Chapter Text
Harry was a quiet baby, so quiet that his presence was almost unnoticeable to his relatives who were all too happy to forget that he existed, a stain to their perfectly normal life and freak.
Since that cold November night, baby Harry had been living with his aunt and uncle at 4th Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. To live with them was perhaps not the right term, as he spent most of his days closed inside the small cupboard under the stairs, engulfed in darkness and never-ending silence.
While Dudley, his cousin spent the days playing with his toys, eating and smiling Harry was left in hunger, dirty and forgotten with only the darkness and the spiders as his company.
As time passed by, and so soon as he reached his fifth birthday, Harry was no longer allowed to stay days on end locked inside the cupboard, wasting away and filling in space without working for it. Instead, he was forced to earn his keep.
Harry could now reach the stove and so, cooking breakfast and all other meals became his task. At first, he did so under his aunt's supervision and when she was certain he wouldn't spoil the food or burn anything, Petunia quickly stopped bothering with it, leaving him unsupervised.
Later, when it became apparent that he was competent enough at his tasks and kept mostly out of trouble when working, the Dursleys stopped holding back. Vacuuming and washing the floors, dusting and polishing silverware, taking care of the laundry and tending to the garden were then added to his chore-list without pause.
From days lying down alone in the dark cramped space of his cupboard, Harry moved onto endless hours of household chores that left him aching from the exertion, exhausted and hungry. But even with all the added work, Harry access to food did not increase.
Food was one of Harry's greatest problems within the Dursley household, he was often limited to a single meal per day and never allowed the same foods as the Dursleys having instead to content himself with stale bread, water and the occasional fruit. Quickly enough, Harry learnt that he would have to steal some if he wanted to keep from collapsing.
Even then, it was far from enough.
His method was quite simple, he would simply stuff himself with the scraps from his relatives’ meals, whenever possible, and occasionally swipe some of the leftovers in the garbage after his aunt threw them away to ensure Harry couldn’t get any of it if he was left alone with the food.
However, this was not good enough to stave his hunger, not when he worked from dusk until dawn without stop.
It was not until the first incident happened that Harry learned he could do something more.
Harry had been working in the garden when it happened.
He had been pulling on some of the weeds that kept on plaguing his aunt's rose bushes when Dudley ambushed him from behind and shoved him straight against them. Due to the force and unexpectedness of the push, there was nothing Harry could do to prevent the fall, so when Harry's face and hands landed right on top of the flowers, destroying some of them under his weight and successfully ruining the flower beds that had given him so much work to keep alive and to his aunt's standards Harry knew he would be in a world of trouble.
He heard Dudley shouted for Petunia, and despite himself and the panic at the situation, Harry looked back to glare at his cousin only to see the infuriating and gleeful little smirk on Dudley's face.
Petunia reached them only moments later, and upon seeing the state of her flowers her anger could not be contained.
"Look what you've done, freak!" She shrieked, grabbing one of Harry's arms and digging her nails in while dragging him inside the house.
Her angry hisses and loud chastising didn't take long to draw Vernon's attention to them.
"What happened Pet?" asked Vernon from his place in front of the TV.
"It was the freak! He ruined my favourite flowers!" she said venomously.
"Let me handle this, Pet. Take Dudley for a walk while I handle the freak" he said gently, although his face was already reddening with anger.
"Alright, I will take Dudley to the park." she agreed, sending one last glare at Harry before leaving the house with Dudley beside her.
Vernon waited until Petunia had left the house with Dudley before taking a hold of Harry and dragging him forcefully upstairs into Dudley's spare room, closing the door behind them.
Once they were left alone in the house, Vernon turned into something different, a beast.
He shoved little Harry hard against the floor and took off his belt, buckle down, ready to strike.
Harry attempted to resist, but he was powerless against something as Vernon, easily four times Harry's own size. Before long, Harry had one of his own socks shoved inside his mouth and right after, the belt start raining down on him.
A couple minutes later and Harry was covered in blood, skin split open, red and already purpling in some places when Vernon finally set the belt aside. But that was not the end of it. After a couple seconds of pause, Harry felt both punches and kicks hit him on succession for an unknown amount of time. By that time, Harry had no energy left to cry, move or scream.
He lay broken on a puddle of blood, seemingly lifeless and drained of all energy. Tear tracks had already dried on his face since he simply had no energy even for that.
Harry was in a state where he could barely keep his consciousness as he laid there, motionless and unable to make a sound. And Vernon, despite all the damage he had already made, was still not feeling satisfied with his work as he looked down at his nephew.
With a forceful movement, he rolled Harry to lay on his back and stripped him stripping him bare to properly observe his work.
Vernon felt excitement rush inside him seeing the small body under him, bloodied, bare and defenceless. He kneeled in front of Harry, unable to contain himself, and unzipped his pants. His cock sprung free, already hard and pulsing from excitement and Vernon didn't waste any time before he was stroking himself to his nephew's image.
Vernon then fixed his gaze on Harry's bloodied and glistening lips and an idea surged in his mind. Pulling Harry closer, until the body was laying underneath him, Vernon pushed a delirious and practically unconscious Harry upwards, pulling the sock out before lining Harry's face with his penis.
Grinning, already imagining what was about to happen, he shoved it straight in without a care for Harry's discomfort or how disturbing everything he was doing and had done was.
Harry choked and gagged reflexively with each thrust, only vaguely aware of what was happening but unable to resist in any way. Over him, Vernon grunted in pleasure, like the sick animal he was.
Vernon's orgasm was already building and getting him close to release, making him thrust in faster and deeper inside at a much harsher pace until he finally came with a guttural moan of pleasure as his load slid down Harry's throat, some of it slipping past his mouth and sliding down his chin.
Vernon was finally feeling satisfied.
Pulling his pants up, fastening his belt and standing, Vernon left the room without a second glance behind. A loud click was heard when the door was locked and soon after his steps were heard on the stairs as he went back down to the living room.
Left inside, Harry stayed motionless, already passed out from the abuse.
That day, something inside Harry woke up.
As he laid there, on the cold hard ground near his death bed, his blood sang and the protection deeply ingrained inside it exhausted all of it's remaining energy to forcefully awaken the inherited magic buried deeply within him in one last attempt to save him before it was too late.
It reached out to the most ancient and deepest connection within Harry's bloodline and brought forth an inheritance long believed to have been lost. Harry was awakening as a Blood Mage.
As this phenomenon took place, the blood that had been soaking the floor started hovering above ground until it slowly enveloped Harry in a dark-red cocoon.
The scene in itself was eerie, but what was happening inside it was even more unbelievable. As he curled inside, warm a comfortable, Harry's wounds began healing at pace that would have been noticeable to the naked eye, erasing all traces of what had happened from Harry's body until there was no indication that any of it had happened. But it didn't stop there, because then he it started changing Harry himself.
His once brittle raven curly and perpetually dishevelled hair gained an healthy lustre as it turned smooth to the touch, the locks looking styled and bouncy; his skin lost a shade, gaining a pale tinge and his lips became a bit more plump, smooth and red - opposed to the thin dry line that had previously been there. Bones, muscles, organs and flesh were slowly reconstructed, impurities cleansed and damage fully corrected. His green-emerald eyes darkened slightly as a circle of black now outlined the green of his irises. Finally, a small tattoo appeared just above his left hip bone in such a dark blood-red that it looked black.
Altogether, Harry seemed like an entirely different person.
When it was done, a deep seethed magical exhaustion forced him into a temporary coma as his reserves were slowly replenished and his tired body given rest.
Harry woke up two days later, to the sound of his aunt opening the bedroom's door.
She entered already shrieking, demanding he get up to clean himself and go down to make them breakfast after avoiding his chores for two full days when she abruptly stopped as she noticed his changed appearance. His cherubic and yet devilish appearance both enchanted her and freaked her out, the sudden change being extremely scary and incredibly freakish, more so than anything Harry had done before.
"Vernon! Vernon! Come here quickly!" she said after letting out a scream of shock and horror as she bolted out of the room "It-It's the freak! Something happened!"
"What is it, Pet? What did he do this time?!" he asked with some lingering fear, afraid that he had been discovered or that the boy had died while locked up there.
"He-he's changed. The freak as completely changed." she said in horror and disbelief.
Not really understanding what was happening Vernon went upstairs to encounter the same sight Petunia had seen, a room cleaned of any traces of blood and a familiar, and yet not, boy sitting on the floor rubbing his eyes as he attempted to ward off sleep. Vernon's face turned ashen with fright, what was this unnatural sight? How was this possible? They had to get rid of him!
"Pet, I think we should just lock him away inside this room." said Vernon fearfully, pale as a sheet. "Or-or maybe lock him away in the attic... Yes, that's a better idea! If we do that, we won't even have to cross paths with the freak." He continued more to himself, eyes glazed over as if the sight of his nephew was the most frightening thing he had ever seen.
Harry didn't understand what was happening. As he looked between the two, his memories were blurry and he barely remembered anything after he had fallen on top of the rose bushes, so no matter how he tried he had no recollection of anything happening that could have warranted this kind of reaction by his relatives.
Before he could even make sense of what was happening, he had been taken to the attic, thrown and locked inside.
Still in disbelief, Harry looked around, getting a sense of what was effectively his new bedroom. At least he wouldn't have to live inside the cupboard anymore.
As he reached for his face, to subconsciously adjust his glasses, Harry noticed for the first time that they weren't there, even then, Harry had been seeing everything with perfectly clarity. It was strange that he suddenly didn't need them anymore.
For the first hour or so that he was inside, Harry just stood there sitting on the floor, not knowing what to do. The attic was dark but not has dark as the cupboard had been, since the small window provided enough light to see the contours of some of the things inside, and even look at the garden from number 6.
Harry stood up, he felt much lighter than he had ever felt before. It was incredibly refreshing to no longer be plagued by pains and aches. His limbs felt much more flexible and stronger, and moving was no longer hard at all.
Harry looked around, it was the first time he came here and that brought with it a strange sense of unfamiliarity to the space.
He attempted to discern what some of the things whose contours he could see farther away were, but when it proved ineffective, he simply went over to a small pile of boxes close to his feet.
As he opened them, and felt around for what it was, he found a set of four small pillows that judging by their size and covers' material had at one point been part of the living room's decoration. on another box, he was ecstatic when he found a thick winter blanket.
Harry needed a bed, or at least some semblance of one, and this discovery was exactly what he needed to make one so he wouldn't have to sleep directly on the hard wooden floor.
Taking the huge, thick and fluffy blanket out of the box, Harry folded it in two to turn it more comfortable once he laid down and spread it out by the small window since that was the only place that afforded a considerable degree of visibility and wasn't overly cluttered with boxes and discarded furniture. After setting it up, he reached for the pillows and threw haphazardly on top of his makeshift bed.
Harry continued looking through the boxes, hoping to find anything useful, but he only found table lamps in various styles. Since he had yet to find a socket to try lighting them up, they wouldn't help him much.
Finally, at the end of his patience with how much useless garbage he had unearthed from the Dursleys' attic, surrounded by boxes upon boxes of unhelpful things, Harry convinced himself to help one last box before spending his time doing something else.
His prayers for something of value were answered, when he was surprised at the sight of books. Admittedly, they were learning books for young children, having belonged to Dudley years ago before he had gotten bored and thrown them away.
But while they were useless to his cousin, Harry had a very different perspective.
Harry, who had never had access to anything of the sort for as long has he could remember, was immediately excited with the prospect reading and seeing what they were like inside. It would be his first time handling something that could provide any kind of entertainment.
Forgetting everything about searching any more boxes for a sheet, or a curtain, or anything he could use as a cover during the night, Harry dragged the box right next to his bed to use it as a bed-side table and threw himself on top of his new bed to start looking at them.
Opening one of his new books, Harry started flipping through the pages in awe as he saw images of different kinds of animals, others of objects, or even places he'd never seen before, enraptured by the colours and the drawings. When he found something he recognised, Harry would softly mouth of the name as if reading out from the page, and then he would give a small quiet laugh of delighted.
He had never had so much fun before.
Harry, despite his aunt not wanting him to, was set to begin attending school that year as soon as September arrived, alongside Dudley. Knowing this, Harry was even more satisfied with his discovery. School meant learning how to read and if he learnt it he could dwelve into the stories much deeper, instead of only looking at pictures or imagining what the fairy tales were about.
Harry was anxiously waiting for August to end.