Harry Potter enjoyed the night. The nighttime gave him a quiet he wasn't used to during the day. He usually was only outside during the daytime when he worked outside. During the night he normally found himself in his cupboard. It was odd not to hear the hum of Lawnmowers and the laughter of children smaller then himself. He listened to the cricket's soft chirps as he dug his finger into the moist ground. He hadn't moved from where he was lying since he had been forced outside an hour ago. He had lain on his stomach and stared at the grass. He didn't mean to break the vase. He told them it was an accident. The hand mark on his cheek still stung from where his Aunt had slapped him. Well, he thought, at least she didn't shove him in the cupboard. He pulled his finger out and stared at the dirt-covered appendage. That was curious though. Why would his Aunt just throw him outside when she could have locked him in the cupboard? A hoot from an owl -well, he thought it was an owl, what else hooted? - Sounded above him and he glanced up into the dark treetops just as the hoot was repeated.

“An owl?” He murmured. He wondered what the owl was doing up there. Well he knew why the owl was up there. They did live in trees.

 There was another hoot, and curiously enough, there was a flap of wings as the owl landed in front of him.

 “Hoot?” The bird asked him staring at him with its giant eyes. Harry reached out slowly and carefully before hesitating right above its head. After the bird didn't attempt to nip at his fingers he rubbed the bird's head softly and it hooted in contentment.

 “Hi.” Harry whispered softly. He glanced at the bird and saw something attached to the owls leg.

 "A letter? How odd…” He slowly went to take the letter off and-

 “BOY! Get inside!” His Aunt screeched from the doorway. “Your Uncle wishes to have a word with you!” He flinched inwardly as he stood. That was never good. The owl who was shocked by his Aunt's wailing it took off into flight.

 “Wait,” He whispered softly. Don't leave me with them, he silently begged. It was to late the bird had disappeared and left him alone. He hurried inside, not yet ready to face his uncle's wrath, but he wasn't stupid enough to stay outside to face a fiercer punishment.

 Later he found himself smothering himself with his pillow trying to stifle his sobs. Crying was bad, he knew it, but he just hurt so badly and he couldn't stop crying. He was lying on his stomach in his cupboard. Uncle Vernon had been very angry with Harry for breaking the vase, and after his beating he had been shoved into the small place so they could be without his 'Freakiness.' He should've been used to the beatings by then, he had been punished like that ever since he could remember, then again, how could anyone get used to being beaten? He wasn't sure anyone could. If they could, well, Harry thought they would have to be without feeling. He wondered curiously if he could be apathetic, with a perfect façade. He doubted it, and by the time his sobs had turned into soft hiccups he was almost asleep.

 He was almost angry with himself. Perhaps his Aunt and Uncle were right, maybe he did deserve everything he was getting. He felt his brain burn with these thoughts. Harry's mind felt angry and peaceful at the same time, like he had suddenly found something important out.

 Harry was unsure as to what it was like to be a normal child-not a freak like him, or someone as spoiled as Dudley- with parents who actually cared. He felt his stomach ache in longing for parents of some sort.

 He wished for parents, or someone, who would care about him and love him.

 It was futile because, as always, because his wishes never came true.

Xoxoxoxoxo

 What do you say to someone who stares at you with awe? Harry thought glancing at a tall, Hufflepuff girl who had been staring at him for many a second. The girl's friend chattered away happily, blissfully unaware that she had lost the other girls attention. Harry wanted to know what the girl was thinking as she stared, unblinking, as if he was some kind of sideshow. When was he supposed to get used to this? The stares, the wide-eyed expressions that haunted his every move, which made him, feel uneasy. His relatives were right, he was a freak, and as much as he hated to admit it, it was true. He was still unsure, was he a freak because he was just freaky? Or was it because of his newfound fame? Maybe, it was because he was sorted into the wrong house. There were many reasons, any could've been right.

 “Katie,” the other Hufflepuff girl hissed. “Don't stare, it's rude. He's just a firsty, you're scaring him!”

 “But,” the tall girl looked at the smaller one. “Don't you know who that is?”

 “Yes, that's Harry Potter, now stop staring and pay attention to me!”

 “But, Martha,” the girl's voice lowered a little, but Harry could still hear her. “I heard he came to school with bruises, and he pas -“ Martha clapped her hand over Katie's mouth, essentially quieting her.

 “Sh! That's none of your business!” Martha scolded her and then grabbed onto Katie's arm with her other hand. She then dragged Katie away and Harry felt as though a weight had been lifted from his entire body.

 The recent week had been very upsetting for him.

 Everything had all started with his sorting…

 “SLYTHERIN!” The loud voiced boomed in his ears and he felt faint. It was to loud, everything was to bright, and then with the name of his house called out, it became all to quiet. No one spoke, no one moved, if he were to be brash, he would say no one even brought in or let out a breath of air. Everything was wrong. He felt hot then cold, then hot, then cold, and with each change of temperature he shivered. His body shook and he felt like curling up and dying. He stood, shakily, and then tentatively pulled the sorting hat off his head and handed it back.

 It was still to quiet as he headed to the Slytherin table. He stared at their faces, some looked happy, others looked angry, and the rest looked uncaring or unreadable. His breath was loud in his own ears. One, two, three, he counted his steps, four five si- Suddenly, he felt as though something was very wrong, more so then usual. The floor seemed to be coming towards his face! How odd, he thought as gasps went around the room, the floor didn't usually jump up. Then again, the floor could've been different for wizards. Then, just as he was about to meet the floor, it all faded to a dark black, and he felt, and saw nothing.

 When he awoke, the world seemed to be upside down. He wondered briefly where his glasses were.

 “Malnourishment, dehydration, bruises, and more.” A woman's voice floated across the room. Whoever she was speaking about seemed to cause the woman great worry.

 “What do you want me to do?” The voice sounded smooth, and irritated.

 'Secrets will forever hinder you.' The Sorting hat's voice bounced off the inside of his head.

 “I think you shou-“ She was cut off by the sharp voice irritated man.

 “There's nothing we can do.”

 “But we need to help him,” her voice was soft now. 

 “This never happens with any other students.”

 “What do you mean?”

 “You don't treat any other abused student this way.” His voice was a low hiss. “It's because he's Harry bloody Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived.”

 “That's not it!” She was starting to sound irritated as well.

 “Now you're just lying." The air of finality sent a shiver down Harry's spine. "Dumbledore said that the boy is safest there. We mustn't treat the child like he is special!” The man's voice was down to a low growl.

 Harry was unsure as to whether or not had done something wrong. This man seemed very angry with him, and he didn't know why. He was upset. He reached down and gripped his stomach tightly. His short nails dug into his skin sharply. He bit his bottom lip to keep from making noises. For some odd reason he felt guilty for causing this man to dislike him.

 "Now Severus," they moved farther away from his bed. "Don't allow your old grudges to get in the way! This is Harry! He is not James."

 Harry closed his eyes and stopped squeezing his stomach. One salty tear strolled down his cheek. Severus, Harry's brain murmured. His eyes flew open, and something in his mind pieced together. Severus Snape. His Head of house.

 "You have no bloody clue what you are talking about! We will not speak of this again!" Harry could hear the anger spewing out of his Professor.

 Severus Snape, Harry nibbled his bottom lip. This man already disliked him, and they had never even met before. He knew the answer then, he could feel the freak rolling off of him. His relatives were right. He was a stupid freak, and everyone hated him.

 No! His brain screamed. He would not allow this! This school was his saving grace. From that moment on Harry Potter vowed that Severus Snape, head of Slytherin house, would see that Harry Potter was no freak. He would prove this to him, even if it took him his very last breath.