Chapter One
Little Whinging, Surrey
Number 4, Privet Drive
July 26, 1995
11:45:38 pm
Harry Potter, age fifteen, sat at his desk in front of his window, a piece of parchment laid on the desk in front of him. In one hand, he held a quill and in the other he held a small slip of paper. Hedwig hooted at him from her cage and he gave her a small smile. "Don't you worry, Hedwig," the teen whispered. "This will open their eyes whether they don't want them opened. After this is sent, we'll leave, okay?"
She hooted again.
He gave her another smile, then turned back to his writing.
Three hours later, he finished.
Two minutes later, there were copies for every witch and wizard in Britain.
Three minutes later, all letters were in envelopes.
One minute later, all letters were being sent.
And less than three minutes later, Harry was gone from Number 4, Privet Drive, never to return.
Malfoy Manor, Dining Room
8:30:29 am
The Malfoys sat at the dining table, eating their breakfast silently and with an air of grace that even other purebloods were envious of. The sound of wings flapping were heard and all three looked up as an owl appeared, the Daily Prophet in its talons. It landed on the table gracefully, setting the newspaper in front of the Malfoy patriarch, snuck a piece of bacon off his plate, then flew off. The Malfoy patriarch raised an eyebrow but picked the newspaper nonetheless.
His eyebrows went up even further.
"What is it, dear?" Narcissa asked.
Lucius cleared his throat and read, "Letter from Potter causes mayhem across Britain."
"What does that mean?" Draco questioned.
"Let me read the whole thing aloud," the older blonde said. He cleared his throat again and began.
"Dear Wizarding Britain,
You all know me. Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, the savior, the beacon of light, etc. You've set me up on a pedestal, one which I never though I would be able to just clamber off of and run from, and thrust all your troubles on me. With Voldemort now back, the Ministry not believing me, and Death Eaters trying to kill me, I thought I might as well make this letter to you all before I left. This will be a letter with a story, a story about a little boy, who went by many names, but never Harry Potter.
After the death of his parents, baby Harry was set on the doorstep of his relatives, the Dursleys', who was his mother's relations. His aunt, Harry's mother's sister, had despised his mother after his mother was found out to be a witch. His mother and father were never talked about in his relative's house, and if they were ever mentioned, they would insult them. "You're mother was a whore of a bitch." "You're father was a no-good drunk who got your mother and him killed." "Both of your parents never loved you, that's why you were stuck with us after they were killed in the car crash." The young boy nev er knew the truth, that his mother and father had been a witch and a wizard and that he, himself, was a wizard.
Harry Potter believed himself to be a freak for the first eleven years of his life. Until the age of six, he had thought his name had been Freak or Boy. When the Hogwarts letter came, his aunt and uncle freaked out and told he wasn't going. When the groundskeeper, Hagrid, came to collect him and told him he was a wizard, that was when the young boy found out the truth.
He was a wizard.
He wasn't a freak like his aunt and uncle said.
He was unique.
But being unique wasn't all it turned out to be. His first year at Hogwarts, the safest school in Britain, wasn't safe at all. His soon-to-be-friend Hermione Granger was almost killed by a troll that he and Ronald Weasley together worked to bring down. At the end of the year, he was almost killed trying to get the sorcerer's stone from the Mirror of Erised so Voldemort, who had been possessing Quirell, couldn't get it.
His second year, he found out he was a parselmouth. He was horrified that it was a gift that was terrified of people. The basilisk was let loose in the school and students, including his friend Hermione Granger, was petrified. He, along with his friend Ron, as well as the fraud Gilderoy Lockhart, he set out to find the Chamber of Secrets. Lockhart tried to do an Obligate on them using Ron's broken wand, but if backfired and hit him, causing a cave in as well. Harry was trapped on the other side and, scared out of his wits, traisped forwards. He came across Ginny Weasley, passed out and near death, by a sixteen-year-old looking Tom Riddle.
He dueled against him.
He fought the basilisk.
He was bit by the basilisk and Fawks the phoenix cried his tears.
The summer before third year he blew his aunt Marge as large as a balloon, which caused the Ministry of Magic to send him a notice. When his uncle found put he couldn't do magic outside of school, he beat him senseless. He ran away to the Leaky Cauldron, where he paid for a room and spent the rest of the summer there. When the Weasleys arrived, he learned that Sirius Black, an escaped convict, was after him.
"Whatever you do, Harry, don't go after him," Arthur Weasley had told him.
Why did everyone think he went looking for trouble? Trouble found him, not the other way around.
Skip through the rest of third year and past fourth year, which was just a month ago. He was entered into the Triwizard Tournament even if he hadn't put his name in. His friends left him to deal with it in his own, which he did. He told himself, "Most people are wanting me to fail. Most people are wanting me to die. Let's prove them wrong."
And he did.
But at a cost.
Voldemort was resurrected and no one believed him.
So, once again, he was sent back to his relatives, where his uncle beat and raped him, his aunt threw things at his head, and his cousin tried to heal him.
By now, once this letter has reached everyone in Wizarding Britain, I will be gone from my relatives. I'll be staying with a friend of mine that isn't Ron or Hermione but one you would never expect.
When you want to sincerely apologise for all you did, including you Dumbledore, send me a letter.
Harry Potter."
The room was quiet.
"Well," Draco said slowly, "should we tell Tom?"