A stone angel independent and apathetic

Third Person POV

A small dark haired boy sat curled up beside the couch on the floor, in the shadows. Every once and a while his eyes would sweep the room, looking for something. Whatever it was, the boy let out a sigh of relief when he couldn't see it. He leaned his head back and rested it against the side of the couch, and closed his eyes trying to ignore the thundering headache that pounded away in his head. 'Uncle' had been extra harsh on him that afternoon when he had noticed that all his chores weren't completed. 'Uncle' hated it when he wasn't finished all the chores he made him do, not that any human being could physically complete the chores in the allotted time his 'Uncle' gave him. He shifted his body slowly, and held in the gasp of pain. Needles shot up his legs, and his whole body felt like one big bruise. He waited, silently in the corner for two hours, waiting for his 'Uncle' to come. He didn't, and for that the boy was thankful. The silence was peaceful, silence meant there was no pain to come, 'Uncle' liked to yell. The boy slowly lost himself into his dreams; dreams of a loving uncle, dreams of when he was a good boy.

He slowly gained consciousness, when he heard the front door slam open. He could hear the soft steps of his 'Uncle' making his way through the kitchen and into the living room that the boy hid in. He held his breath and scooted back behind the couch as far as he could go. Hoping his 'Uncle' for once would forget about him.

"BOY!" His 'Uncle' slurred, he was drunk the boy could hear it in his voice. "Get out here this instant or I'll give you a reason to hide."

The boy wondered what to do, either way he was in for a beating. He decided to get it over with as soon as possible. As he stood his legs gave out and he had to clutch the couch with both hands just to keep his balance. He felt the painful tingling sensation work it's way up his leg and he winced at the feeling. He bowed his head, and made his way around the couch towards his 'Uncle.'

His dull jaded green eyes looked up through the mop of his tangled hair. Four years ago they were full of confusion. What did he do that was so wrong? Three years ago they looked hurt and filled with worry. Two year ago they were full of anxiety and anticipation. They knew what was coming. One year ago they were apathetic. No matter what he did, he would be punished. Now they were unresponsive, wrecked. His soul forever more caged. Inadvertently he had started to conceal every emotion behind immense shields that many strived for. He became detached and cold to the outside world, a stone angel independent and apathetic. He stood silently, swaying dangerously. He awaited his punishment. He deserved his punishment, why? Why not, was his only answer. He stood at attention, his feet exactly twelve inches apart. His hands clasped behind his back.

His 'Uncle' circled him, his aqua eyes taking in everything. All the angry red welts, cuts and burns that were added daily to the boy's already malnourished body. The little bulges of forced muscles that stretched his skin. His swollen jaw, and bruised face, His mess black hair, tangled from abandonment. The way he swayed from fatigue, and covered flinches. His 'Uncle's' sadistic smile spread across his face. The boy knew today was going to be bad, worse than ever before.

'Uncle' grabbed the boy by the back of the neck and dragged him towards the stairs. As they grew nearer the boy started to shake. They were almost on top of it, when 'Uncle' gave the boy a giant push. The momentum carried the stumbling boy to the stairs and over.

The boy plummeted down the flight of stairs like a wounded bird, and lay at the bottom unmoving. 'Uncle' casually made his way down, mindful of the small smears of blood on some of the stairs. At the bottom he reached down and pulled the boy up, not a whimper was sounded. The boy fumbled to get his feet under his body, and straightened his back. He tried to stand in the 'soldier stance' his uncle liked to see him in.

'Uncle' glanced down on the small bloody boy. A smile graced his face before it was wiped blank again. He let go of the boy, thrust out his chin and then turned and walked down the hallways towards the last room. The small boy followed slowly, painfully. Not a word was uttered. They entered the room and the door closed silently behind them.

Boy's POV

I could feel a stabbing pain course its way up my left leg. I knew if I put too much weight on it, it wouldn't hold me up. It was broken, nothing new. My chest hurt every time I took a breath in. I saw 'Uncle' jut out his chin and walk down the hallway, leaving me behind. Again, nothing new. I followed as quickly as I could force myself. Pain tore through my small form and fatigue made everything heavy. My head was so very heavy, I could feel my eyes drooping even as I walked. "No!" I said quietly as I shook my head, knowing that if I gave into the darkness that was creeping up on me, I would never return. Aunt Petunia gave into the darkness almost four years ago, and she never returned, I knew I would be just as lucky. That's the reason 'Uncle' is so mad at me, if only I was like him, like a true normal person should be, she would have been alive.

I was the disappointment of the family. Strange power coursed their way through my body. A child, that had powers, gifts, magic. Such a thing was unheard of, a disgrace. 'Uncle' brushed it off at first, saying it was coincidence or something, but when aunt Petunia had died on my third birthday he knew. He knew without a doubt, that I was a normal person's worst nightmare, a child with power. Everyone was normal, everyone that is except me. 'Uncle' then refused to say that I was in his family. My mother must have been a bastard child; a living proof of my grandmother's infidelity while her husband was off at war. There is no way my mother and my aunt Petunia were blood sisters.

By now I had reached the room that 'Uncle' waited inside of. I entered slowly; mindful of the pain I was in, trying to conserve energy. I heard the door close behind me. I felt panic grip my heart tightly and I saw my vision start to swim. I forced my emotions behind my wall and forced my heart to slow. I took in deep breaths, ignoring the pain it caused. The beatings were always worse if I was in a full-blown panic. Once I had myself under control I walked slowly to the center of the room were 'Uncle' expected me.

"Bastard!" 'Uncle's' voice tore threw me; I could feel his breath above and behind me. I stayed quiet; you only talk when given permission. "What should I do with you? You're a disgrace to the family. Maybe I should send you to join your unfaithful mother and father into the darkness. What do you think?" He was circling me again, his eyes never leaving me, always watching. I could smell the liquor on him every time he pasted. His circled got smaller, closer to me. He stopped inches from my nose; his eyes leering down at me. I swallowed painfully, "Permission to speak!" He barked.

I barely stopped myself from jumping with surprise and fear. I lowered my eyes, as was custom when speaking "N-nnoo ss-sir," I managed to stutter threw my disused throat. I swallowed painfully again and licked my lips.

"No, you say?" 'Uncle' mocked, "I don't know, you're worthless. What do I do with a nephew that is worthless? Hum? Permission to speak."

My mind raced to find a reason, any reason for him to love me or at least keep me. 'There is no reason for him to love you! You're a bastard, an ungrateful whelp! No one could ever love you. you're a freak that does freaky things.' A small voice mocked inside my head. "W-well ss-sir, I, I-I c-could," I paused to think "I, I c-could t-t-take c-care of t-the house f-for y-you, s-sir."

"Take care of the house, huh?" he paused looking thoughtful, I prayed to any God out there he'd keep me. "So that you can defile it? I think not." He snarled, a glint entered his eyes and I knew that he had made up him mind. I knew there was nothing I could say that would change his mind. He stepped back, watching me, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. I saw his friend enter; his friend could cause pain without touching me. I could tell that he was going to use his gift on me. I waited for the pain I knew was coming. Would it me the lighting that raced threw my bones or the feeling of knives stabbing my small form?

'Uncle' took one more step back and bang! I could concentrate on nothing but the pain. I force myself to stay standing and silent as long as possible. I gritted my teeth; maybe if I were strong he would change his mind. He sometime did. I was able to stay standing for five full minutes, five agonizing minutes before my muscles gave up. I fell into a heap on the floor. I felt the pain recede, my body slightly twitching upon the floor. I was given a few seconds to compose myself, like always, before the pain returned twice-fold.

I was able to stay in control for another five minutes, before I lost the little control I had. My body thrashed upon the floor. I could feel blood leaking out of my mouth and nose; some had entered my lungs causing me to hack painfully. It took all of my strength to not cry out. I looked threw my unfocused eyes and saw 'Uncle' looking down at me full of remorse. His friend had a sadistic smile on his face. I wanted to yell; stop! I give, Kill me now. But if I was anything I was stubborn.

It felt like eternity that I was under the pain; I could no longer focus on anything. My brain said that it was only fifteen minutes, that I fought the pain and darkness. I heard voices far away yelling; a pop and then the pain disappeared. Just like that, without warning. The darkness swam closer to me; I was using what ever strength I had to keep it at bay.

Mathias's POV

A boy lay on the ground, twitching uncontrollably. He was hacking, gurgling blood at the back of his throat. His nose bled freely. His small form was a sight to see; I knew it would haunt me forever. His jaded green eye: dead, staring at nothing, and unblinking. His mouth opened in a silent scream. His jaw was horribly swollen, the parts of his terribly thin face that weren't bruised were ghostly white, and he looked more tired than seemed humanly possible. There were bruises on his neck that seemed to continue onto his chest, his left wrist and leg bent unnaturally, and he appeared to have been starved practically to death. His back was littered with livid red welts, cuts, burns and scars.

I stood in shock, not knowing what to do. I had heard from the neighbors that a child lived here, that was why I was here. The neighbors had called the cops and I was sent to investigate. They said that a young boy lived here, but they hadn't seen even a glimpse of him in the last three years. The one neighbor said he had to be at least five years old and going to school. But there was no record. Now I knew why.

I watched as he thrashed on the ground, not knowing what to do. Then I snapped out of my trance and rush to the boy's side. I didn't know what was causing the pain; the uncle had only been standing over the boy looking down with remorse, there had been a large pop noise before we entered the room. I knelt down and pressed my hands gently down on the boy's shoulders hoping to hold him still until the ambulance came. I could see tears well at the corners of the boy's eyes, but they never spilled. His mouth closed, but I could still hear the gurgling of blood. I watched as his eyes close, NO, he couldn't give up. Not when help was so close. His eyes opened again, a little clearer. He blinked, and turned to face me. He blinked; it took forever for him to blink just once. His eyes narrowed as he tried to focus on me. Then they widened until I could see the blood vesicles.

He retched himself out of my hold, his body still twitching but not as bad. He glanced around like a cornered animal. A sound barely auditory left his lips when he saw his uncle, a small sigh. He dragged himself to a sitting position, ignoring my presence. I wondered if I had it wrong, maybe the uncle hadn't done this to him. The boy force himself to his knees. I watched the proceeding with morbid fascination. Not knowing what to do, unsure of where the boy was getting the strength. I watching in horror as the boy force himself to his feet, and swayed, then fell. He tried again, and again. The room watched in silence as the boy tried desperately to stand. He managed on his twentieth time. We all watched as he took one step, and then another. He shakily made his way to where my men held the uncle. He stopped just in front, widened his stance, forced his hands behind his back, jutted out his elbows, raised his chin and stood at attention in front of the man. The boy's eyes were full of hope, for what I didn't know, but they were searching the man's face.

The man sighed and looked down at the floor, "Why couldn't you have just died with you're parents? Why stay and haunt me?" the man then looked up into the dull green eyes before him. "Bastard! I've said it once; I'll say it again. You're a disgrace to this family. A worthless, whelp. Tell these men what you are. Permission to speak!" He barked out and was restrained by my men.

The boy bowed his head slightly and placed his eyes firmly on the ground before opening his mouth. "Y-yes, ss-sir." He coughed and I could see the pain on his face, before it became blank, utterly blank. "I-I'm a f-freak, t-that n-n-never sh-should ha-have b-been born. I-I is n-n-no f-family of y-urs. M-my F-father w-was a g-good f-for nutting s-son of a b-b-bitch, a-and I w-was a m-m-istake." I was appalled at the words the boy said, and I could see conviction in his eyes. He believed it. "S-ssorry ss-sir. I-I d-deserve a p-punishment." The boy stepped forward accepting his fate.

I glanced around for someone to help me, my eyes landed on my commander he stood in the doorway shocked. I looked at his pleadingly; I didn't know what to do. He snapped out of his trace and started to bark orders. The boy stayed where he stood, not for once flinching. Thomas made his way over to the boy and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. I could see the boy looking at him from the corner of his eyes. A look of fear crossed his eyes, fear of not knowing how to act or what to do. He stayed motionless, facing in the direction he had been facing. Tom's face was unreadable, he gestured for my men to take the man outside. He stepped in front of the boy.

Boy's POV

I stood motionless; I knew that this new man was in charge. I watched as my 'Uncle' was dragged from the room. I kept my face void of emotions. I watched as he stepped in front of me. I waited for the cuff, hoped for the cuff. Then I would know what was going on.

We stood there like that for several minutes, neither of us moving. Just staring at each other. I knew what was expected; I lowered my head in submission. He nodded to me, and then swept me up into his arms. I force down a flinch, I knew better. He cradled my body against his and I could feel his body heat, I forced myself to stay still. I readied for the drop that I knew was coming. There was nothing. The man turned to the other man that had been holding me down and said something, I couldn't understand. The darkness was returning. My strength was almost completely gone. My head felt heavy, heavier than ever before. My body still twitched, it felt unnerving, not being in control of my own body. Everything was numb, I could feel nothing. Again my eyes went out of focus. This time I couldn't fight the darkness.

Tom's POV

I told Mathias to arrest the man, and take him to the department. I'd wait for the ambulance; I looked down at the small battered form lying in my arms with pity. He was so small and so damaged. I was surprised he was still alive. His body still twitched in my arms, his body grew heavier, dead weight. His eyes glazed over and then rolled into his head. I knew as he took his last raspy breath that he was gone. We had failed him, a broken soul in the hands of fate; we were all much too late.

Third person POV - A week later

(An office somewhere in Scotland)

A lady rushed through the office she had stepped into and down the stairs, to the great hall. People looked in shock as the doors were thrown opened and the lady ran through the hall. All the students forgot about the lunch they were supposed to be eating in favor of watching what was going on. The lady skidded to a hault infront of the headmaster and quickly wispered something. The headmaster's smile faded and then addressed the students.

"Something has come up, and I must call for a teacher meeting. All students make there way calmly towards their common room. Prefects are in charge. Classes have been cancled for the afternoon." With that said and without farther explination he swepted out of the hall closely followed by the crazy lady, and two of the teachers. They made their way briskly back the way the lady had just rushed from. once in the office again and seated the headmaster turned to her, "Now, Arabella Figg what is so urgent that you need to talk to me?"

"well Professor Dumbledore, sir. You know how I was to be watching how the muggles treated young Harry right?" She said nervously.

"What has the spoiled brat done now?" The male teacher asked his voice dripping with venom

"Now, Severus be kind." Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eyes. the teacher in question scowled and looked away.

"The boy has done nothing, but I think you should read this Dumbledore, sir." she said as she passed him the newspaper.

He opened the newpaper and started to read aloud.

Newspaper

Last week, worried neighbors of Number 4 Privet Drive called the cops. They remembered seeing two small boys around the house before the death of Mrs. Petunia Dursley four years ago today. Since then they haven't seen hide or hair of either boys. After much investigation, the cops found Mr. Dudley Dursley living with his aunt Margery Dursley his father's sister. But there was no record of another child. After more investigation and a house search they found the young boy badly beaten and twitching on the floor as Mr. Dursley stood over him. After much questioning it is found that the young boy was a young Mr. Harold James Potter, a nephew of Mr. Dursley, whose parents had died when he was a year old. All shall mourn Harry the young boy of six, who died in the arms of police chief Thomas Laxmo. His uncle is facing charges of child abuse, first-degree murder, and neglect. The court hearing is to be set at a later date.

End

Silence graced the room, no one knew what to do. Dumbledore's face was ashen and his eyes were dead. "maybe you were right Minerva, Maybe we shouldn't have left him with them. I was mistaken, sorily mistake."

By Draghen