The Lost Potter and the Philosopher's Stone

Midnight Mysteries

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING, FOR THE MOST PART THE CHARACTERS BELONG TO JKROWLING WITH A FEW OF MY OWN CREATIONS ADDED TO THE MIX. I DO NOT OWN THE WORLD THEY ARE IN THEY ARE THE CREATION OF SOMEONE GREATER THAN ME AT WRITING.

The Lost Potter and the Philosophers Stone - Chapter One

"I thought that we’d knocked that rubbish out of you! There is no such thing as magic and you will do better to remember that unless you want to be sent to a freak show!”

Harry Potter was roughly shoved into his bedroom at number four Privet Drive, black hair messy as ever, emerald green eyes seeing luminously into the darkness of the room he had so “kindly” been supplied by his relatives. His face was covered in small, browning bruises that would fade by the time anyone really important saw him. A lightning-bolt scar on his forehead stood out an angry red against the pale white of the unbruised skin on his forehead.

His uncle's yells rebounded off the pealing red walls, they seemed to go on for hours but the yells themselves really only lasted a minute. None of this was the fault of young Mr Potter; the eleven year old boy had only asked his cousin, Dudley Dursley (obese, spoilt, with a personality that an ape would be hard pressed to meet), what the magic word was at the dinner table at least an hour prior.

 

“You’re lucky that me and Petunia were happy to take you in after your parents left you outside on the street, not even them with all their abnormalities couldn’t stand to keep you! If we’d had any sense we’d have sent you to an orphanage where you belong!”

Harry couldn’t have predicted the outrage that had followed. His aunt had swung the heated frying pan at the back of his head (though he had ducked just in time for the frying pan to go over his head, it had still singed the tip of his head causing it to give out a slight smoky smell even an hour later).Uncle Vernon had started to yell, flushing red and swelling to the alarming size that he always seemed to reach when he was annoyed by anyone (‘anyone’ in this case was Harry).

“Lord knows we should have sent you to an insane asylem when we first laid eyes on you. The son of two freaks can’t be expected to grow up nice and normal live every other child, the child of two unloving parents can’t be expected to fit in with everyone who has parents who actually love them! We took you in because you looked so pitiful out there that, out of the kindness of our hearts we took you in! And how do you repay us?”

Idly, Harry noticed that his uncle had started spitting as he ranted. For as long as Harry could remember, the Dursleys had always seemed to dislike him to the fullest extent. His Aunt had been the kindest to him, occasionally shortening the time that he had to spend in his room when he was being punished, she was in fact the one that gave him his room when she realised that the cupboard was getting too small for him. She however, always sneered down her nose at him when in his company, looking at him with a watchful eyes as her husband and her son ripped into Harry at any opportunity. Nobody outside of the family had guessed anything was off, all scars were covered bar the one shaped like a lightning bolt on his forehead which his Aunt complained “made people stare at him”.

And then we raise you to the best of our abilities, giving you everything that people at an orphanage can only dream of. We gave you our food, our water, even giving you a room in our house and you still let us down as soon as you can!”