Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling. I do not make a profit from this; I just borrow the characters to put into my take on a clichéd plot.

Beta: Indie

A/N: Thanks to Indie, my beta. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please review.

Chapter 2

July 31, 1991

Dear Diary,

Today was horrible. My uncle gave me my birthday present. At least that's what he called it. Said only big boys can get a present of this calibre. Does he truly think I'm stupid? And if this present was only for big boys, how come Dudley didn't get one? I know for a fact he didn't. Confused? Well, since you're the only one who will EVER know this, I might as well elaborate. My uncle is a paedophile. Let's just leave it at that.

Vernon truly is a sick bastard, and I hope he burns in hell for what he does. Petunia is no better. She turns the other cheek. Ignores what's right in front of her, and she will get what's coming to her. It's not a threat, merely karma. What goes around comes around. I don't want her to get raped or anything, I wouldn't wish that on anybody, but I do hope she is punished. So, the day had gone on normally. Cooked. Starved. Sent to get mail. Imagine my surprise when I saw a letter addressed to me. To MY cupboard. That meant somebody knew at least some of the abuse and is also turning the other cheek. The letter was written on funny paper. It looked like parchment, but who uses that anymore? Before I could open it, Dudley snatched my letter away from me and handed it to his father. Arsehole. Vernon and Petunia took one look at the letter before paling considerably.

They shot me a murderous look before the whale yelled, "TO YOUR CUPBOARD, FREAK!" How rude. When I get my revenge, I will most definitely be smashing quite a couple of their antique vases. Hopefully that'll show them to mess with Harry Potter. More than likely not, but it's worth a shot. I had stayed in my cupboard for quite some time. When I was let out, my uncle told me that we were leaving. He told me to get ready to take their bags to the car, walking away and mumbling something that sounded like, "How dare those freaks now enter our lives and expect us to hand the boy over to them? Who will cook and clean when he's gone?"

I do believe I have a suggestion for that: GET OFF YOUR LAZY ARSE UP AND DO IT YOURSELF!!! Ah, I feel much better.

So, anyways, we went to this lighthouse on a rock in the sea. It was midnight when the door banged open, and a HUGE man came in, looking for me. Idiot Dudley didn't have the sense to hide. I mean what would've happened if that man wanted to kill him? Although I must admit, despite the man's size, he looked as if he wouldn't hurt a fly. Not intentionally at least. He gave me my letter, after yelling at Vernon, and I read it. I'm a wizard. I'm going to a wizard school. To learn wizard things. Something was definitely wrong with this picture.

The man, introduced as Rubeus Hagrid or just Hagrid, explained things to me. Magic does exist. My parents were magical. They didn't die in a car crash; they were murdered by some psycho wizard. The same psycho wizard who gave me this scar. My scar was more important than I thought, and it was something that made me famous. I was called, in the Wizarding World, the Boy-Who-Lived. Well, shit, if I'm some kind of saviour, don't you think I should have a better name? What happens when I'm old and grey? They'd have to change it to something like: The-Old-Man-Who-Lived-But-Is-Dying-Now. Ha-ha. Another thing, why do people flinch at the name Voldemort? It sounds like something a child made up by scrambling random letters together. Do you think he'd mind if I call him Moldy Voldy? Probably.

Right now, I'm at this pub called the Leaky Cauldron. I am to stay for the rest of the summer (thank god!) and I will have to go get my school supplies. Can you believe they actually wave a wand? A MAGIC WAND? I really need some sleep and have to adjust to this whole 'magic is real' thing. Perhaps I'll let you know how my shopping trip goes.

Harry

***

It took a while for some pieces to fall into place. This diary stated that Harry James Potter was not only abused by his relatives, but it was also implied that he was raped by his uncle. These words must've been the truth; why would somebody write down lies in a diary? Plus, these words came from Harry James Potter himself. He couldn't possibly have known that somebody was going to open his diary and make copies to give to a whole house. Speaking of that, Draco cleared his throat. Everybody looked up.

"I think, perhaps, we should set an age limit," he drawled. Many students from younger years, unsurprisingly, were against it.

"We've seen much more, and I want to know how Potter copes with his abuse!" a third-year boy called out.

"How about we ask Uncle Sev?" Draco compromised.

As if he knew when to appear, Snape entered the Common Room. His face was slightly pale.

"Are you OK, Uncle Sev?" the blonde asked.

"Potter is in a coma."

Many Slytherins were surprised at this new information.

"How?" Blaise questioned. He didn't think he could take any more shocks.

"He fell down the stairs and bashed his skull against the ground really hard. He has a massive concussion and slipped into a coma." Silence.

"Uncle Sev, how far have you gotten in reading Potter's diary?"

"I read the first entry. Why?"

"You should read the second." Throwing his godson a confused look, Snape took out his copy of the diary and skimmed through entry quickly. After a few minutes, he paled even more, if that was even possible.

"Our question is: Should we set an age limit on who reads it? The rest of the pages might have explicit details of his torture."

Snape sighed. "It truly depends on your parents; you should ask them. Until then, only fourth-years and up are allowed to read it."

***

Ron went back to the Gryffindor common room. He entered quietly and was shocked to see most of the house there.

"We heard what happened to Harry. The portraits told us," Ginny murmured quietly. She looked up, tears in her eyes. Harry was her brother in everything but blood. "Is he going to be OK?"

"I don't know," Ron whispered. Gryffindor house looked defeated. "We should probably get some sleep. I'm sure, if we go in little groups at a time, we might be able to visit him." They nodded, and as one, left for to get some sleep. Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Dean, and Seamus stood behind.

"What's the matter?" Hermione asked.

"I think Dumbledore is up to something. He looked sad to hear Harry was in the coma, but I could just feel that something was off," Ron replied.

"Don't worry. We'll keep a close eye on him. He won't hurt Harry. Not again," Hermione said.

***

Everyone at the Great Hall, except the teachers and the Slytherins, were looking at the Gryffindor table in confusion. The usually happy students were all looking like kicked puppies. Just then, Dumbledore got up and cleared his throat to make an announcement.

"Students, I regret to tell you that Mr. Harry Potter is in a coma. He fell down the stairs and bashed his head on the floor rather hard and has a massive concussion. We don't know when he'll wake. I sincerely ask for everyone's discretion in this delicate matter."

As Dumbledore sat back down, Hermione looked at Ron out of the corner of her eye. She was frowning and definitely didn't look happy with the way the headmaster had laid out Harry's condition to the entire school population. Ron caught her eye and nodded grimly. Several other Gryffindors, mostly the ones who met in the common room the night before, shifted in their seats uncomfortably. Their headmaster's behaviour was odd and breezy. Lately, he seemed to be doing everything based on some hidden agenda. Harry's 'accident' was the last drop. They would definitely find out what was going on.

***

Snape, now done with his dinner, took out his copy of Ha-POTTER's diary and began to read. Of course nobody knew he was reading it. His copy was disguised as a Potions magazine, and anybody who would look at the pages would read whatever was on a Potions magazine.

***

August 1, 1991

Dear Diary,

I went shopping today. It was pretty cool. The wizards' bank is called Gringotts and is run by goblins. I had no idea such creatures existed. I went to the front desk, and with manners the Dursleys beat into me, asked if I could go to my vault. Didn't know wizards had vaults and not bank accounts. Well, he asked me for my key, and I gave him the small gold object that Hagrid had left me. We went to my vault, and imagine my surprise when I found out I was rich. ME. Scrawny boy wearing a baby walrus' HAND-ME-DOWNS! You know, I could've been here living the life, but I was sent to my family. That's a laughable word. Family is supposed to love you, feed you, give you a room, and other things a family does. Not hate you, starve you, stuff you in a cupboard, rape you, enslave you, and other things that the Dursleys subjected me to. Inside the vault, I saw a book of family lineages. I took it. Maybe I could learn some of my history. It was a big book of 'pureblood' lineages. As soon as I took it out of the vault, it shrunk. Griphook told me that only a Potter could read it. I have to say 'Engorgio' to make it big again.

Another thing, some old man has complete control of my money. That old man was none other than Albus Dumbledore, my new headmaster. Why would he be stealing my money? I left the bank and went to Flourish and Blotts. Got myself a couple books... or 25. Maybe I got carried away but I seriously hate not knowing things. Wouldn't want to get labelled as ignorant.

After I got my books, I read a couple (mainly the 'pureblood' family lineages book) before dropping them off at my room and heading towards Madame Malkin's. I had to get my school robes. There was another boy in there. He had his blonde hair slicked back and held an aristocratic air around him. He was pale and had grey eyes. What I admired most about him was his facade. His mask. It was very well constructed, probably created when he was young. I almost couldn't see through it. Almost. He was being fitted, and I was on the stool right next to him.

"Hogwarts?" he drawled. I nodded.

"My mum is looking at the wands," he stated.

"Don't the wands choose the wizard?" I asked, having read it in one of my other books.

"You try telling my mother that. Where are your parents?"

I stared at him. "Dead."

He apologised, "Sorry." He didn't sound it. Honestly, how rude to apologise and not mean it! "Do you play Quidditch? It's a shame they don't allow first years their own brooms. My dad says it's a shame if I don't get picked on the team." All parents say that. I shook my head no.

"I grew up in the Muggle world."

His face darkened. "So, your parents weren't like us?" he practically snarled. I merely raised an eyebrow.

"They were magical, if that's what you mean. Why do you hate Muggles?" The boy looked at me.

"They have no magic and are inferior to us. My father said so." I didn't ask why his father hated Muggles; I asked why HE hated Muggles. Obviously, he's grown up to believe his father's word is law. Just like Dudley has.

"They have created a lot of useful things without the aid of magic. For example, while we have the Killing Curse, a curse that kills ONE person, they have invented a bomb that could kill thousands. So, are they truly the inferior race, or are we?" I countered, and he looked startled. Pity he held such beliefs about Muggles; we could've been the best of friends. Hopefully, in the future, he will change those beliefs.

When he was done he left, after telling me his name. Draco Malfoy. Ah! The Malfoys are a pureblood Slytherin family. No wonder he held such animosity towards Muggles. They seriously need an attitude adjustment. This entire WORLD needs an attitude adjustment. From my understanding, the Slytherins are prejudiced, and everybody else is no better. In my books, it says the feud between Slytherin and Gryffindor has been going on since the Founders' time. It is currently Slytherin vs. everybody. What they don't seem to get is that they are currently against 3/4 of the world's population. They're outnumbered, and Slytherins WILL die out if they don't change their attitude. However, before I judge anybody, I will observe them at school. See if I can see underneath the underneath.

Harry

***

Snape was shaken. Not that it showed. And, even though he would forever deny it, Har-POTTER had a point. They were outnumbered and up against 3/4 of the population. Looking up, he realised dinner had just finished. Snape stood up and left the Great Hall, his Slytherins trailing behind him.

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