It was a stormy night.

Ok, that's a lie – it was a mildly drizzly evening in Surrey, England and all the suburb-dwellers were complaining to whoever would listen – that is to say, no-one but their family members. In Harrys case, he was forced to hear his uncles muttering through as rather thin cupboard door. Harry sighed and wriggled in his makeshift bed (a thin crib with the rails removed) to try and ease the tension in his back. Tension gained from hiding from his cousin's gang on the way home from the library - Harry scowled. Surely the fun of 'Harry Hunting' wore off after the first 50 times? Harry had begun to hate the feeling powerless, and tried to stay out of the other boys way as much as possible. He hid in the local library most evenings, unless he had chores to complete for the Dursleys. And he always had chores to complete for the Dursleys.

Harry wouldn't go as far as to say he was his relatives slave, he just washed, cooked and cleaned and got no credit for it. As much as he resented his mistreatment, he didn't hate the Dursleys – they still gave him food, clean(ish) clothes and didn't physically abuse him – the occasional ear boxing and frying pan swung his way didn't count. Besides, they were his family. He could never fully hate them, and they couldn't never really hurt him.

Despite this, Harry tended to keep certain things from his family. His mental prowess wasn't reflected in his report cards (tests were remarkably easy to fail on purpose), his cooking skills weren't shown in his cooking (as if he'd waste his knowledge on his ungrateful family – they wouldn't know the difference between cinnamon and nutmeg!) or his 'Powers'. But then again, no-one ever asked about him, so couldn't tell anyone anway.

Harry wasn't dim witted by any means, he was in fact extremely intelligent. He soaked up knowledge like a sponge, and by age 9 he felt he had a decent grasp of general knowledge.

And by decent grasp, he was able to perform and think as well as some university students in most academic subjects. Of course there were subjects he dislike, but he would study them as much as he could anyway. You never know, he'd think, might come in useful one day.

Harry also was talented in other areas: he could cook like as well as a master, and was fairly musically gifted. The Dursleys, of course, didn't want him to feel encouraged to pursue either hobbies, and had to make do with whatever time the school allocated for students to practice their 'creative' interests,

At any rate, Harry wasn't able to put any of his knowledge into practice that often.

His day was always the same for as long as he could remember: wake up, make breakfast, go to school, avoid attention, hide in the library, go home, clean, cook, and sleep. This was only ever interrupted by weekend stays at batty Ms Figgs, who seemed intent on making him a cat-person, or Marge 'the Marshmallow' visiting. Harry would have gone mad from this monotony, not for his books, and his 'Powers'.

Harry had discovered his 'Powers' accidently when he had flown onto the school roof when he was six. After being retrieved, and being severely scolded by the teachers, he had hidden himself in the park and meditated for what felt like hours. He had felt warmth grown in his chest, and when he had looked down, he was levitating a few inches off the ground. He had promptly crashed down. After 3 years or practice, he could now do a number of things; most importantly make himself unnoticeable. It only worked, he had found, if he had time to concentrate so he couldn't use it when he was being 'hunted'. But he could cause things to topple over, or make things seem to appear, change his hair length (discovered after his Aunt had tried to give him a terrible haircut) or even, if he concentrated really hard, change how things were. He had tried to look up an explanation for his abilities, but he couldn't find any answers. His logical mind didn't want to accept magic as the answer, so he stopped searching and just practiced what he could.

When he turned 10 (and received a broken hanger to hang his one coat up) Harry found he could talk to animals. Well, not talk, as much get impressions from certain animals. He felt like he could hold entire conversations with cats, dogs, birds and fish. He was wary around rodents, but could actually speak to reptiles! Harry had realised this with no small amount of excitement, but was soon punished for it – in his rarely felt joy, he had lost control of his 'Powers' and caused Dudley to fall into a snake enclosure. Not one of his finest moments. His uncle hadn't let out of his cupboard for any reason other than chores and bathroom breaks. Harry suffered in silence, not only because he felt he deserved it (A foolish slip, he chided himself I must always maintain control. I'm not some child, he would think to himself, completely ignoring his age) but also because he felt a change was coming. Despite being a more pessimistic child than most, he still felt hope as his 11th birthday drew near.

He could sense change. He just didn't know what it would be.

AN: So! First (hopefully) multi-chapted story, even if it does end up a little cliched - at least I tried? Right?

Weeeeelll if anyone wants to leave a review (Even if you just say 'Cool' or 'sucks' or 'give up') I'll appriciate it! Any critisism is needed!

See ya later ;)