AN: Coming here once more with an old story that had been sitting on my laptop for years. Might as well post it now, I suppose.

"…" Normal speech

'…' Thoughts (italics)

"…" Speech in a foreign language/Voice from a strange being (italics)



The sound of his own heartbeat drumming in his ears was the only thing he could hear as the belt collided against his back.


It was his 'birthday gift', his uncle stated. For every year that passed a new strike of the belt was added. It was as if he was being punished for being alive, for surviving another year in their hands.

Tuning off everything else he tried to focus on counting the strikes as he laid kneeling on the ground of his room, completely naked and keeping as still as he could, trying to hold back the cries that were bubbling on his throat.




Each time the belt collided against his skin, the lashes grew more and more vicious and finally the last strike came.


The force of the final lash almost threw him off balance but managed to hold himself at the last second. Taking in shaking breaths he was expecting for his Uncle to leave the small cupboard, banging his door closed as he always did but he just remained there. Standing. Watching.

Why hasn't he left?

Keeping as quiet and still as he could, he felt his lingering gaze and cowered at the disgust he emanated along with something else that made his stomach churn. Holding his breath, he prayed to anyone who would listen to him, for his uncle to leave his cupboard and he waited, and waited until finally, Vernon left his room slamming his door and then he waited some more until he heard the creaks of the stairs.

Approaching the old mattress in the room in shaky limbs, he let himself fall on it being careful of his bleeding back. He knew he needed to take care of it or everything would be stained in blood but he couldn't bring himself to move so he just laid on the mattress, and sobbed quietly as he curled into himself. He realy didn't want to be heard, lest he receives another whipping.

Pressing his face on the pillow, he tried to smother his sobs, feeling miserable.

He just wanted it to be over. He didn't think he could go through another year of this and he had a feeling that everything would only get worse.

"Sweet child," a soft whisper, like the hum of the wind, called in the darkness.

What was that? Startling a little, he hastily tried to sit up and winced as pain flared from his back.

"I heard you, my sweet child," Glancing around, he tried to find the source of that voice but couldn't see anything except the darkness on his room.

"No more harm will come to you, I promise you that."

The voice echoed like it was inside his head. Was it the Devil? Was he hearing him on his head like the preacher had said that Sunday? Was he going to offer him a deal in exchange of his soul?

He didn't think so.

Why would someone want his soul? He was going to Hell either way. Aunt Petunia had said so. But even so, the voice was soothing. It sounded how he always imagined a mother would sound.

He gulped dryly, a little ball of hope bubbling on his chest. The ghost of his mother had finally came to take him with her?

'Mom?' He thought.

"My Dear, I am not, but at the same time I am,"

That didn't exactly help any. He scrunched up his face in a frown and received a twinkling laugh in reply.

'Who are you?' He asked in his mind, he really didn't want the Dursleys thinking that he was insane and talking to himself. 'Why can't I see you?'

"My child, I am Mother Magic. I am all around you. Things are because I make them so."

"Magic?" He couldn't help but whisper aloud in wonder. "Magic exists?"

"Of course it does, my sweet child. Don't you feel it in your very being? You Are Magic."

Startled he tried to stand up quickly but his muscles protested and he fell on his knees, doubling over in pain.

"I have seen you suffering too much for someone so young." The voice crooned in painful sympathy. "Forgive me for allowing this to happen upon you."

"I've heard you all this time but I couldn't come to your aid. That Old Wizard placed wards against any magical being. I couldn't believe that he would manage to wrench me from your side." The voice added in anger. She was going to make that old fool pay after she took this child somewhere safe away from here.

Feeling a tingle running down his back, Harry slowly placed a hand on the previous open gash, taken aback at the absence of pain and blood, then the exhaustion suddenly caught up on him and he laid down in a dazed state and murmured, "'m tired."

"Sweet child, I need you to listen. I can take you away, that's why I am here. Just say the word and I'll take you somewhere safe. Somewhere you'll love and were you will feel immensely loved in return."

With wonder at was being offered, he quietly asked, "I won't be hurt anymore?"

"No, my child. You will be cherished by many and loved by one."

Love? Could there be such a thing for him?

Swallowing in nervousness, he summoned what courage he could. "Please, I don't want to be here." He whispered and with a light breeze from Mother Magic, he fell asleep before being gently enveloped into a cocoon, and whisked away.


A sudden rumble could be heard miles away as a flash of light came down from the sky and disappeared as soon as it touched the ground.

Curious, several pairs of eyes gleamed through the trees and stared intently at the little boy who suddenly appeared in the field.


AN: Let me know what you think?