Revenge is sweet if you can do it from Hell.

By Urd Molony.

Disclaimer: I own none of J K Rowlings characters, books, etc and such. I only own additional self-made characters.

Chapter 1; Dreams and pains

The dream.

It was so vivid…

It wasn't about seeing his parent's die, Sirius fall behind the veil, the constant beatings…

It was about when it first began…

It seemed like it only happened yesterday…

I don't really remember when it started…

I think it may have been when I was five…

The Dursleys were out on the front lawn of No. 4, Privet Drive. It was their Dudder's 5th birthday. Dudley Dursley's piggy, watery, dull blue eyes, where eagerly looking at all his new toys. He was trying to life his ham-like leg over the tricycle's seat; to not much avail. Dudley's eye's strayed to the lounge window where he saw his freak cousin standing there staring at him, obviously wanting to be out there as well.

"Daddddddyyyyyy. Stop the freak looking at meeeee." Dudley whined in a pathetic voice. Vernon Dursley whipped his neckless head around, grunting dangerously in the bottom of his throat. He walked back into No. 4 and stalked up to behind his nephew.

"Stop staring at them boy- it's about time you started earning the food, shelter and hospitality that we have been graciously given you since your freakish arse was dumped on our doorstep." Vernon Dursley's voice hissed into Harry's ear as he dragged Harry into kitchen. Harry collided with the white cabinets in the kitchen by his elbow, and cried out briefly.

"Start dinner. Potatoes and sausages with Dudley's favorite gravy. WELL? DON'T JUST STAND THERE BOY!" With that Vernon lumbered his straining pant-clad butt out the front door with a sickengly sweet "Duddikens, Petty!".

Harry climbed to his shaking feet, whimpering slightly at the shooting pains going down his elbow. Harry looked around the kitchen, jumping up and down to no avail to try and see over the top of the kitchen-counter. How could he cook dinner if he couldn't even reach the refrigerators handle?

Harry walked slowly over to the door and walked out to the driveway where his Aunty Petunia was sitting looking at her husband teach his son how to ride a bicycle- though to Harry it looked like he was trying to keep Dudley on the bike. He turned his head up to Petunia who, seeing he was there, glared at him in contempt and hate.

" Aunty Petunia, Uncle Vernon said to cook dinner, but I don't know how. I can't see over the top of the bench." Harry said, with his startling emerald eyes unusually large on his thin, child's face; his voice pure innocence.

"BOY!" came a thunderous roar. Vernon stomped over and picked Harry up by his hair, ignoring his yelp of pain. "I- TOLD- YOU- TO- COOK- OUR- DINNER!" Each of his words where accuented by a slap to Harry's face. Vernon threw open the cupboard under the stairs door and threw Harry in, slamming the door shut and locking it firmly. Two watery, disgusting eyes looked through the air vent at the crying, whimpering boy, who was clutching his inflamed cheeks. " You'll learn not to disobey me boy. I'll make sure of that." That said the vent was slammed down, and Harry was left screaming in his mind ' what did I do? What did I do? What?', before darkness and pain claimed him.

Harry Potter sat up in bed with a choked gasp. His emerald eyes eventually unclouded and he wearily looked around his small bedroom, which reeked of old blood and his own stinking body. It was the holidays leading to his 7th year at Hogwarts. Two days before his birthday. He had gotten only 5 letters during the entire holidays. Dumbledore only wanted his as a pawn. Even with all the cryptic messages he'd been putting in his notes that he had been forced to write by his Uncle to the Order every three days, nobody suspected The-Boy-Who-Lived was slowly dying.

Every night there were nightmares. Visions. Sirius falling behind the veil, screaming at Harry that it was his fault that it happened. His parents dying, saying they would be alive if not for him. Cedric, saying it was all Harry's fault. Voldemort, all of his meetings- torturing of innocent muggles, raping young children. 'But there all right' Harry thought emotionlessly, 'if I hadn't been alive, they wouldn't be dead. I wouldn't be Vernon's punching bag.'

Harry pushed himself off the sticky bed and hobbled over to the window. Through the bars, he could see the moon. Full. Remus would be transformed tonight.

"Too bad he can't come and bite Vernon." Harry mused wryly. He remembered easily the first day back to No. 4 Privet Drive.

Flashback

Harry stumbled into his room, clutching the invisibility coat that held his photo album, wand, Marauders Map and homework for the summer. Vernon continued to hit his nephew. Punching all across his back, wherever he could reach. Harry winced at each blow but made no pleas or sounds of pain.

" THERE WILL BE NO FREAKY THINGS FROM YOU THIS SUMMER BOY. NO BODY THREATENS ME!. I'll beat that freakiness out of you if it's the last thing I do." Vernon said, a maniacal glint in his eye and a crazy sort of smile. He walked out and slammed the door shut, multiple locks clicking close.

The sound of Harry's trunk being wheeled into the stairs cupboard was doubled with Vernon's mutterings, before Harry pulled up the loose floorboard. Harry quickly placed his things in the small space, and stood up surveying the changes to the room.

The bars where back on the window. The window itself was still open able. There was only a lamp for light in the room. But what was most disturbing was the rack on the wall. There was a three belts of varying sizes and a whip.

Harry stared at the rack, for how long he didn't know.

This summer… was not going to be good.

End Flashback.

There was a loud bang from just up the hall. 'Vernon's door'. Harry knew the sound well. He quickly hobbled to the bed and lay in it, ignoring the bruises and cuts that liberally laced him.

Vernon Dursley stormed into the room.

" I know your awake boy. WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT WAKING ME UP!"

The whooshing of air was heard just before the belt sliced into his ribs. Harry just laid there and let the pain come. This pain was meager compared to that of which he felt whenever he lost someone close to him. That was like his mind, heart, his very soul being ripped open with bare hands and ripped out.

The beating lasted ten minutes until Vernon walked out, locking the door, back to his room sweating like the pig he was, looking as crazy on the outside as he was on the inside.

Blood seeped into the already blood crusted maroon sheets. Harry's last thought before he fell unconscious was ' Will anybody come for me on my birthday? If they don't I'll go anyway. Fuck Dumbledore. He's betrayed me one too many times…'

End Chapter

AN; Well. That's the first chapter done, finally. Hey everybody, this is my first fan fiction story ever! Been reading it for over 2 years, but the first time I've written one. I was thinking of just having this as a one-shot but, hmmm…… what d' yall think?

One-shot or continuos?

Should Harry run away or be rescued?

Your suggestions in your reviews! Blessed be.

Vale- Latin for goodbye- for now!

Urd.