Disclaimer: I own none of the distinctly HP characters or places mentioned in this story. Unfortunately, that honour still belongs to JK Rowling. The plot (or attempt at one) is mostly mine though.

At the age of 4 and a half Harry Potter, the saviour of the wizarding world was, like other wizards his age, starting to more frequently show the signs of his magic. The Dursleys found that insults, starvation and being locked in the small cupboard were no longer working to stop or even slow the rate of events down. In an act of desperation Vernon turned to beating the boy to just before the point where he would faint every few days and leaving him in his cupboard for the rest of the time. When he had a broken bone Vernon would take great pleasure in setting it as roughly as he could to keep him in pain. At no point after that was Harry free from the feeling but his tolerance against it built until Vernon could go for longer, harder sessions. What had started as a last resort had appealed the dark side of his nature and had turned into fun, a stress reliever.

By his 6th birthday Harry had hardened and was old enough to build up defences against the mental torture which Vernon used to spice up his 'lessons'. He realised that the Dursleys were never going to care for him but at the same time he knew that by holding out against Vernon for as long as he could he was winning the battle on a different level. He was better than they would ever be in ways that they could not understand. Although it broke his heart he stopped trying to get their affections, gathering the pieces he locking them up where no one could see. Never again would he leave himself open to that sort of pain.

He had started his schooling half way through the last year learnt every thing as fast as he could. He could now write several words and had figured out how to sound out the words he didn't know when he was reading. While at school he had also realised that no one else seemed to be scared of their families and he was the only one who ever had more than accidental injuries. He could count now too and knew that out of the 35 students in his class he was the only one who wasn't scared or sickened when one of the boys, Jarred broke his arm falling out of the tree. Why worry over something that had happened to him so many times? As all of these facts built up, the anguish that had built up and was threatening to boil over slowly translated itself into anger, a cold fury, hatred for the Dursleys.

It was the week after his 7th birthday that it happened. He heard on the news that one of the higher ranking officials had disappeared and it was suspected that he had been murdered. Murder, the word struck a cord in his mind. He wouldn't kill the Dursleys but what if he, Harry ran away and pretended to be dead? If that man on the TV had run away and pretended to be killed then he wouldn't have to live with his family anymore would he? He would be free of the Dursleys forever. It wouldn't even be that hard to make it look like he had been killed. His cupboard certainly had enough blood stains in it.

In the end it was Vernon who made his plan possible for him to carry out. That very night after Harry had thought up the idea, he beat the boy for a slight and ended up cutting him severely when a kick sent the small boy into the glass door. By chance none of the neighbours were home so the smash went unnoticed but Harry, aware of the amount of blood he was loosing through the various cuts thrashed around. Although it made the glass dig in deeper the fact that he managed to get blood on paving outside the door, the carpet inside and even sliding his arm under the edge so it stained the unpolished floor boards underneath made it worth the effort. He was rather faint by the time the bleeding had slowed but pleased he had managed it. When his uncle threw him back in the cupboard he added artistic embellishment using his last oozing cut to put some handprints on the door and coated the handle, then he fainted.

When he woke the house was quiet. For several minutes he laid still to make sure there was on one around before slowly moving around to make sure he could and sitting up. Getting out was a simple matter. He had learned how to pick the lock a while ago so he could use the bathroom and occasionally get food when he was desperate. Checking carefully and keeping alert at all times he gathered some food, two shirts and a pair of shorts of Dudley's that did as trousers for him. He pulled off his destroyed and bloody shirt and tore it into pieces throwing most of it in the bin but a few of the scraps he left in the cupboard. With an exasperated sound he realised that no one would think to look in the cupboard very early on with out any help. Gritting his teeth he found a decent sized shard of glass in his side and taking his 'new' shirt off, yanked it out. He dropped to the floor instantly and first let the blood pool, then smeared it into a trail under the door, joining it to the ones he had made before. With a tight, pained smirk he pulled the shirt back on. Now for the final touch.

He half walked half stumbled to the telephone calling Grunnings and asked for Mr Vernon Dursley. When his uncle picked up the phone Harry laughed and told him who he was, asking him what he was meant to do if he was home by himself and the TV blew up. At Vernon's yell he hung up, immediately dialling the emergency number he poked at one of his wounds so he could manage to cry convincingly. When he was asked what was wrong he screamed, gasped out,

"Please! Privet drive! Help me!" and screamed again, dropping the phone to the floor and kicking the plug out of the wall. A little guilty that he had tricked them when they were trying to help. He went as fast as he could out the door and down the road.

So how do you like the start? Please review and tell me if it sucks or not so I can decide what to do with it.