Magic's Unfinished Symphony (Harry Potter Fanfic)

Chapter 1

July 31st,1992
A blast that knocked a door off its hinges.

A ginger haired woman pleading for the safety of her son.

A bright green light and the woman dropped to the floor.

A dark figure whispering apologies before another flash of green light.

With a jolt Harry woke up with cold sweat erupting all over his frail body and his black, untamable fringe of hair plastered to his forehead. He looked up and found the blurry yet familiar texture of wood that was right above him. The raven-haired boy took his circular glasses off the side of his pillow and put them on with a frown. He had been shoved into his less than comfortable room the minute he walked into this house. His frown turned into a smile at the thought of what he just spent the past 9 months doing.

You see, Harry here was not a normal person. In fact Harry Potter had discovered a whole new world, a magical one. Where witches and wizards used what muggles(non-magicals) would deem supernatural powers. At Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he had found two friends that were willing to be with him through thick and thin. But as friends are made, enemies are inevitable. A particular greasy haired potions master seemed to hate Harry the moment he stepped into that cold dungeon room and it always made him feel like he would always be hated , no matter what he did. Then there was Draco Malfoy. The platinum blonde Slytherin that turned into Harry's 'rival' when Harry refused the boy's friendship. At first, he thought it was just because he was the 'boy who lived' (boy who refused to die in his personal opinion) but one or two times he thought his saw a look of longing in the boys eyes...

Harry shook his head at this train thought while telling himself that the Malfoys were a dark family, that were all Slytherin and therefore evil. But a small voice at the back of his mind was whispering something to him. You were meant to be a Slytherin too...does that mean you're evil?

Then there was the feared Lord Voldemort, most notorious Dark Lord for the past 5 decades. Yet he had met his end eleven years ago due to something that conspired that lonely Halloween night. Yet he wasn't truly gone. No, the vengeful Lord had infiltrated Hogwarts with the hope of gaining immortality through Nicolas Flamel's Philosopher's Stone. Yet when they fought, something felt wrong. Very wrong.

God he has so confused. All throughout last year he had felt a bit empty, like something had been taken from him but he didn't know what. He even remembered wanting to apologize to Draco once but an invisible force in him decided to refute his initial will.
Looking to the worn down clock Harry realized that he had been 12 for more than two hours yet he didn't realise. The Dursleys at least made sure that he was miserable any day of the year so he didn't even see the need for it. With these depressing thoughts, Harry Potter went back into an uncomfortable slumber.

He was woken up again by the bangs that pounded unto his room door. He was greeted by the gruff voice of his meaty uncle shouting in his usual tone.
"GET UP BOY AND COME MAKE US BREAKFAST!". Harry inwardly scoffed and thought, bitterly. The supposed savior of the wizarding world, being forced to be a mere slave to ignorant muggles...oh the irony. He slowly began to understand why the Slytherins were against muggles so much. Anything they feared had to be destroyed and even Harry knew that wizards don't stand a chance against half of the weaponry that the muggles had at their disposal.
Begrudgingly, the ravenette took a quick shower, wore his baggy hand-me-down clothes and went to the kitchen to start making breakfast for his perfectly normal family.

Harry had set down their breakfast and him getting denied food as usual. He began to work on the heap of pots and pans waiting for him at the counter. He would have been able to finish up if not the sudden bout of pain that struck his lower abdomen. The sound of broken china could be heard throughout the house and Harry was sure that he was doomed. What seemed like a second later, the ravenette found himself being roughly held by his shirt by the hand of his obese uncle. "How dare you, useless freak! We feed and give you the clothes on that ungrateful back of yours and this is how you behave?! We've put up with your freakishness for far too long!" With that obvious threat, one second Harry was holding his bleeding hand, the next Harry found that same left hand being placed over the fire on the stove. He should have screamed at the smell of burning flesh but he didn't. All that kept him from doing so were the dark thoughts swarming his head space; ranging from cold murder to hours of excruciating pain.