The Truth Of The Chosen One

chapter 1

(6 years ago, little winging, Surry)

Harry's POV:
Italics is sarcastic

My fragile and malnourished body lay naked in a pool of my own blood. My oh so lovely uncle left me locked up after hitting me with his belt 50 times for the mistake of burning the bacon. He is a sadist who gets off on watching those weaker than him suffer. He was a sadist and like many sadists he had his favourite ways of making others hurt, over time he became progressively worse. His temper frayed quicker, his anger was sharper and his punishments harsher until he discovered that he could do more than emotionally and physically molest me.

Over the years, unlike many, instead of breaking and crumbling, I grew angry. A hatred festered inside of me, a spitefulness not just for them but for the world and fate that had been cruel enough to deal me the shitty deck of cards I had. The young innocent boy with sparkling jade eyes was dead, was dead the moment he was left with his relatives. I was all that remained, a scarred, hard eyed boy that festered in his wrath.

Many claimed that the Dursleys' deaths were unjust but I know the truth, they abused a child, they exploited and profited off of my sweat, blood and tears. They were not innocent, they should have suffered in life but now they will suffer for eternity in the darkest depths of death.

The Dursleys weren't the only one that was responsible for my TORTURE, no, they were the executioner but there was still the judge and jury left to take the blame.
Dumbledore played judge in my sentencing, he concluded that my brother was the boy who lived and that I was nothing but a squib. He sealed my fate at the hands of monster to execute his master manipulation to fulfil the prophecy.

However the worst was the jury, those who were supposed to love me unconditionally, to cherish and nurture my young soul turned their backs on me. The left me, the judge had a unanimous vote. My parents did not care enough to keep a child that would burden the family name.

As I lay in my blood, the thoughts replayed through my head, the memories assulted me and I felt like I was slowly going insane Everything was spinning, colours danced and sounds echoed and then everything went silent.

Something in my brain snapped, I went into a deadly calm, a calm that I've never experienced before. Ignore all of the pain, the scratches to bumps and my burning all the whip marks and I went downstairs. I saw my family or my suppose family sitting there.
"What are you doing down here you good-for-nothing freak?" My oversized cousin yelled. All I could do was smile at him, my eyes holding the insanity of a monster.

I non-verbally cast "vatain", it was one of my own creations from when I was six. My uncle frozen and hit to the floor like a stone.
The spell I heard used was like stupefy but it tortured it's victim while frozen. He screamed out in agony. I had learnt about spells and such but none of the ones in the standard ligh books seemed to act right. My own spells created to accommodate my dark core seemed to work more than perfect, it was as if my magic was just a snake coiled to trike when sensing pray.

I shot the imperious curse at my aunt's with orders to kill her son, now is my uncle screaming on the floor and my cousin shrieks as his mother guts him I finally felt satisfaction. Not guilt nor excitement just pure satisfaction at the agony I had inflicted.

Present time:
My face had high cheekbones with two different coloured eyes. One was avada kedavra green that shone in the darkness. However the other was completely black obsidian.

My skin with ivory and my hair is bone white I used to have tan complexion and raven black hair but my magic got more physical manifestation after I got the blocks off my core. The all powerful Albus-too many-names-dumbledore though it would be a good idea to make me a squib.