Harry Potter 1. The beginning

CHAPTER- 1

He was indulged in one of his insane drunken furies again. Cauldrons were crashing all over the floor , the greasy contents sprawling heavily out of them, furniture were flung over, broken pieces of wood slamming on the unstable walls, shattering the fragile windowpanes,.. The unbearable destructive banging seemed to be challenging the rumbling of the thunderstorm raging outside.

And yet, on he went with the tantrum, destroying what was left of this shallow shack of a house. Flashes of lightning showed glimpses of the state of this place. The dishes that used to lay unwashed, piling over the kitchen sink, were now broken to bits, scattering all over the kitchen floor. The filth, now adding up to the moldy mass that had managed to layer over the ages. Unmistakable stench of alcohol lingered in the air, and countless empty bottles could be seen everywhere.

My father, with his wild, matted hair and lifeless eyes that now blazed with the thirst for power, those yellow teeth and the husky breath that stank of liquor, the un groomed, hulky body that showed no traces of humanity left inside, now turned around and lunged for me. As I knew he would.

I felt my senses numbing, and my head throbbed searingly. I could feel bruises forming all over my body, adding up to the sickening ones that hadn't yet managed to fade away from the last time this had happened. I could sense the floor being patterned with the splashes of my blood, mixed with the alcohol dripping from the bottle in his hand, and after bearing a final blow to my chest, I blacked out, being knocked unconscious.

It wasn't very unnatural for me, the heartless bashing. For the past ten years of my life, I'd had more than my fair share of it.

Sometimes, my mom would meet me in my delusional unconscious state. She would tell me that she would always be watching over me from the other side. She would hold my delicate little face in her warm palms, look me in the eyes, and tell me that it was going to be okay, that she loved me to bits, and that she wanted me to stay strong, hold on.

She would reassure me that she would always be there for me, no matter what. She would then kiss my forehead, whisper a lullaby into my ear and watch me fall back asleep. After a few hours, the morning lights would plunge me back to reality again, summoning me into this nightmare of a life. But… the memory of that dream would just about give me enough hope to keep pushing on.

If only my mother were alive… How I wished my life was as full of love as that of all those little children in the park… Those kids would come there, bursting with happiness, with their mothers who loved them more than anything else in this world, with their fathers who were always ready to protect them from whatever obstacle that might come along their way...

And... There I would crouch, behind the bushes in the park, watching those kids trot around happily, wondering why I couldn't have a normal, carefree, happy life like them.

Sometimes, I would try to approach those smiling kids, hoping against hope that they would include me in their merry little groups as well, let me be one of them. But, even at the sight of me coming anywhere near them, they would alarmingly look up, like deer caught in headlights, and run up to their parents, frightfully rambling about how that strange freak from across the valley just tried to approach them, with god knows what intention.

Me and my father... We didn't exactly have the most impressive reputation in the village. We lived in isolation, never attempting to socialize. Sure, things were different when my mother was alive. She was an absolute sweetheart, really popular among both the elders and youngsters alike. People couldn't help but... Well, be dazzled by her flawless aura. But now, with her gone, and my father constantly submerged in a drunken haze ,violent temper tantrums exploding in our unkempt house everyday, people looked down upon us, like the disgraceful dark spots on the flawless surface of the moon.

Some of them were even convinced that we performed unthinkable law abiding crimes for a living. I didn't blame them for thinking so disrespectfully about us. If I were in their place, I would probably be thinking the same way, too. No one in their right mind would ever guess about the heaviness of the responsibility that in reality rested upon my innocent shoulders. If only they knew how it was me, who had the worst share of the hasty conditions, how I was the one who was compelled to scrape a living out of pure labor and hard work...

If anything, these soul shattering situations were just another reason for me to numb-en my senses, to try to ignore this living hell that was life. It was unfair, and I felt more and more depressed about it everyday. As my father's attitude had cost me my reputation as well, I had no other choice than to start keeping to myself, ignoring my childish enthusiasm, wondering how it could possibly be this messed up.

But then I would tell myself, the people who underestimated me, the very ones who pretend to loathe me all the time, they were stupid muggles, who had no idea whatsoever about half the things the world keeps hidden. The wizarding world that exists in secret caution, those magical beasts that can snap you into pieces in less than a heartbeat... Yes, the secrets this world keeps hidden, they are of the most powerful content. Those muggles had no clue how insanely powerful spells can be, how if used properly, they can even destroy the world within fragments of seconds. That ancient magic, if mastered, can penetrate many layers of one's soul, and force out all its thoughts. Yes, you could even gain unnatural control over every single thing this world has to offer. But how could the muggles possibly know that?

Maybe my overly dominating and yet reasonable thinking was also one of the reasons why I always had to grow up alone. In other people's eyes, I was this strange boy with greasy black hair, and dark eyes that were as lifeless as the winter woods, those same ragged and baggy clothes that I would always be seen in… something in my mere personality seemed to make me look repulsive, threatening even. But over the years, I had managed to convince myself that as long as I kept on managing to look out for myself, how others thought about me didn't matter in the least.

Deep inside, all that I knew was that I couldn't afford to be shallow and simple minded like the rest of them, I was destined for greatness, and it was my responsibility to take matters into my own hands, and try to work hard, and contribute to the high intellect that I was born with.

But beneath that mask of repulse.. I, the kid who was hated, and even feared by everyone, was longing for company, starving for protection, desperate for someone to take care of me. Sure, intellect is important, but.. I couldn't help but feel miserable about all those dirty looks thrown at me everyday.

There wasn't a single soul who seemed to notice how lonely I really was, how sad and withered my soul really felt, how my bruise marks reminded me each and every day of the grief my life really contained… But nobody seemed to care about me enough to make me feel like I even deserved to be happy. There was nobody in this world that I could really call my own.

No matter how much I tried to ignore these emotions, no matter how many times I tried to convince myself that there is no love, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it, all these crushing emotions… they would always keep nagging at me on the back of my mind. But I kept all of them bundled up within the darkest corner of my heart, as I simply couldn't bear to unleash them; they were too deep and too consuming.

Maybe I would have been different, if my father weren't so delusional all the time. I cringed to think about how my father would react if I told him about my feelings, which felt lost all the time. 'You stupid scum, How dare you disrespect my honor? Speaking about your petty emotions when I'm in the middle of my …' He would probably keep on rambling, while downing a bottle of liquor or two for that matter.

I often wondered what could possibly have happened to him, to make him so dependent upon his delusional world, what could possibly have convinced him that this virtual nightmare of a life was better than the reality of the outside world. But I never dared to ask him about that. I wasn't allowed to talk about my mother either, and I suspected that she had a lot to do with my father's sorrow. But... I had long since learnt to keep my suspicions to myself.


	2. And there's always an escape

CHAPTER- 2

And on I went, with my life, that tiny little ray of hope that used to tell me that things might turn out to be fine someday, slowly being replaced by hatred and depression, and hopelessness. I barely managed to salvage my fears, but nonetheless kept on clinging to that fading ray of hope, kept on consuming myself with my thirst for knowledge.

The only thing that kept me moving was the idea that my letter to this magical place called Hogwarts would be arriving soon, now that I was almost eleven years old. How I longed to escape this horrifying prison of reality, how I dreamt about going off to that faraway castle, and creating a whole new world for myself…

Oh yes, I would devote my heart and soul to my studies, and I would learn so much that I would never have to reach that place of self pity and desperation where my father would always keep drowning in. Oh yes, I would make pure-blooded alliances, ones who would actually understand me…

One morning, while cleaning out the small attic, something caught my eye. On a far corner, under a thick layer of dust, were some heavy, battered books that I had never noticed before. They looked as if they had been there for ages, coated in such dense layers of dust.

Out of sheer curiosity, I picked the first one I laid my eyes on. Its cover read 'The Deep Side of Magic', and something about that title expanded the curiosity boiling inside of me. I started leafing through the pages, and soon found myself so indulged in the contents of the book, that I entirely lost track of time. By the time I was finished with it, the faint orange shade of the sky that could be seen through the small window on the far corner of the attic, with its glass windowpane lightly coated with frail layers of dust and shoot that had managed to settle over the years, told me that it was sunset. My absence throughout the day earned me a few more blows from my father, but then I thought, it was well worth it.

From then on, the attic became my hideout. I would find myself leafing through the pages of those books for hours, simply fascinated by the contents in them.

Some of them taught me about the history of the magical kind, describing in details about the revolution of the goblins, or the formation of the order of Merlin, whereas others contained complex spells, which could be used either in the steady upliftment, or in the utter destruction of the mankind. some taught you about brewing potions, its mystery embroidered within the light fumes of the mixed ingredients, whereas others simply taught you about the fascinating magical creatures, from gigantic dragons and dazzling unicorns to the tiny but venomous Doxies.

The book I found the most fascinating was naturally, 'The Deep Side of Magic'. It contained so many spells that seemed to contain the very core secrets of wizard kind. Some pages even instructed that you could create your very own spells, once you perfected the art of charms casting. I was desperate to try those spells out, too restless to wait for the day when I could have my very own wand...

After a few days of learning the contents of that book off by heart, I started moving on to the next one that was almost as enthralling. It was the one that taught you all about how to brew various potions, ones that could perform miracles. And the best part about it was... I found some of the ingredients required for it stored away here in the attic, my mom must have left it there back when life was full of rainbows and butterflies. So... In one of the old cauldrons, I started practicing brewing those potions.

Now that I had a slight taste of what magical education would feel like... I couldn't wait for my Hogwarts letter to arrive. I would visit the library there so often, and read out of as many books as I possibly could, and practice as many spells as I pleased. I now knew that I could absorb the facts from the books really quickly, and... that just catalyzed my excitement to go to this magical school.

Besides that, I knew Hogwarts was like a second home to all of its students. I would make new friends, live in dorms, have large feasts for a change, and most importantly, I'd actually have elders who would look after me as opposed to the other way around, the way that I had to live with everyday.

On and on I dreamed, spinning impossible stories and scenarios in my head. And the more I dreamt, the more I couldn't wait to turn all those dreams into reality, to watch them spring up to life… I was always seen trapped within my own dream world, and at the times when I wouldn't be dreaming, I could be seen trying to recall all the things that I had learnt from those books, trying to know it all off by heart.

Yes, I gave the impression of a strange little boy, who would be staring into space so very often, looking as if the reality wasn't worth of his mere attention. Nope, nothing in my features suggested the emotions, the longing I really felt.

What with my lifeless eyes and a permanent scowl, nothing about me suggested that I had a lot going on in my head, that my heart was leaping in excitement that very second. And I always kept on being that way; I never dared to wear my heart on my sleeve. No, emotions were better off trapped inside. Once unleashed, they could only build grief, and cloud your judgment.

Yes, even as a little child, I held masked emotions. And …That masked reputation was something, which I knew would stick with me until the very end.


	3. Always

Chapter-3

After successfully brewing up a cough remedial potion for my father, and giving him his evening dose, without him realizing that it was a magical potion, of course, as he never approved of magic, I found myself walking absentmindedly up to the local park one evening.

I wasn't paying any attention to the surroundings, of course, but was dreaming, as usual, about Hogwarts, and magic, and a world away from this place, a world where I could have a whole new beginning, a place where all the realms of my childhood trauma would no longer haunt me, a place where I could learn more about my newfound passion - Defense Against the Dark Arts, and maybe even potions.

I was caught up in my own dream world, a hopeful place, when... A flash of red hair! Something called for my instant attention. Flying through the swings was a girl, of about my own age, laughing in amusement, soaring through the air, and landing as lightly as a feather, as safe as can be.

Something about her made me feel strangely warm and fuzzy inside, an emotion I had never encountered before. There was something in her aura, that made the fading ray of hope in my heart suddenly lighten up all at once, all those suppressed feelings inside my soul suddenly spring up to life... One look at her face, and my spirits soared up to no heights; it felt as if… the whole purpose of my life was to meet that girl, to make her happy… To spend the rest of my life with her.

It felt as if my soul had finally found a true connection, a person I could confide in. I knew I could trust her, I knew I could be her friend; I knew we were meant to be…

Even though she was a stranger to me, my heart felt as if it had been taking every beat for her, it was as if the heavens were finally giving a relief to my soul.

This strange and magical feeling… She brought out the magic in me. She made me see the beauty of life, she made me feel whole inside, she was the one and only soul I could imagine spending the rest of my life with.

Never before, had I stopped to appreciate how brightly the sun beams danced to the morning breeze, never before had I stopped to smell the sweet aromas of the flowers lingering in the fresh atmosphere, never before had I truly appreciated the beauty of this world... And amidst all of that beauty, there she stood. The most beautiful, the most dazzling, and the most delicate soul I had ever encountered.

This feeling... Could this feeling possibly be real? All the magic working up in me... I had never opened up to anyone before, and I had never wanted to. And yet… She made me feel like I could count on her up to no end.

It was as if my soul was screaming to me to get closer to that girl, to gaze into her eyes, to stroke her hair, to hold her in my arms, and keep her locked in my embrace forever. No matter what might happen, I wanted to be there for her. ALWAYS.

My hollow eyes now twinkled with enthusiasm, my withered soul now sprang up with emotions, my weary heart now pounded excitedly, filled with a feeling I had never encountered before.. Love. Yes, for the first time in my life, I felt love. And... It felt good.

The moment I set my eyes on her, nothing else mattered to me anymore. All that I knew was… I had to get closer; I had to get to know that girl… All that mattered… Was her, and only her.

All those moments of childhood trauma... They escaped my soul at once, all that lust for power, I let go of it at once, all that I knew, all that I wanted… Was that girl, she meant the world to me, and as long as I was with her, nothing else mattered anymore.

She was the one for me, and I would always be there for her.

Was it normal for someone to feel such heavy emotions so instantly? I wondered. But then I realized… since when had I actually been that normal? As a wizard, sometimes, my emotions did strange things.

There was this one time, when after my father had beat me up again, I was this close to having an emotional surge. But then I felt… Nothing. It was as if my emotions were gone, shattered beyond repair. My eyes had become as emotionless as the dark tunnels, my soul had felt as lifeless and empty as the rusty cauldrons... And not even the thought of Hogwarts, which always cheered me up, made me feel anything. And this emptiness, which consumed me for a long time, until it slowly started to fade away, along with the bruise marks on my skin, as the days went by. And the next time something bad happened, this emptiness would surround me again. And again, it would fade away. It was like a rhythm, which came and went as the sorrow built within me.

But… the feelings that I felt right now… I knew it in my heart that I would never feel devoid of emotions again, she would always get my heart racing, she would always fill me with happiness, she would always be there to make me smile, and she would always keep me company…

There was nothing I wanted more than to see that beautiful smile in her face. I wanted her to be happy, and I knew it in my heart, that this feeling that I felt for her, it was something I would be holding onto forever.


End file.
