Chapter one: The shocks

My name is Harry Potter and I'm going to tell you why I hate the wizarding world. I hate it, I hate those that adore it more, and I hate its governor and politicians the most. Oh, and I'm going to make them pay for what they have done. I'm going to crush them. They are not going to know what hit them until it's too late. Oh, look at me, I'm grinning from ear to ear. Oh, well if you knew what I know, you would have laughed aloud and risked angering Uncle Vernon. Yes, it is better if I don't rush it and tell you all in its right place.

So, here is the beginning:

One of the greatest lessons that the Dursleys taught me is not to ask questions, but to find the answer yourself. You want to know who the Dursleys is. Oh, well, opps…. I should have started somewhere else. Err, okay, so, here it is again:

I live with my mum's sister, Petunia, her husband Vernon and their wale of son Dudley or according to my dearest (please note the sarcasm) auntie pumpkins, Duders, Ickle diddykins, pick whichever you want. Yes, as I'm sure you can guess my aunt and uncle despise me as much as they love and adore their son. Even though Dudley and I are the same age, he is thrice larger than I am. So, when I am wearing his hand me down clothes, I'm wearing very big and off color rags, which is blessing as much as it is cursing. Because it can hide my bruises easily, it has stopped other kids from befriending me, it makes running away from bullies harder, and it makes stealing food and other things easier. It makes neighbors and passengers think of me as a freak with only one look.

The Dursleys first rule is not to ask questions. (I should probably tell you that these rules are only for me.) So, I know nothing about myself until I went to primary school. Nothing, not even my name. They always call me BOY. Going to primary school had its own benefits and problems. It was a place for me to learn, and not just reading and writing, but also learning my name, my parents name and my birthday. It was also somewhere outside house that I could be without angering Uncle Vernon. Nevertheless, there was Dudley and his gang that their favorite game was 'Harry and/or anyone who dared to befriend him' the punching bag.

Any way, the exciting part has not begun yet.

One day, when I was six, I was ordered to clean the master bedroom. And I found a very strange letter. It was written on a parchment by green ink. So, as expected I read it. It was about me. It explained how my parents died, why I had a scar, why I was with the Dursleys, what I am and so many other things that I didn't understand at the time and some of which I don't understand even now. I copied the letter and hide the copy under my oversize clothe. Later that evening when I had time, I read it truly. It explained many things and answered many of my questions, but it also made too many new questions. The only things that I understood that day was:

There is a wizarding world.

I am a wizard.

My parents were murdered by an evil wizard who was looking for me.

This man the writer of the letter, Albus Dumbledore left me at the Dursleys to be protected, but I am being abused.

I was famous and adored by many witches and wizards because I vanquished my parents murderer.

This wizard, Albus Dumbledore is going to pay very dearly for this action of his that was against my parents wishes.

For a weak I was in shock. I couldn't think clearly or even do my chores right, so I received too many beatings and nearly no food. After that weak, I was looking for a sign to tell me that it was real. And I really am a wizard. It took me two months for me to find something. It was my mother's school trunk. It was full of books about magic, moving picture of my parents. It was blessing from heaven. I hid pictures in my bedroom, which is the cupboard under the stairs. It became my safe heaven for when I was in pain from beatings or when I became too jealous of Dudley. And the books became my company, my friends. I would bring them to my cupboard one by one and memorized each one. Some of the spells were easy enough for me to do even without a wand. In six months, I memorized all of them, bat it took nearly two year for me to be able to do each one of them without a wand. I couldn't wait for the day it was my turn to go to Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry. I could learn magic and more importantly, I could be away from the Dursleys.

It was not enough crime for the wizarding world that they left me, an orphan boy in an abusive household. No, I had to discover something else and more terrible. Because even though I could blame the Dursleys for my terrible childhood, I cannot blame anyone else but those bastards' wizards and witches. And I hate every one of them. Oh, you want to know what they have done. They have done the most unforgivable act.

One day when I was eight, on Dudley's birthday, I was left with Mrs. Figg, the old widow that leaves in neighbor while they took Dudley and one of his friends to London for celebrating the day. That day one of Mrs. Figg cats was sick. So, Mrs. Figg sent me to play on the back yard instead of giving me the usual tea and cats' album. In that garden, I got my third biggest shock of my life. There were magical herbs. And it wasn't by accident. Some of them, the one with most potential, were cut as though they were being used for something, like some kind of potion. The only reason that I could have had, was; Mrs. Figg is magical. From that day on when ever I would have gone to her house, I would have searched her house to find something to verify my reasoning. It took me a whole month to do it and I found some very disturbing thing. I found she had always added some kind of healing and nutrition potion to my tea, so she knew about my abusive relatives. To add to her crimes I discovered she was Dumbledore's lackey.

But why heal me instead of taking me away from them? Why stand still at shadows and watch them when they are abusing me? Why not encourage me to tell the authorities? Why heal me with magic, so even if I want, I can't tell the authorities?

They may not be the ones that abuse me, but they want me to be abused. Why? Why would anyone be so cruel to let an innocent orphan boy be abused?

I hate them. I hate them. I hate them more than I ever imagined is possible. I hate them so much that whenever I think about it, I cannot even breathe. I hate those bastards.

Even know after two years, I cannot think of any reason that can describe their actions. Even though I know what they hope to accomplish from these unforgivable acts of theirs.

After I discovered the wizarding world treachery, I become obsessed with some way to pay them back. So, I searched for something that could lead me, some sort of sign. And I found it in the Dursleys basement.

Chapter two: beginning to set a trap