Ok, for those who don't know, my name is VivaNewVegas. I have recently begun delving into this particular fandom, so I decided a story would be a good introduction. Sadly, in my attempts to find many stories of great calibre, leaving out the m/m slash pairings, it has left the list somewhat short. To that End, I have decided to contribute. This story, as given by the pairing, is a Harry Potter/Daphne Greengrass (HP/DG) story. I intend it to be a romance, and for now this will be a T rated adventure.

Now, this starts book one, I'll probably be devoting my FFN time to this project. Please, red and Enjoy the story, your reviews help make it better. Also, PM me if you're interested in BETA reading. It would help.

One with the story.

"STUPID! FILTHY! FREAK!" screamed the man, kicking the small bundle of rags down the stairs. It rolled down, thudding slightly as it hit the landing.

Vernon Dursly, patriarch of the Dursly home, waddled after the bundle of dirty rags, red in the face and sweating profusely. The reason he was so exasperated was because he had spent the last five minutes kicking and hitting the bundle of rags all across the upper floor of Number 4 Private Drive.

Much to the fat man's surprise, the small bundle struggled to rise to its feet, hoping to escape. His face darkened a few more shades of crimson before almost rolling down the stairs, placing his foot on the bundle.

In a hushed tone, Vernon issued his threat. "Listen you freak, next time I catch you walking past a window with the drapes open, I'll have another go with your arm," he whispered. The bundle of rags, while not having resisted before, stopped any motion.

Yes, it remembered the last time Vernon had a go at its arm. A memory of searing flesh, the open flame, laughter of a whale, a beach ball and a horse all echoed in its head.

Vernon pushed on the pile until he heard something snap dully, before nodding to himself.

Removing his foot, he spoke, slightly winded. "Freak, go to your cupboard. You'll be lucky if you eat before Monday." The child, now having multiple broken ribs, only dashed to the cupboard under the stairs, completely ignoring the pain they should have been feeling.

The door closed, followed by the slide of the lock on both the grate and door, concealing him in darkness. Quite sobs started.

The figure, Harry Potter, defeater of the dark lord Voldemort, Boy-Who-Lived, sobbed weakly. It was shocking that he didn't pass out right then and there, but the years had made him resilient to most forms of pain. Only the most extreme bouts of pain would he pass out.

Oddly, he could feel his bones bend gently into place, the pain slowly subsiding. He had never figured it out, why he could heal inside of hours. it would always start with the bones bending, followed by an icy chill that dulled the pain, followed by sleep. As he drifted to sleep, bones slowly reshaping to their desired position, he would always hope for that dream. That dream of a green flash, cool as ice on a hot day, followed by the feeling of flying.

When he woke, he didn't need a watch to tell him the time. The small grill was open, revealing the wall mounted clock in the hallway, ticking away. Through the brass bars, he saw the hands of the clock.

"7. 7:24," mumbled Harry. He glanced around his room. Not even 5 feet tall, the room was directly beneath the stairs. The longest part was where his bed was. Bed was a generous term. Dudley, his cousin, had a king sized bed, reputedly softer than even his Uncle's bed. Adorned with fine bed sheets, all replaced every two months, due to his eating habits while in bed. His Aunt and Uncle had a solid oak, four poster bed, white drapes hiding it at night.

Harry's bed was an old lawnmower bag filled with grass from last year. He had to replace it every year, or else bugs started making their way in. The bag was an old one Uncle Vernon saved from the last lawnmower, after Harry, age 6, was unable to cook breakfast quickly enough, complaining about a stiffness in his back. While that pain hardly went away, it was better than nothing.

His room had nails sticking out from underneath the stairs, where they held the carpet in place. His floor, no more than 2 feet wide, was spotless, the odd spider crawling across. Once, long ago, he might have been scared by spiders, but oddly enough he had made friends with them. He didn't bother them, sometimes helping them escape the house before his Aunt saw them, and they would bring him larger insects, full of protein. He hated it, but it seemed like the only thing that kept him alive.

He had a few shirts and pants, all Dudley's that he had outgrown, put beneath his bed. They were mostly grey and black, having had the colors drained by him on his Aunt's orders.

"Freaks should look like prisoners" where her exact words.

He grabbed some clothes, somewhat clean, and put them on. He found his only pair of socks on the floor, a few spiders crawling around. When his hand came near, they scuttled off, looking up at him. he slipped his old shoes, barely more than scraps of rubber after Dudley used them. Gently pushing the door, he found it was open.

Saturday, June 23. Dudley's 11th birthday. Time to make the breakfast.

While the family of hippos and horses sat down to breakfast, Harry, silent with his head down, black spiky hair hiding his eyes, dished out the ham, bacon, eggs onto three plates. Much to his disgust, Dudley dived into the meal, somehow landing eggs on the floor. Vernon only grinned, exclaiming that his 'little tyke' needed to stay fit and healthy. Harry would have snorted if he was sure he couldn't be heard.

When the walrus of a child finished, Harry gently took the plate, making sure not to make a sound. He added more food, this time more bacon at his insistence. It didn't take long for the entire family, minus Harry, to finish eating, moving onto the gifts. Almost at once, Dudley tried to count.

"24, 25, 27, 20... 20..." he tried, pausing as he tried to remember what came after 27.

"36 presents, counted them myself!" cheered the Dursly patriarch. Dudley frowned.

"That's two less than last year!" he shouted, pounding the table. Petunia, seeing a tantrum coming on, rushed over, gripping her beach ball of a son in her arms.

"Don't worry my Duddikins, we'll go to the zoo today and buy you two more presents, how does that sound?" Dudley, midway through a fake tantrum, stopped as if a switch had been thrown. Without even regarding his mother, he tore away, diving into the gifts.

He received a new television, a new computer, several new computer games, half as many movies, gift cards for arcades and fast food restaurants, and two watches. The first, being a brilliant gold with a digital and analog display, was a gift from the Dursly parents. The other, which was actually a gift to Vernon from his business partner, passed on to Dudley, was completely analog, no electronics whatsoever, and made with black metal, silver hands ticking. Dudley took one look at the black watch before snapping the case shut, throwing it behind him.

Harry, not sure what to do, caught it. His heart rate sped up immediately, fearing for his life. To his shock and pleasure, the family hadn't even noticed, to enamoured with their son tearing away paper on gifts. A thought crossed him.

They didn't see, they didn't care, Dudley obviously didn't care, and looking at it, he rather liked it. Why shouldn't he? So, being ever so discrete, he placed it in his pocket, his thin legs in pants 8 sizes too large for him providing enough room that it didn't show at all.

Harry sat in his room, listening as the car in the driveway pulled out and left, leaving the child completely alone in the house.

He had learned, shortly after breakfast had ended, that Mrs. Figg, the woman that looked after Harry when the rest were gone, had broken her leg. She was in hospital, unable to look after him. Marge, Vernon's sister was on a cruise somewhere, so she was unable to take him.

So, with much groaning and screaming on Dudley's part, Harry was to be left alone. He was strictly told that if the house even felt off, he would regret the day he had ever been dropped off on their doorstep. At that moment, he had held his legs together, hoping to make sure the watch wasn't noticeable.

So, they stuffed him in his room, failed to lock the door, and sped off to the zoo.

He quietly pushed the door open.

Light filtered onto his floor, warming his ankles that were showing. He glanced around, out of habit, before smiling. This was the first time he was truly alone. It was so silent. No great blobs of fat hanging around, crushing the stairs and causing dust to crash into his eyes, hidden behind glasses or not. So, he decided to do something he had dreamed of doing for years.

He walked to the back door.

In all his time at this house, he had never actually gone outside. Sure, sunlight had hit him, fresh air from a window, but even when Mrs. Figg watched him, he never left the house, she always came here. So, he decided he was going to go outside, into the backyard.

He glanced around, a force of habit, before unlocking the door. Slipping quietly outside, he stood in the small gazebo, thin glass and wood doors separating him from what he considered the greatest moment of his short life.

With shaking hands, he grasped the small silver knob, twisting it open.

Birds chirped, sending songs of cheer into the air. A fresh wind blew, carrying the scent of morning dew on the air. The clouds parted, revealing a golden sun, shining rays cascading onto the captive. It was as if mother nature herself was greeting this occupant into the world, welcoming him and blessing him with good fortune.

A deep lungful of the fresh air left him slightly light headed. He fell down, sitting on his rear, simply admiring the grass itself. The closest thing to a plant he had ever seen was his Aunt's failed experiment to breed Venus fly traps throughout the house. That was 3 years ago, and Harry did all the work.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, simply enjoying the outdoors, when his life changed.

He heard piercing cry, jolting him from his bliss. Thinking Vernon was about to hit him, he curled up into the fetel position, hoping to block most of the pain with his thin arms. He was quickly confused when nothing happened.

Squinting an eye open, he couldn't help but gasp.

An eagle, standing reverently on the grass in front of him. It was mostly a brown grey colour on the torso, thick feathers looking as if great pride was taken grooming them. Darker, grey wings spanned almost 2 meters in length, while black, intelligent eyes stared at him curiously. It's feet were fleshy yellow, with large black talons gripping the earth. On its left leg however, was a square of brown paper.

Seeing his gaze, the eagle raised its leg, offering the paper to Harry. The situation was extremely surreal to Harry, who had never ventured outside of the house itself. So, he did the logical thing.

He reached out and grabbed the paper. It came away, no threat or rope or anything connecting the letter to the leg. He glanced at the paper, staring.

Mr. H Potter,

Little Whinging, Surrey

Number 4 Privet Drive

The address was in uniform black ink, but in a pleasing swirly script. Opening the flap, he read the contents of the letter.

Dear Mr. Potter,

It has come to the attention of Gringotts Wizarding bank that your vaults have been tampered with. Due to this horrendous act, we will be fully reimbursing you. We at Gringotts would like to arrange a meeting so that we may clear any questions you may have about the tampering.

Ragnok, CEO of Gringotts Bank

Harry put the letter down. One minute ago he was outside for the first time, the next, an eagle delivered him an owl about his bank account.

"Umm, can you take a message back?" asked Harry. In all honesty, he wasn't expecting an answer from the eagle, but he was surprised when it bobbed its head, making a much quieter scream.

Harry, caught up in the moment, both at the eagle responding and a letter actually being addressed to him, ran into the house. He glanced around, finding a pen on the counter. He quickly scribbled a reply, asking if he might be able to meet with someone to inform him. Harry knew, from overhearing his uncle, that having information made you powerful. While Harry was nothing like his Uncle, he did accept that he needed information. It never crossed his mind that this might be a prank, a vast joke set up by the Dursly's, all to make him look like a fool.

Harry sat in his cupboard.

It had been an hour since the eagle had departed, the scrap of paper magically stuck to her leg. He had guess her gender and was hoping it was right.

Since that moment though, his doubts grew and grew. At first, he wondered if it had happened, if it wasn't all just some illusion brought on by his brain. That led to him thinking that he was a freak, that his brain was deformed, giving him hallucination. His current mindset was now in a state of depression, convinced he was going crazy, and his whole excursion outside was nothing but a vivid fantasy.

CRACK!

With a crack, Harry was snapped out of his depression. It was a sharp noise, coming from just outside his door.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

Harry was stunned. How should he react?

"W-who is it?" he asked, meekly. If it was Vernon, then he would probably be starving for a few days.

A somewhat small, but official voice responded. "I am Griphook from Gringotts Wizarding Bank. Are you Harry James Potter?" asked the voice questioningly. Harry felt like crying. It had all happened.

Gently, Harry pushed the door open, revealing Griphook. He was short, shorter than Harry. He had very little hair on his head, sharp pointed ears jutting out from the few gray hairs. He was dressed in some sort of dark suit, with a gold pin over his heart.

The creature looked at Harry with surprise. To him, he was seeing an extremely malnourished child, covered in nothing but rags, with glasses looking like the lenses were being held together with glue. The room was... well, he didn't even want to go there. Suffice to say, it was not liveable in the slightest.

"Are you Mr. Potter?" asked Griphook. Harry nodded, pushed somewhat against the far wall of his room.

"As I said, my name is Griphook. I am a representative of Gringotts bank, here to inform you of your current situation. Judging by these conditions, we'll need to be talking about a lot more." Harry apologized, making sure Griphook didn't tell Vernon.

Griphook stared, utterly gobsmacked. Before he had left, he was told to treat Mr. Potter as carefully as physically possible. The reason being he currently was Gringotts biggest scandal in the making.

"So..." began Harry. "What... exactly are you here for?" he asked. Griphook looked at Harry, confused.

"You mean, you don't know? Your Vault has been tampered with, I'm here to arrange a meeting to ease any tensions." Harry stared at the diminutive creature.

"I have a Vault?" he asked innocently. Griphook's eyes widened. Clearly the situation was more dire than expected.

Harry Potter was amazed. In a few short hours, he had gone from being a freak for no apparent reason, to being amongst the most respected people in the entire bank. His clothing, having been old tattered rags, were now some jeans and a shirt, making his already thin body look like a stick person.

His watch, well, Dudley's, before he took it, now fit him. what shocked him, like the rest of this new world he had stumbled upon, was that the Goblin, Griphook, had waved a stick at his watch and it shrunk, fitting his wrist.

His glasses were brand new, supposedly reinforced and of a higher quality. He knew this was true, he was seeing everything clearly for the first time in a while. Even with his old glasses, his vision was always fuzzy.

He was currently in a soft, leather chair, far better than anything the Dursly's had, waiting for the CEO of the bank, Ragnok.

With a soft groan, the doors opened, revealing a goblin not unlike Griphook, only better dressed, with more hair and a respectable beard. Griphook followed behind, trying to tell the other goblin something.

"Ahh, Mr. Potter, sorry to have kept you waiting," began the goblin. Griphook all but stopped the goblin bank owner.

"There is a problem!" he whispered violently. This gained his attention.

"What then, and make it quick," snapped the goblin. Harry looked between the two. Currently, the whole situation was surreal, and he was willing to chalk it up to something the Dursly's put in his water.

"He doesn't know," whispered Griphook. At that, Ragnok paled.

"About?" he asked, frightened.

"Anything. From what I could tell at his place of residence, he's been Muggle raised, and in an abusive environment none the less." Ragnok coughed, silent for a few minutes. Finally he shooed the goblin away, leaving Harry with Ragnok.

"So... Mr. Potter," began Ragnok. Harry interrupted. If this was his dream, he was going to do things how he wanted.

"Please, call me Harry. It's, uncomfortable." Ragnok looked surprised, but nodded.

"I've been told you don't know anything about our world, is that correct?" Harry thought about it.

"Yes. I've never seen goblins, I have no idea what that was with the stick and my watch. I can only think it was magic." He frowned at the director's smile.

"You are indeed correct. There are two worlds on this earth, the Muggle, or non magical population, and the magical population. This is made up of Goblins, Wizards and witches, dragons, and most Muggle mythical creatures. The reason the two are separate is because humans have always been biased two ways with magic. A look at your Christianity is a good example of the cons of magic with muggles." Harry nodded through the explanation.

"You yourself are from a long line of powerful wizards and witches. I'm surprised you weren't raised in a magical environment." Harry nervously rubbed his arm. That was the arm that Vernon had scorched to the bone, in attempt to burn the 'freakishness' from him.

"In any event, you shouldn't worry about your magic. Just before your eleventh birthday, you'll get a letter to Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It will teach you how to use your magic safely, while providing you with essential lessons on how to function in wizarding society." Harry nodded.

"But, we're here for another reason. The fact of the matter is, the Potter name currently owns 5 high security vaults with Gringotts. Your total net worth of these vaults combined is around 43 million galleons. In Muggle money, that's roughly 2 billion pounds." Harry almost had a heart attack right there.

"I'm... I'm rich?" he whispered, not believing it himself.

"Yes, and those are just the vaults you can access right now. If our records are correct, you have multiple inheritance vaults from several old or dead families, making the Potter vaults look like spare change." Harry was gobsmacked. This had to be a dream.

But there is one vault in particular we're concerned with. The second smallest vault belonging to the Potter's. At the time of their death, there was roughly 24 million galleons inside that vault. We've discovered a... discrepancy with that vault." Harry frowned.

"What happened? Something missing?" asked Harry. Ragnok shook his head.

"More like 19.3 million galleons." At this, Ragnok pulled out a piece of paper.

"Sign here and anyone involved with your vault, as well as me, shall be properly punished for such a large fault in our management. We cannot begin to express our apology over the situation. Please allow us to make up the difference any way you wish," continued Ragnok. Throughout the apology, he had grown profusely more prostrate, until he was practically bowing to Harry. The situation was very uncomfortable.

"Umm, that's ok. I've never had any money for myself, so... you could say it's not a big deal. Especially if I've got so much money anyways." Ragnok shook his head somewhat violently.

"No, the bank must atone for this atrocity, how it did not show up on your statements earlier is beyond me, but we must atone for our error," he continued.

Harry thought for a minute. It was obvious he was going to have to demand some sort of punishment. It would be seen as an offence to the Goblin bank if nothing was done. But he didn't care about the money...

"I have an idea," began Harry, pleased that Ragnok had raised his head. "What if you paid for my tuition to this Hogwarts, for my entire education, as well as school supplies?" Ragnok rubbed his beard, pondering.

"Perhaps, if we paid for everything you need during the school year... this includes the Hogsmead trips in third year. Would that be appropriate?" asked the goblin. Harry nodded.

"I would be ok with that," he replied. Ragnok smiled, pleased at the result. Truly, even for a Muggle born wizard, Mr. Potter was the nicest human he had met.

Ragnok adopted a serious tone. "We at Gringotts will provide you financially with everything you may need or want during your education. In addition, we will fix the wrongs your Muggle family have done to you." Harry shook his head at family.

"They are my Aunt and Uncle. They never even wanted me, kept telling me I was a waste. I don't even know what a family is," he said, a few flares of hate blossoming inside him.

Ragnok smiled. "We will have our Goblin medical team heal your body. I'm surprised you're standing with how thin you are. And don't worry, next time you are forced to see them, I wouldn't be surprised if they bowed to you." Harry tilted his head when the Goblin laughed somewhat evilly.

Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was angry.

Harry Potter, his ace in the hole, path to Minister of Magic, was missing. All of his monitoring spells, ranging from the blood ward protection system to tracking spells placed on Harry, were dead. The large growing puddle of molten silver was proof.

If one had failed, he would chalk it up to just a bad spell cast. When all thirty of them failed at once, something was up. Dammit he needed that boy under his thumb for his plans! What's worse is he couldn't find the child through other means, be it the 'Point me' spell, or even going to his residence. The idiot muggles there only cheered when they heard Harry was missing.

He glanced at Fawkes, seeing the bird stare at him. "Oh shut it, you know I need the boy to reach my goal," snarled the aging wizard.

[A.N.] That's the End of Chapter One. Tell me what you think? I really Like Reviews, and the button is just...

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