a 'good boy' and to just disappear. He wanted his wand. He wanted to be with his friends. He wanted Hogwarts. He'd even take Snape! He just wanted to be anywhere else but here with this strange man who was doing and saying strange things.

A hand on his stomach had him tensing. What was going to happen to him? Was the man going to use the knife and torture him with it? Would he be gutted and have to watch as his intestines were ripped out? Was it possible to even live through that?

He was shaking and faintly he could hear his heart beating harder and harder. He could practically feel it pounding in his chest. Loud and hard. It felt like it would beat right out of him!

The hand dipped lower and rubbed right across his abdomen and then over his trousers, touching him there! Why was this man touching him in such a place?! And why was he smiling like he was happy about it? That was creepy! Didn't heknow that he wasn't supposed to touch people there?! Did he not care?

The man's hand pulled at the zipper and button. And then he was pulling Harry's trousers down, making the teen panic. Why was he touching him there? Weren't only women supposed to do stuff like that to men? And only when they were married?

This situation seemed similar to something he read once, but he couldn't remember what it was called. And the thing it reminded him of, happened with a girl and a guy and not two males!

Wait! Did men do things like that with each other? Things that married people did? Was that even allowed?! And he was pretty sure that grown up people weren't supposed to touch kids and teens like this man as touching Harry.

Not only was he scared and repulsed, but he was worried about what would happen and disgusted that a bloke he didn't know was touching his… that!

He didn't know why, but he felt dirty. Almost like this man was infecting him with some disease. Like his touch carried some form of malady that would never go away.

Now the man's hands was fully touching him! Holding him! Why?! Why did he feel the need to shove his hand down Harry's pants a grab his... penis?

His breathing was coming in quicker. He thought he was going to die from lack of air. But at least he wouldn't be able to feel and see the strange man anymore.

It was hot and air wasn't coming into his lungs like it was supposed to. His head was pounding. Throbbing. Maybe he'd pass out and never wake up. He'd suffered headaches form the heat several times during the holiday.

There was a pressure on his chest and he saw the man's free hand, rubbing circles.

"Shhh… it's okay. I promise you'll enjoy it, Hadrian. I said it would be a nice gift for being good for me."

Enjoy what?!

The man was touching him too much! Way too much! He wanted it to stop! To go away!

His eyes burned with what he assumed to be tears. He locked gazes with the man and let out a squeak of horror when the man's blue eyes rolled back and he collapsed backwards, hand finally free from Harry's person.

The teen shifted away in relief, grabbing the blade as he went. He then rolled to his feet and situated himself while keeping an eye on the man. What had happened? Had he accidentally used his magic to knock the guy out? Not that he was complaining or anything! But he really couldn't handle another threat from the Ministry.

He stared down at the body, feeling uneasy when it didn't move. Harry stepped closer. Bending down a bit, he could see the man's eyes were still open as well as his mouth, but he wasn't moving. In fact, Harry was sure he wasn't breathing. His chest lay still.

Oh no! Did he use accidental magic to kill the guy?

Harry panicked again. What would happen? How would this blow over? Somehow, he would get blamed for this! He got blamed for everything! Coming 'home' covered in dirt and looking like a disheveled mess would send off alarms. And then the information of a dead body being found that would no doubt be getting out to the district, would immediately put his aunt off. She'd be suspicious and would blame it on him because he was the acting scapegoat on Privet Drive!

So not only had he killed a guy, but he was in so much trouble. If only he could get rid of the body! But there was no way to do it!

Harry jumped away when the body suddenly was aflame. Black fire that was tinted a deep shade of purple, covered the man's body and then disappeared, leaving nothing behind. Not even a scorch mark on where it happened. If Harry hadn't been staring at the spot, he would have forgotten where the man had been.

What the bloody hell was that?! He was sure that he had done that! Why was his magic going so wonky all of a sudden? Not only had he just killed someone, but he managed to burn the boy and leave no evidence.

Oh Merlin! Oh Merlin! Oh Merlin! Oh Merlin! Oh Merlin! OH MERLIN!

He would be in so much trouble if anyone found out!

He backed out of the alley, intent on getting back to the Dursley's and to his room where he could promptly go mad in peace.

He walked stiffly, with jerky movements. He also made sure to walk directly in the middle of the street. That way he'd see and hear any attackers before they'd have a chance to surprise him.

He reached the house a few moments later and let himself in. It was dark, which meant that Petunia actually had left the door unlocked for him and went to bed! Why she did so, he'd never know, but he didn't question it.

In the fridge was a very small portion of dinner for him. A large piece of bread, a small apple, and half a bottle of water. She was feeling generous that evening, for some strange reason.

He found out why, moments later.

On the counter, was a note addressed to him.

Boy,

Vernon's sister Marge will be visiting tomorrow and staying for the week.

You will not be permitted to leave the house without doing the chores or

cooking Marge's favorite meals. Also, remember to purchase the special

food for Ripper and have all of his toys cleaned ahead of time.

Do not disappoint, boy!

Great! Not only did he have the death of some stranger on his mind, but he'd have to wake up early and prepare the house for Marge's visit. He hated her! She was a monster and always let her bulldog, Ripper do whatever he wanted to Harry.

That was why Petunia was so giving with his dinner. Because even Petunia wasn't the biggest fan of Marge and her loud bulldog.

Cursing internally, Harry devoured the food, washed the plate, and turned off the light. He then quietly went to his room and threw himself on his bed and annoyance.

The events of the last half hour caught up with him and the Boy-Who-Lived buried his head in his folded arms and cried for reasons he couldn't even understand. He cried for life. For the man who tried to harm him. For no reason other than the fact that it made him feel better. He just cried.

Harry never bothered to go to the bathroom before secluding himself in his room for the night. If he did, however, he would have seen two piercing, yellow eyes staring back at him when he looked in the mirror.

Harry awoke the next morning, feeling too hot for words. It was scorching in his room, but he couldn't understand why. He stumbled to his feet and shook himself. Waving a hand toward himself, he tried to get air, but it wasn't working.

A black shape made him jerk in surprise and he nearly screamed when he saw his arm was on fire! His actual arm!

And the fire was spreading! It was hot! It didn't burn, but it was still hot and Harry groaned as the fire spread up his arms and across his shoulders to his other arm. It traveled down his back and legs and finally, he was one burning mess. Every muscle was on fire without any pain, but the heat was too much!

Harry fainted from the rapid escalation of his body temperature.

Harry awoke an hour later, feeling well rested. Of course he then remembered what happened to cause him to sleep again and as he looked at himself wildly, he could see no black fire. Nothing at all. But what he could see, was everything.

His glasses were on the desk and yet he could see everything around him clearly. Why?

Was this another spurt of accidental magic? Had he somehow repaired his eyes? Was that even possible?

Harry decided to check his eyes in the bathroom and went about his business.

He looked fine. More than fine really. His hair seemed a bit longer, to his shoulders, and a lot silkier. His eyes still seemed unnaturally green, though he noticed his complexion wasn't a sickly sort of pale anymore. More milky than sickly.

His ribs weren't sticking out either.

Just what had happened to him?

Harry took a quick shower and dressed for the soon to be strenuous day. He had a lot of cleaning to do. Marge was picky and he really didn't want to hear her whinging over how it wasn't to her ridiculous standards.

Ignoring Dudley's weird gaping, Harry set about making breakfast.

She was a vile creäture! Despicable! He officially hated Marge Dursley and perfectly understood well why she never married. No one would want to be sidled with her for the rest of their days. No one! She was a grumpy old spinster that turned people's stomachs.

The old bitch dared to insult his parents! His mother in particular! How dare she! She had no right! And then to say that Petunia was better! Hell No! Petunia was probably one of the worst guardians a child could have.

The old bitch knew nothing of his parents! NOTHING!

Harry's anger was so strong, so powerful, he unconsciously inflated the beastly woman and sent her floating out the door that lead to the terrace. Vernon had tried desperately to keep her grounded, but it didn't work and he fell into a bush as his sister floated away like a hot air balloon. She certainly looked like one, not that his magic had done much other than make her dirigible.

He'd had it. Stomping through the house, he found the key for the cupboard and yanked all of his things out. He then dug for his wand and pulled it out, facing Vernon who had managed to get back to his feet and pull himself from the bush in order to threaten Harry.

"You bring her back! You bring her back now! You put her right!" the walrus like man demanded.

Harry scoffed, "No, I won't! She deserved what she got!" He neglected to inform the man that he actually didn't have a way to get her back, but he didn't need to know that. Harry didn't give a damn what happened to the woman thenceforth. Didn't care if she floated into outer space. At least she was gone.

"Why you little-!"

Harry raised his wand even higher and the fat man backed away slightly. "Keep away from me!" the boy threatened.

"You're not supposed to do magic outside school," the man sneered, looking like the cat that had caught the canary.

Harry scoffed once more. "Oh yeah? Try me?" he challenged.

Going up to his room, he packed what he had into his trunk and grabbed Hedwig's empty cage. Stomping back down the stairs, he slammed the front door open and walked out into the evening, not caring in the least about what happened to Marge.

Stopping at a bus stop a few blocks from Privet Drive, he plopped onto a bench and sighed. Not one of his better ideas. Now what was he supposed to do? Did he wait for morning where he'd catch a cab to the Leaky Cauldron, or just start walking now? And what would happen to him? Would the Ministry be alerted to this? Would he be arrested?

The snapping of a twig caught his attention and he jerked, looking to the left suddenly. In the bushes, about ten feet from his current position, was what he assumed to be a dog. A very large, black dog.

And it was growling at him!

Before he could react, a loud screeching noise alerted him of an oncoming vehicle, which made him jump back when a large triple decker bus appeared out of nowhere, on the street in front of him.

That was the moment that Harry met Stanley Shunpike and learned of the Knight Bus.

Harry did not like riding the Knight Bus. It was too fast, too bumpy, and too smelly. The conductor, Stan, was odd, and there was a creepy, shrunken head that talked with a Jamaican accent. And he learned that there was an escaped convict that was apparently mad and powerful, roaming about the wizarding world. Wonderful.

When they reached the Leaky Cauldron, Harry could only be grateful it was over. Tom, the barkeeper of the Leaky Cauldron, stepped onto the bus and smiled. "Mr. Potter!"

Harry was escorted from the bus and the man grabbed his things for him.

He followed the man into the inn and through the dining area and up the stairs.

Harry was shown to a room and to his surprise, Hedwig was sitting there, waiting for him. He was happy to see her well and gave her head a nice pat. She let loose a small bark and nipped his fingers affectionately.

The next moment, he was introduced to Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic. Mr. Fudge knew of Harry's magical outburst with Vernon's sister, but nothing about the strange man the evening prior. He didn't know whether to be happy or sad about that.

He was taken to task, over running away, not for blowing someone up like a balloon! What was wrong with the wizarding world, he wondered.

That was until he found out that the Minister was worried about him encountering the mad convict who was on the loose.

He then learned that the man had purchased all of his school books for him as some sort of belated birthday gift.

Harry was escorted from the room then, barely able to give the man a proper, 'thank you' as he went.

The next day, Harry went to Gringotts and had to prove that he was himself, since he didn't have his key. The Goblins demanded some blood, which he was reluctant to give, but really needed to do so to get a key. He needed money.

At the suggestion of Griphook, whom he had shocked by remembering very clearly and being respectful to, he got a new key made for his vault.

That way, he'd have it on him always. He also learned about bank statements and the wizard version of checks. Since he couldn't get Vernon to sign the permission slip for Hogsmeade, he'd have to go with the next best thing, which was mail ordering items from the small town.

Working out what he needed, he was then told to demonstrate a particular spell so that their correspondence would be proven by him knowing which spell he cast. He was not to tell anyone else about it either. Gringotts allowed magic of all species and ages to be performed if the person in question had the permission of a goblin.

Harry went for Avis, creating a small flock of birds. There was problem right after he cast it though. His wand burned!

Looking down, he could see a large scorch mark around where his hand had been.

Griphook gave him a confused look, but did not question anything. Once everything was settled, Harry was able to retrieve gold from his account and go buy the necessities.

The situation with his wand gotten his attention and he decided that Ollivander needed a visit.

Stepping into the shop, he waited for the weird, old man to appear suddenly. He didn't disappoint. The man looked at him for only a second before rattling off, "Mr. Potter. Holly, eleven inches, Phoenix Feather. Nice and supple. What can I help you with?"

Harry placed his wand on the counter. "I tried to do a spell at Gringotts and I burnt the wand. I don't know what happened. It was just Avis," he stated with a frown.

The old wizard looked at the wand for a moment, before picking it up and placing it to his ear.

"Oh dear. The wood no longer agrees with you. And the feather, though agreeing perfectly fine, is demanding something be added to it. It seems I'm going to have to take this wand apart and construct a whole new one for you, Mr. Potter."

Those cloudy eyes landed on his, making him nervous.

"You've changed. Something inside of you is different. You now require a more powerful wand than before," the man said.

With a flick of his own wand, Ollivander pulled something long and red from the holly wand. He then placed it on the counter.

"The Phoenix Feather," he explained.

Ollivander left to the back and returned with a large platter, covered in all sorts of objects.

"Please run your hand over this and pick the one that feels right to you."

Harry shrugged and did so. None of them gave him feelings of any sorts and he shook his head.

"Always a tricky customer, Mr. Potter," Ollivander smiled.

He came back with a smaller platter, that only had four items on it. Harry's eyes immediately honed in on the fang and he grabbed it, feeling a warmth spread through his palm. "This is it," he said.

Ollivander was gaping as he took the fang from him and lined it out beside the feather.

"Curious, very curious. Phoenix Feather of life and Basilisk Fang of death."

Harry's eyes widened. "How ironic," he muttered.

Ollivander caught it. "Pardon?" he asked.

Harry sputtered, "It's just, uh, I killed a Basilisk last year, but was stabbed by a fang and would have died if a Phoenix hadn't cried on the wound."

Ollivander's face mirrored Harry's own, but he didn't say anything. He pulled a box from under the counter and opened the lid.

"Choose a wood."

Harry ran his hands over the various pieces of wood and frowned. None seemed to fit.

He paused over one and grabbed it tightly. He held it out to Ollivander, who looked pale.

"Yew."

The man set the three items aside and fixed Harry with an expectant look. "May I see your hand?"

Though he was confused, the teen held his right hand out.

Ollivander grabbed it and placed it to his ear, which had Harry gave him an odd look. Questioning if he'd gone lumpy yet.

He was nodding to himself then and smiled.

"Mr. Potter, may I use some of your blood as a bonder for the wand?"

"Why?" he couldn't help but ask.

"Because Basilisk venom and Phoenix tears currently run strong through your veins. They are changing you. Using your blood in the wand would make it more powerful and give you more access to your magic."

"I thought the venom was gone once Fawkes cried on the wound!"

"Oh, heavens no! The venom just isn't able to kill you now. It's still there. No one has ever lived after being bitten by a Basilisk, so there are so records of this ever occurring. Quite the exciting life you have, Mr. Potter! The venom is strong too!"

With a sigh, Harry allowed to wandmaker to take some of his blood. The next twenty minutes were spent watching the man chant and wave his wand over the collected pieces that were coated in his life essence.

There was a bright light and all that remained, was a long wand that was black in color and had a very fancy looking handle. All curved and smooth.

Ollivander stared at it in what seemed to be reverence. He gestured for Harry to pick it up and do something.

Harry grabbed it and gasped as a large amount of power coursed through his body. The tip of the wand glowed green, before dying down. He waved it and cast, "Avis."

The flocks of birds shot forth easily and he was happy when his wand wasn't smoking after the casting.

"Brilliant!" Ollivander cheered. "Now, it'll be a lot more expensive this time, for the changes made."

Harry shrugged. "It's okay. Are those wand holsters?" he asked, looking at the far wall.

Harry was then instructed on the differences of the various wand holsters and what they could do for him. He settled for one that keyed into his magic and would be invisible to all but him. The reaction time was quick and he like the color green it was. "Wicked."

After spending thirty Galleons, Harry was finally able to return to the Leaky Cauldron.

Imagine his surprise when a couple of weeks later, he was nearly tripped by a cat chasing a rat down the hall outside his room and hearing the voices of his two best friends yelling at one another from downstairs.

A/N: So, this is the first chapter!

How was it? Let me know!

Check out my other fics.

See ya! :D

CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.