A/N: Hello, guys! :) Midnight Venom, here, previously Levina101! I've finally decided to update my stories and rewrite them again... you can thank ToughGirlsRuleTheWorld to whom I give a special shout-out. This chapter is dedicated to her. As a disclaimer, well... obviously I don't own Harry Potter or its characters. However, I do own this story and the plot, clearly. :) And any OCs or spells that weren't invented by J.K Rowling. I did change the pairing when I decided to revamp this - it is now Harry/Luna which I think suits the story better. There are both heterosexual pairings and slash pairings in this story, so I think it suits everyone, no? I'd tell you the current pairings but I might change my mind, so I'd rather not. If you would still like to know, just send me a PM. Or leave a comment and if enough people want to know I'll post it next chapter. Okay, I'm done talking, time for the good part, yeah? Hope you enjoy it!


Chapter 1: Flashbacks and Pain

Harry was three years old, coughing like mad in the cupboard under the stairs. His head was hot with fever; his skin clammy. The boy was severely sick, but his cries were mostly ignored. He didn't understand why.

His cousin, Dudley, got coddled and taken care of when he was sick. He'd even been taken to the doctor's office a few times. But, Harry... Harry was alone, no one was caring for him, or trying to make him feel better - he didn't understand.

It became clear all too soon, though, when his Uncle Vernon - a large, bumbling mass that had extremely violent tendencies, which Harry would soon learn all about - yanked open his cupboard door.

"Shut up, freak! I'm sick of your coughing and blubbering disrupting the news! If I hear one more sound out of you, you'll wish you were never born, boy..." Vernon ranted, shaking his fist madly, his face purple.

He slammed the door shut and as Harry listened to his uncle's feet shuffle across the floor away from him, he had an epiphany. No one was helping him because nobody cared – nobody loved him.


Harry was six years old and he was struggling to make breakfast for his relatives, pulling around a stool with him so he could reach counters and the stove-top. He could barely keep up with the eggs, bacon, and toast, but was managing - good thing, because he would be making breakfast for his relatives for a long time.

The black haired boy turned away for a minute, trying to butter the toast, when the faint smell of burning reached his nose. He gasped, quickly turning around and running to the stove, shutting everything off for he had no idea what was burning. It ended up being a few pieces of bacon that were extra crunchy, making Harry pale considerably.

Maybe they wouldn't notice, he hoped fervently.

Harry served breakfast as regular to his cousin, his aunt, and his uncle, while he went back to the kitchen and cleaned everything up with a hungry stomach. He was just finishing up when an outraged yell rang through the house," BOY! How dare you burn our bacon! I ALMOST LOST A TOOTH!"

There was a shuffling sound, and Harry knew that Uncle Vernon was coming for him; he also knew it was foolish to try and escape, but he tried anyway. He darted for the back door but didn't get very far before he was roughly yanked back by a meaty hand in his hair. He yelped in pain, cowering as he was repeatedly slammed against the wall, before Uncle Vernon flipped on the stove all the way up, and shoved Harry's pale forearm against the burner. The smell of burnt flesh, not unlike the smell of burning bacon, filled the air along with piercing screams that no one heard...


Harry was eight years old with a very, very long list of chores to do today. He had to mow the lawn, tend to the garden, clean the shed, vacuum the house, do the dishes, dust the tables, and also make all the meals for the Dursley's throughout the day.

He was very, very busy, but even in his haste, he couldn't do it all. He'd forgotten to clean the shed, but didn't realize until he heard Uncle Vernon screaming for him, and then saw his purple, fat face glaring at him. Harry froze, slowly putting the dish he had been drying down, and tried to look meek. "U-uncle Vernon..?"

His uncle snarled, and he found himself backing up, only for his upper arm to be grabbed rather evilly, as he was dragged to the living room and thrown against the floor. "You didn't clean the shed, boy! I won't have laziness, I won't have it!"

And, then, Harry heard the unmistakable sound of a belt being undone - he was going to make a run for it but a large shoe stamped down on his back - and he couldn't help but whimper, afraid of the beating he was going to get. The foot was removed, a sound like a whistle went through the air, and as the belt came down, Harry struggled not to scream. It came down again, and again, leaving welts and open cuts from the buckle. Harry didn't cry. It never changed anything.


Harry was ten years old now and his birthday was in a few weeks. Not that it mattered to his relatives, of course, especially since today was their precious Dudley's birthday. Currently, they were at the zoo, but Harry had only gotten to go because Mrs. Figg couldn't take him.

Harry was excited, because he had never, ever gotten to go anywhere that his family went, and he certainly never got treats! But, today, he had, because of circumstances he would never wish away. But, then... it happened. He knew it was too good to be true. He had been talking to a snake, when Dudley came up and elbowed him out of the way. The glass had vanished, Dudley had fallen through, the snake had escaped, and then the glass was back!

It was one of those strange things that had always happened around Harry - not that he could help it - and of course he was blamed for it - or, would be blamed for it. He could tell by the look on Uncle Vernon's face. When he got home, he was proven correct; he was beaten for it mercilessly, and then thrown in his cupboard, with the promise of," No meals for a week!" The cupboard door slammed shut, and Harry was encased in darkness... he had numerous bruises, sore ribs, and a twisted ankle aside from the deep welts on his back. His whole body felt encased in pain. Still, the boy didn't cry...


Harry was eleven, and he was riding home on the Hogwarts Express. He had spent the last few weeks of term slowly conditioning his body for little to no food. He certainly wouldn't get any Hogwarts feasts at the Dursley's – far from it.

He didn't want to go back to the Dursley's when it had been so peaceful and free away from them. He told his friends he wasn't sure if he could write - he didn't tell them why, though, merely that the Dursley's might not like it. Nobody knew about what happened at home, and he wanted to keep it that way...


Harry had just turned fifteen, his birthday was one spent in pain because he hadn't been able to finish the insane list of chores he had been given as a "present". He was lying in his bed, bleeding – broken. He was so, so sore... and so tired.

He wanted to leave as soon as possible, but he hadn't heard from anyone all summer, not even his godfather Sirius. He had never felt so alone, and he was more eager than ever before to go back to Hogwarts and start his fifth year. In the morning, he would feel better... his natural healing abilities had been rather forced to come out during his life at the Dursley's, and he'd be dead without them, no doubt about it. It was a shame his skin healed so roughly and left him with scars all over. Harry supposed it was a small price to pay – sometimes Harry wished it would all just end, that he could just pass away in the night and get relief from all the pain, but then he thought of the possibility of a Dursley free life and everything seemed just a bit better...


The sun was just starting to rise on Privet Drive when a white blur flew swiftly from a window located on the side of Number 4. If anyone had been awake and watching, they would have been startled to find the blur was in fact an owl with a letter clutched in her talons.

In fact, the residents of Privet Drive would be even more shocked to realize that a very strange boy lived within their mist... those that still believed the nasty rumors about that Potter boy already thought him a very odd and troublesome deviant. However, that was not what made Harry James Potter strange at all.

The dark haired, bespectacled boy was a wizard – a rather famous one, too! He had a trunk filled with spell books, robes, broken quills and empty ink bottles, a magic wand, and even a broomstick. The neighbors never could have guessed that the perfectly normal Dursleys would be hiding a ghastly secret.

Alas, Harry Potter, the wizard, was sitting up in his room at this very moment, lying awake with a secret of his own welling in his mind. His body was twitching with mild pain spasms every so often as he stared up at his plain ceiling, mind in turmoil.

The teen chewed at his bottom lip, unable to decide whether to tell his friends about his home situation or not. Dumbledore would be of no help – and as Harry thought of his headmaster, hatred filled him to the brim. Just at the end of last year, after watching Cedric Diggory die at the hands of Peter Pettigrew and Lord Voldemort return to life, Harry had spilled his guts about all the abuse and pain and hatred he suffered at the Dursleys hands.

Albus Bloody Dumbledore had the nerve to scold Harry for being overdramatic and selfish. Just remembering the conversation nearly had Harry punching a wall, but he restrained himself at the last moment. He didn't need any more bruises.

He had never told anyone about his abuse before – he had barely even thought of it himself – and when he finally opened up, Dumbledore hadn't even believed him!

No, Harry decided, Dumbledore must know exactly what was going on! However, the old coot clearly just cared about the Boy-Who-Lived like so many others, Harry thought spitefully, grounding his molars in anger.

However, Harry also knew that a lot of his anger came from fear. There was no doubt that he no longer trusted his headmaster – what gave him the right to interfere with his life anyway? – but the green eyed teen was now afraid that his friends wouldn't believe him either.

His chest got tight just thinking about Ron or Hermione turning away from him and calling him a liar... but Ron and the twins saw his living conditions in second year, they had to believe him, didn't they? Surely Hermione would also see sense, she was so smart and probably already has suspicions already...

Harry took a deep breath and slowly sat up in bed, his mind resolved. When he got to Hogwarts, Harry would finally tell his friends. He just needed to decide which ones to involve, but that shouldn't be too hard. Anxiety was starting to twist his stomach, though, and he wished he could just get it over with now. A glance over at Hedwig's empty cage had him regretting already sending his beloved owl off to Hogwarts, but it was necessary.

After all, Harry hadn't heard from any of his friends all summer – which made telling them his secret seem so much more daunting – and it was already September 1st and he had no idea how he was going to get to King's Cross in time for the train.

The Dursleys were being particularly cruel this summer after what Harry was referring to as the Weasley Incident and certainly weren't going to drive him to his train. Harry even suspected that Vernon was still angry about the Aunt Balloon Incident. He seemed particularly happy to be relieving his frustrations on Harry's body. The more battered his body got, the happier Vernon would be, Harry thought, grimacing internally.

With a wince, Harry stood and stretched his body as slowly as possible, spending several minutes just massaging his aching muscles enough that he could walk normally. The teen practiced casually strolling around his room while gathering a few extra pieces of clothing, Hedwig's cage, and his summer homework from around the room and placing them neatly in his trunk – which he had been extremely lucky to keep in his room this summer.

Harry thought it was best to be prepared to leave at a moment's notice, so he gathered up his prized possessions (family photo album, Marauder's Map, and a few others) from underneath the loose floorboard underneath his bed and placed them in his trunk under a few cloaks. He tucked his Invisibility Cloak, a family heirloom, in his pocket. Voldemort's return meant that Harry had to be much more careful than usual.

As soon as that thought entered Harry's mind, a hand squeezed his heart and he closed his eyes tightly to prevent from doing something extreme like crying. Depression, panic, anger, sadness, regret, guilt – all those feelings squirmed inside of him at once, similar to how they had been doing all summer.

He had gone through a traumatic experience and then hadn't had anyone to talk to about it afterward. He didn't know who thought that was intelligent – actually, he figured Dumbledore thought it was intelligent and a good way to make Harry go insane – but it had been messing him up ever since he left Hogwarts. His friends had kept it at bay those last few weeks but after he was back at the Dursleys...

The only thing he had as a distraction was stress, chores, insults, and pain. Not good distractions at all. Harry clenched his fist, before taking a very long, deep breath – inhale; exhale – before closing his trunk gently and latching it up. He had managed to squeeze Hedwig's empty cage inside of it, so all that was left was his broomstick that was propped up against the side of his room – he thanked Merlin that the Dursleys didn't want to touch something so openly freakish so much that it overrode their desire to see Harry miserable.

He had dressed in his best clothes which really wasn't saying much considering all he had was Dudley's hand-me-downs. Harry scowled. He really needed new clothes. He had a bunch of money in his vault... the only problem was that he hadn't been to his vault since first year.

He paused mid-thought, frowning. He hadn't been to his vault since first year... why did Mrs. Weasley always have his key? It was like a bank, wasn't it? As a matter of fact, why had Hagrid given his key to the goblins and why wasn't he given it afterward?

Harry cursed under his breath – why was he always so oblivious? That was the real question. The teen scowled at nothing in particular before leaving his room and making his way down into the kitchen as quietly but quickly as possible. He certainly didn't want to wake up the Dursley's and incite another beating.

Much as he enjoyed the last one, Harry thought sarcastically, venomous thoughts flitting across his mind for but a moment before disappearing in the place of excitement as he saw the inside of the freshly packed fridge. It was so full Harry could actually eat a decent meal and it wouldn't even be missed!

He quickly gathered up what he needed to make a satisfying sandwich and went about making it with a hungry gleam in his emerald eyes.

Bread, ham, turkey, two slices of cheese, mayonnaise, lettuce, tomato, another slice of bread...

Harry hurriedly put everything away and cleared up any evidence of him having been there before sitting at the table and staring at his sandwich with dozens worth of excessive glee.

It was practically perverted, how much he loved the look of his sandwich right about now.

Harry pushed that thought away and dug in with gusto, even though he did have to eat rather slowly so as to not upset his stomach.

When he finished, he leaned back in his chair and placed a hand on his content stomach. What a lovely feeling – he hadn't truly felt content in any way since he had left Hogwarts. He had missed it, he thought rather forlornly.

Standing, he shoved his plate deep in the trash before heading back to his room. Vernon would be up soon and he didn't even want to be in the same galaxy as the man, let alone the same room.

Harry was just putting his foot on the first step when a loud knock at the front door broke the early morning silence. The black-haired teen frozen, listening with half an ear to see if the knock had woken anyone up – he took a breath of relief when he heard several familiar snores from both Vernon and Dudley's bedrooms.

After reassuring himself, he pivoted quickly and almost tripped over himself in his haste to open the door before the visitor knocked again.

When the door finally swung open, Harry's eyes immediately found the pale fist clenched and raised to knock again. He was just taking a breath of relief when his gaze traveled up the arm and widened in alarm – choking on air and wheezing slightly when he saw the identity of the person – no, wizard – that was on his doorstep.

Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin House, and feared dungeon bat, simply stared at him with a raised eyebrow, clad in pristine dark robes and a neutral expression that somehow managed to portray amusement.

"Potter," he drawled.


The End!

A/N: I hope everyone liked it, feel free to message me if I made any typos or mistakes. I'm not perfect. No need to be rude, though, right? :) I'm open to reception. I also took out several outrageously over-powerful stuff I was going to add before so I don't think I'll have the same complaints I would've... give me reviews, please, so I can improve and so I can know your opinion. If you like it - favorite/follow! I'll try to update often and I have several other stories I will be revamping and updating again if you want to check those out when I get those done, I'll put it in an author's note when I've updated the others for those who don't put me on follow author.. ;) Hint-hint... haha!