Unusual Beginnings

(P.S. I do not know anything about adoption in English so I am making things up as I go.

P.S.S. This fanfic, or any of my fanfics, does not support violence, child abuse and the like. Thank you. I am just here to inform people that these incidents do happen.)

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UNUSUAL BEGINNINGS 05- THE BOY STILL LIVES

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(An All Harry Chapter.

Timeline jumps for months at a time and goes back in the later chapters. Sorry.)

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"One child at a time, one small question answered

Just one story read, one promise kept.

This is all it takes to nurture, Change tomorrow, touch the future,

We can turn the world around... One child.

One hand held so tight, one dream lifted higher,

One shoulder strong to lean upon,

One person makes the difference

One heart that truly listens,

We can turn the world around, one child at a time.

We all have a part to play, teacher, friend or mentor.

We'll make it a brighter day with children in the center.

Do you have the heart to be a partner?

Give these young dreams strong winds so they can fly?

One voluntary heart will go the distance,

The future lies in upturned eyes,

You'll never stand so tall, as when you help somebody small.

We can turn the world around, one child at a time."

(A/N: Song: "One Child" by Nnenna Freelon)

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January 1985

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Harry had been in Saint Anne's Orphanage his whole life. His only living relatives, the Dursleys had left him there a few days after he was found on their doorstep. He didn't mind. He was happy in the orphanage. The nurses treated him well enough. He had a close knit of friends which was the closest thing he had to a family, and Harry was always very thankful for everything he had.

Harry had just washed his face before he getting ready to go down for breakfast, when a young strawberry blonde-haired boy who was Harry's age entered the room.

"Harry!" yelled the boy. "Come on! Breakfast!"

"Coming, Martin!" answered Harry as the boy walked back out of the door where he'd entered.

Harry looked at his trunk at the bottom of his bed and decided to put on his best and cleanest shirt that the nurse had given him the a few days before. He knew that this day is not like the others. Today was one of the few days in the year where couples and families visit the orphans and decide on which child they want to adopt. Half of Harry's friends had been adopted already and according to the letters they had sent him from their new homes, they were all extremely happy. Harry wanted the happiness that his friends experienced so he decided to go the extra mile of trying to impress potential parents. After putting on a green long-sleeved T-shirt and his only slacks- for the rest of his trousers were denim jeans, - he headed off to the Mess Hall for breakfast.

It was exceedingly crowded but he easily spotted the blonde-haired boy that had called him earlier. He took a tray from the serving lady and then screamed "Martin!" as he waved over at his friend.

Martin was already eating when Harry took a seat beside him. "You took long," Martin said as he shoved a slice of bacon into his mouth.

"I know. I wanted to dress up. I want to get adopted too!" said Harry, slicing his bananas into his cereal. "I wanna get adopted by nice parents like Jake, Michael, and Wilbert's."

"I wanna get adopted too," said Martin. "But I think my mum is going to come back for me so I don't wanna get adopted just yet."

"You've met your mum?" Harry questioned, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Yeah. She visited me once."

Harry's curiosity was suddenly sparked by Martin's remarks. "What are mums like?" he asked, taking a gulp of milk.

"Well, my mum wasn't that bad. She just visited for an hour and then told me she is going to come back for me soon."

"Oh. I don't think my mum is going to get me," said Harry, his chin now touching his chest.

"Why not?"

Harry looked down on the table, his lips curled. "The nurses said that she might have died in a car crash with my dad."

Martin puts put his arms around Harry. "I'm sorry Harry. If my mum takes me, I can ask her to take you too."

"Really?"

"Yeah! You're my best friend and my mum is nice so she might take you too."

"That would be great!" exclaimed Harry. A hand tapped Harry on the back. When he turned around, it was a red-haired woman with sparkling brown eyes. She was tall, pretty and seemed friendly enough that Harry and Martin smiled back at her.

"Hi."

"Hi," said Harry a little nervously.

"Aren't you a cute little boy? What's your name?"

"Harry, ma'am. Harry Potter."

"Hmm," said the lady, touching his forehead. "I will talk to you later, Harry. I'll let you eat your breakfast first."

"Okay," answered Harry, a smile on his face.

The woman patted Harry's head and walked towards an incredibly muscular man. She and the man looked back at him and waved at him.

"Harry!" exclaimed Martin. "That woman might want to adopt you."

Harry looked back at Martin but kept glancing at the couple from the corner of his eye. "You think so?"

"Yeah. That's how Jake got adopted. A lady wanted to talk to him and then a few months later he was adopted!"

"But if they adopt me, then your mum can't adopt me," Harry said sadly.

"We can still be friends."

"Yeah." Harry held out his hand. "Friends forever?"

"Friends forever!" They gave each other a hearty handshake and continue to finish their breakfast.

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Months had passed and Harry was adopted by the red haired woman and her husband. They were the Jones'. The mother, Eliza, was a housewife while the husband, Walton, worked for a construction company. They had two boys, twelve-year-old twins Jerry and Justin. Both boys were twice the size of Harry but they were nice and gentle when they played with new brother.

They greeted Harry with a warm welcome the day he was adopted. They gave him everything that he needed: new clothing, food on the table, his own and the loving care that he needed.

Children's Social Services visited him a couple of times to make sure that Harry Potter was receiving the best care possible. The regular visits ended after a few months and Harry was still treated as if he was a real Jones boy.

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Half a year passed living with the Jones, when Walton was laid off. He tried to find other jobs but no one would hire him...and that was when he began to drink. It was sudden that even his wife saw the noticeable change in her husband right away. But even she and the boys changed their treatment on Harry.

The whole family started to become intolerant of Harry, finding him lazy and useless. They smothered him with chores that a five-year-old certainly could not handle. Harry was scared and frightened that he decided to run away and head back into the orphanage.

He ran away but about a mile away from the house, Walton found him and tossed him back into the house. Walton was extremely angry with Harry that he decided to punish the boy by making him live in the cold basement rather than his own room.

From then on, he was treated worse than a rabid dog. He was fed with nothing but table scraps. His clothes were not only hand-me-downs, practically dish rags. He was seldom groomed and his hygiene became horrible. Harry was forced to sleep on the floor with nothing but a thin cotton blanket to separate his body from the freezing floor.

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A few weeks before his fifth birthday, Harry had forgotten to tidy up the twin boys' bedroom, one of his many chores to do everyday which included washing the dishes, throwing out the trash, scrubbing the kitchen floor and, cutting the grass... (And there are more except the writer is too lazy to think of more!) Mr. Jones arrived that evening, drunk as usual and noticed the undone chore. He called for Harry up to the third floor room.

"Harry, get up here!" shouted Walton.

Harry ran up to the third floor, trying to dry up his soaking wet hands on his apron. "Yes sir?" he asked panting as he rushed into the room.

"What is the meaning of this?" shrilled Walton. "Didn't I tell you time and time again to clean the boy's room everyday?"

Harry started to get scared. "I did. They must've dirtied it..."

Walton raises his hand on Harry. "Are you saying my boys are dirty?"

Harry stared at the hand that was about to hit him. "I didn't say that, sir." His knees started to tremble.

"You did! You stupid ignorant, malignant pus!"

"No sir, I didn't say that," cried Harry, tears starting to stream down his face.

Walton's hand struck Harry on the check and the five-year old ended up on the floor. "You are calling me a liar!"

"No sir please! Stop plea--" another strike silenced Harry. His face began to turn red.

"You little useless ingrate! I feed you! I clothe you! And what do I get? Disrespect!" Walton grabbed the boy by his shirt collar and carried him out of the room.

"Aah!" screamed Harry, his feet no longer touching the floor.

"You piece of shit!!!" screamed Walton as he threw Harry down the stairs. Harry rolled down three flights of stairs. Walton ran after him, not to help him, but to grab him up and throw him across the living room floor.

At this time, Harry's lip was twice as larger as it usually was and nose had started to bleed. He looked at his hands. "Please stop! I am sorry! I am sorry!"

Still, Walton did not stop. He dragged the boy again to the entrance of the basement. He threw the boy down the steps. As Harry hit the cement floor of the basement, his left arm had broken in two. He screamed in agony. His vision had started to come into a blur by the stars he is beginning to see.

A second later, Walton was on top of him, hitting his chest with his strong arms. Harry kicked his gonads, which got Walton off him for a few seconds. But when Walton came back onto him he started pounding his head on the concrete until Harry had lost consciousness.

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After the accident, Harry was then taken to the Hospital, affiliated with the orphanage. When the doctors and nurses saw Harry, they were surprised that he was still alive. Harry's skull had cracked, his left arm was in two pieces and a few of his ribs seemed to be broken. Harry stayed in the hospital for weeks and was unconscious the day of his birthday. When he had gained consciousness, he was sent back to the orphanage, no longer the quiet boy he once was, but a boy constantly bitter and angry.

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When Harry was sent back to the orphanage, the nurses treated him like they did before but he was a different boy than they were accustomed to. He was bitter, easily irritated and had turned violent. The nurses knew that Harry never fought with boys before but after his recovery, Harry hated everyone who tried to tick him off. Even his old best friend, Martin, was scared of him. Martin ran away from Harry every chance he got because Harry began to hang out with troublemakers and other disturbed children.

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Autumn 1987

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Harry woke up from the crying he heard from another boy across the room. That certain boy had disturbed his other twenty roommates' sleep for days already and it was starting to bother Harry. The crying boy had awakened the other orphans in the room. Of course, the nurses don't really care about every fuss any of the orphans made so calling any of the authority figures wouldn't do much help.

"Stop crying, Brutus, or I'll beat you silly!" screamed Shane, a boy Harry's age.

Brutus had not stopped crying and now accompanied it with a kicking fit. "Brutus, shut up already!" Harry exclaimed, ready to get out of his bed. "If you do not stop crying in ten seconds, Shane and I will lock you in the closet and not let you out for the whole day!" The boy, Brutus, was five years old, two years younger than Harry but Harry didn't seem to care about Brutus' age. He cared about getting more time to sleep peacefully.

This made the boy cry more, but Shane and Harry showed no pity. "Ten, nine, eight..." They stopped at "two."

Harry looked at the poor boy angrily. "Two seconds, Brutus. Two. One. Zero!" Brutus was still crying when Shane and Harry ran towards him, shoving him inside the closet. Brutus' screams were muffled.

"Finally! Some peace and quiet." Harry and Shane had returned to their beds.

Harry didn't get to sleep right away. 'How could someone just cry like that?' he asked himself. 'Brutus was crying for his parents but then they died before he could even remember them. They're dead! Crying wouldn't help get them back. Besides, I never cried about my dead parents. Why can't he just shut up!' Harry suddenly realized that Brutus had finally stopped crying. So he just went back to sleep.

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"Hope the 'Brute' stays in that closet forever," Shane said as he gulped down his milk. "I wanted to really pound him last night. He makes too much noise,"
"Nah. No need for him to stay there forever," debated Harry as he took a bite of the stale bread. "I just want him to stay quiet. I haven't slept for days."

An enormous boy, Richard, walked towards Harry and Shane. "So, are you two planning to help me ransack the new kid's stuff?"

Harry and Shane looked at each other and smiled. "Yeah!" they said in unison and ran with Richard to the new boy's room.

Brutus walked into the lunchroom, unable to tell the cook what he wanted. His voice never came back after that.

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Fall 1988

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Petunia Dursley was baking a cake for Dudley's birthdays. The cake would have been easier to make if only Dudley could wait until the icing was properly decorated atop the cake.

"Dudley, stop it! Let me finish icing it first!" Petunia yelped, carrying Dudley out to the living room. "Now, ask your father if you can open your presents now. Alright sweetums?"

Dudley ran to the garage, while Petunia continued to bake another cake. She cracked the eggs, but instead of the gooey yolks and the whites inside the egg, she found a familiar crumpled letter with a red seal on it. She hurriedly opened it and reads:

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Dear Dursleys,

I have left Harry Potter in your care only years ago and I have been wondering how he is doing. I will be visiting your house soon. Don't worry. You won't even notice that I am there.

Albus Dumbledore

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"Vernon!" Petunia screamed in panic that she almost tripped over herself.

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Albus Dumbledore knew about little Harry living in an orphanage the time he wrote the letter. He knew about Harry living with a nice family and recently found out that he had been abused. Dumbledore was happy to hear that Harry was sent back to the orphanage but he didn't realize that physical and mental harm was already done to the boy.

But one more thing plagued his mind: Was his decision to make the Dursleys take Harry into home going to be a good decision? The Dursleys weren't the best people in the world, but they are family, Dumbledore thought. Better family than strangers. Or is it?

He wished he could've done better for the boy. He wished he could take him back to the Wizarding world. But no. Not with Harry's temperament and already lousy upbringing. Not yet. Not until he is old enough to understand.

He wished that he could've hidden Harry in the Wizarding world if it weren't for the scar on his head that would've been a dead giveaway that Harry was "The Boy who Lived." Fame would give the boy a big head, not to mention that people will spoil him rotten. Death Eaters who were still loyal to Voldemort would trample the poor boy the second they recognize him. Not to mention that Harry would receive about a couple of million death threats a day.

Dumbledore didn't want that. No matter how bad it might be in the Muggle world, was much worse to put him in the Wizarding world.

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Harry had been with the Dursleys for a few months now and he didn't find much difference living there and living in the orphanage. At least at the orphanage, he was treated better and had more to eat. At the orphanage, he was one of the bosses. At the Dursleys he was being bullied. At least at the orphanage, some people would remember his birthday.

Dudley, only about a year younger than Harry- though about a hundred pounds larger- would order him around like a valet. If Harry resisted, his Uncle Vernon would just box his ear or hit him with a broom. Harry knew he couldn't fight back from him. Vernon could just sit on him and his bones would be turned into mush. Harry missed his life at the orphanage. At least there he had Shane and Richard to talk to.

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Albus Dumbledore apparated into the Dursley kitchen, with an Invisibility Cloak covering his entire body. He found it coincidental that James Potter had given it to him to hide and here he was using it to check upon James' son.

Dumbledore walked around the Muggle house, trying not to trip on wires or anything else that was of Muggle nature. By the lounge, he saw a young boy, cleaning a rather large mess on the carpet, his face crooked as he looks at the lady yelling at her.

The tall skinny lady was rolling her eyes at the boy. "I told you many times not to eat in the sitting..."

"I bloody hell did not eat in the sitting room!" screamed the boy back. "Go blame your bastard son for this. He's been the one who's been drinking the grape juice!"
The lady slapped his face and boxes his ears. "Don't you dare talk to me or my son like that! You ingrate!"

The boy glared at her, his eyes narrowing like a snake's, and then continued to clean up the mess. The lady left the boy and toppled the bucket he was using, causing more mess but she didn't seem to care. The boy starts to curse numerous times that Dumbledore was left in awe.

'So this is what had happened to The Boy Who Lived,' Dumbledore said to himself. All he could do was sigh and feel sorry for young Harry. A well-known hero in his toddler years now reduced to a floor cleaner and a bitter child. If only Dumbledore had done something.

'I'll make it up to you, Harry. Once you get back, I'll make it up to you.' Dumbledore hung his head low as he stepped back into the kitchen to disapparate back into the Wizarding world.