Chapter 3

August 1st, 1985 - Number 4, Privet Drive

Harry looked around in suppressed glee, his eyes alight with awe and wonder. It was late afternoon, five o'clock to be exact, yet the young boy was standing in the middle of a large alley, staring in delight at just what he had stumbled upon.

It had only happened an hour ago, but he couldn't bring himself to move and instead settled with trying to capture everything he possibly could in this moment. Harry had been outside tending to the flower patch in the front of the house, per Aunt Petunia's demand, when he felt as if he was being watched. He turned around and saw no one there, so shrugged and turned back to his work. It wouldn't do for Aunty to get angry at him again.

He was just about to head inside when he heard a noise, something much too close for him to mistake it. He looked around and still there was nobody, but he knew that something was happening. Suddenly, a large black dog appeared next to him and wagged its tail. It towered over the small frame of the five-year-old easily, his head only reaching the furry creature's chest. The dog had snuffed at him before trotting away. Out of curiosity (and having never been given the "stay away from strangers" talk), Harry had followed the enormous puppy and was led to a pub. He walked inside and stayed near the wall, watching in incredulity as the dog was ignored and the adults in the vicinity continued to do as they pleased. He was astounded when the wall behind him shuffled away brick by brick to reveal something out of a dream!

Magic!

It was everywhere, you could see the slight shimmer in the air when any of the children accidentally did something, and he could feel the immense power of those who used their magic freely to lift things such as deliveries for their shops or packages they had bought. It was truly wonderful, and Harry honestly felt like he had finally found somewhere he belonged. He may only be five years old, but he knew that what these people did and who they were - it was something he was a part of too. It made sense! All those times he got in trouble when something happened out of nowhere, it was magic! When he turned his teacher's wig blue! When he was running away from Dudley and his friends and found himself on the school roof! When he saw things that others couldn't or made things fly with just a thought! It was all because of magic!

...HE had magic.

And once Harry realised this, he stood there in the corner of the alley watching all these beautiful things happening for the past hour.

Just as he was about to step further into the world of his dreams, he was yanked back harshly and sent sprawling over the floor. A large shadow swept across his small frame and he looked up in terror as the form of Uncle Vernon appeared, face red and sweaty and eyes looking ready to pop. He grabbed young Harry by the collar and dragged the boy back to his house, not uttering a single word until he threw him into his cupboard.

"10 minutes," the man spat, the only warning for Harry before he realised that this was it. He was going to die. There was no more chances, no more waiting, he was going to die and that monster was going to enjoy it.

And ten minutes later, the ugly brute of a man he called Uncle appeared for the second time in the same hour that day to take him away, and Harry couldn't do anything about it. He was just about ready to collapse, his fragile mind only thinking over and over that "this is it, I'm going to die."

Vernon slung little Harry Potter over the living room floor, getting out his belt and glaring with barely suppressed rage in his eyes at the brat he had to call nephew. Sneering at the boy, he raised his arms and began whipping the boy's back, ignoring the small cries of help and whimpers that left the child's lips and instead focused on causing the imbecile pain, as much pain as he could.

Harry could no longer think, he couldn't breathe and he couldn't see. All he could do was lay there on the floor pathetically and listen as the belt made contact with his pale skin, digging into his back and stomach and shoulders and legs. He screamed when the man took out a knife and started carving into his arms and legs - he couldn't hear himself, but his mouth hung open and his throat burned. Harry was covered in blood, sweat and tears, his body shuddering wracked with sobs. He couldn't feel anymore, nothing was left that allowed him to confirm that he was still alive and not dead yet.

But in the next second, everything was silent.

Petunia watched in horror as her husband beat the poor child to near death, and clutched fearfully at her son as a flash of light burst into the room. In the next second, there stood a young man with piercing blue eyes, wearing a red neckerchief and blue tunic as he stared intensely at Vernon.