A Wizards Fairytale

Chapter 1

In the tiny cupboard of a nice house on 4 Privet Drive, a little boy sat shivering, cuts and bruises all over his body. This wasn't unusual for the boy, nor was he surprised by such treatment. You see, Harry Potter was used to this, used to shivering every night in a cupboard and being beaten by his uncle. To him, this was normal. He was the Freak after all. No one liked the Freak. The Freak didn't deserve nice things. The Freak was worthless.

Thunder rumbled outside, and Harry resisted the urge to jump. He couldn't make any noise. He'd just get in more trouble. Uncle Vernon would get out the belt. Harry didn't like the belt. It stung when it hit his arms and back. The belt was better than a punch though. Harry had had plenty of those too. He had lots of bruises.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia never let him out of the house. In fact, they liked to pretend he didn't exist. Dudley got to go out all the time, to lots of places. Harry didn't get to go anywhere. Harry was the Freak. He couldn't do anything right. Aunt Petunia had grudgingly sent him to school with Dudley, but she had forbade him to take off his jacket. If he took off his jacket, everyone would see the Freak's scars. The Freak had a lot of them. Nobody ever cared anyway.

Every night, when Harry was just about to fall asleep, he made a wish. He wished for a family of his own, one that loved him or at least liked him. He tried not to hope for too much. He hoped for a mother and a father and maybe even a sister. He didn't want a brother. Dudley was mean enough. He wanted a nice little house and maybe even his own room, a small clean space all his own. He wished for this every night, but it hadn't come true. Harry's only family was the Dursleys. His parents dumped him there as soon as they could according to his aunt. Nobody wanted the freak.

Until, one day on his sixth birthday, Harry was sitting in his cupboard reading a book he had stolen from a classroom. It was a wonderful story about a family that has adventures inside a wardrobe. He had to hide the book since his aunt would never let him have it in the house.

Suddenly, he heard someone knocking on the Dursley's door. Someone, presumably Aunt Petunia, went to answer it. She shrieked, and then there was silence. Harry strained his ears. Then he realized someone was unlocking his cupboard. He squeezed his eyes shut. It was probably Uncle Vernon back with the belt. "Harry," a light voice cooed. This wasn't his aunt or uncle or even his cousin. Nobody ever called him Harry. He opened his eyes. It was a pretty woman with wavy brown hair and tan skin. She had twinkling blue-green eyes. The light illuminating behind her made her look like an angel. She reached out to touch his arm, and he shrinked back. The pretty lady frowned.

"Who are you?" he croaked, his voice hoarse from a lack of food and water.

"I'm your godmother," the pretty lady explained. "My name is Suzanana, but you can call me Aunt Zana."

"I have a godmother?" Harry asked in disbelief.

Zana nodded. "Yep," she confirmed. "And I want you to come live with me."

Harry was shell-shocked. "You want me?" he stuttered. "You want the Freak?"

Zana frowned again. "You're not a freak, Harry," she explained gently. "You're a wonderful little boy. You deserve better than this."

Harry decided to ask a question that had been on his mind for a while. "Where are my parents?"

Zana's face darkened. "Your parents loved you a lot Harry, more than you will ever know, but they let themselves be manipulated by a cruel old man. He's the one who put you here."

"And you want me?" Harry repeated, wanting make sure this was real.

Zana nodded her head fiercely. "Of course I want you," she exclaimed. "You're my godson. I love you." Harry froze. He had never heard anyone say those words to him. "Will you come with me?"