Chapter 1: The Boy Who Lived

The waves crashed violently on the jagged rocks below. He'd been staring down at the meeting point of ocean and cliff for hours now.

As he looked back on his life up to this point, he wondered why it had taken him so long to think of this solution.

Starved and neglected as a child, he grew up scrawny and weak. He'd also been forced to endure countless beatings at the hands of his cousin.

As he grew older every manner of chore had been heaped upon him. From cooking and dishes, to gardening and home repair, he'd been forced to work for what food he did receive.

His cousin gathered like-minded friends, who joined in on his beatings. The only consolation being that he could often outrun his tormenters.

He had thought his troubles had come to an end on his eleventh birthday, when he learned that he was a wizard.

He was whisked away to a wondrous world of magic where he learned he was famous! He was Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.

Unfortunately his fame brought him more trouble than benefit. He nearly died several times that first year at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but he was so enamored with magic, that he didn't dwell on it.

Then his life really started to go downhill. A twisted cycle of summer with his horrible relatives, then off to school where his life was in constant danger.

Things got worse and worse, and Harry grew bitter. By this point he had learned how to hide his true feelings, so few knew how he really felt.

The only exception was the anger that refused to be tamped down. The rage would bubble to the surface, and cause him even more trouble.

The one shining ray of hope was his godfather who'd escaped prison. A man who'd been wrongly convicted, and spent over a decade trapped in the wizard prison of Azkaban, Sirius Black was Harry's ticket to a better life.

Unfortunately, he was still wanted by the ministry. No matter the testimony or evidence, Minister Cornelius Fudge refused to exonerate Sirius.

The escaped prisoner was too useful as a scapegoat. Still, the hope for a better life was there. Then it was gone in an instant.

Sirius was dead, and Harry knew it was his fault. Not only did Harry's monumental mistake kill his godfather, but his friends nearly all lost their lives as well.

Everything good in his life was nearly completely destroyed thanks to him. Thus he stood on the edge, looking down at an end to his suffering. A single thought slowly gaining traction: Just one step, and it will all be over.

-o-o-

Earlier that day

To say Harry woke up that morning would imply that he managed to sleep at all. No, he didn't wake up.

He merely got out of bed. Slowly he dressed himself in the castoffs from his overweight cousin.

His eyes were puffy and red, and there were clear lines down his cheeks showing where the tears had fallen. He didn't really care enough to even bother washing his face.

Conditioned to do so, he trudged downstairs to prepare breakfast for the Dursleys. He made sure each person was given their meal as soon as they sat down.

Once everyone else was eating, he started on the dishes. He would eat whatever was leftover, if anything was leftover. His uncle took perverse pleasure in limiting the amount of food Harry actually was allowed.

As he idly dried the large frying pan, he noticed the shimmer of a disillusionment charm in the bushes outside. Narrowing his eyes in anger, Harry noted exactly where the witch or wizard was hiding.

"I'm going to start on the yard work now." Harry said in a subdued tone. "When I come back in, I'll take care of your dishes."

A grunt from his uncle was the only acknowledgment he received.

After stepping outside, he made a show of heading toward his aunt's prized roses. When he passed where he'd seen the shimmer, his wand leaped into his hand, and he cast a spell precisely where he knew someone was hiding.

"Petrificus Totalus." He intoned, quiet enough that the Dursleys or any nosy neighbors wouldn't hear.

Hearing the satisfying thud of his target hitting the ground, Harry moved quickly. He knew he'd probably wind up in court again over using magic while underage, but he didn't care.

He wasn't going to be taking anymore risks, and he wouldn't be pulling punches either. For all he knew, the hiding wizard was a Death Eater who somehow bypassed the wards. He ended the disillusionment charm, and bit his tongue to hold back his cry of outrage.

Magically paralyzed on the ground before him, was Mundungus Fletcher. It was the same person who was supposed to have been guarding him when he'd nearly lost his soul to dementors the year before.

A petty criminal, Mundungus couldn't be trusted to guard a pile of rubbish. Here he was watching over Harry again, even after nearly costing him his soul last summer.

In an instant, Harry made his decision. He leaned close, and whispered in Fletcher's ear. "Tell Dumbledore that I'm done. Between having Death Eaters teach me, and petty thieves guarding me, I don't believe he cares about me at all. I'm leaving."

Knowing he didn't have much time, Harry ran back into the house. Ignoring his relatives, Harry sped up the stairs, and into his room.

He quickly freed Hedwig from her cage, and told her to fly to Hermione or Ron. Understanding his owl's questioning look, he elaborated.

"Please girl, I have to go now. Stay with whichever one you want, I'll come for you when I can." Once Hedwig took flight, Harry grabbed his father's cloak of invisibility, his Firebolt, and his money pouch, then ran back downstairs.

For one glorious instant, he entertained the thought of hexing the Dursleys, but he didn't have the time. Instead, he dodged past his uncle and cousin, and ignored the screeching from his aunt.

Barreling out the front door, Harry held out his wand to summon the knight bus.

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