Harry's Silver Lining

By: AvidBookReader2001

Rating: T for Language and Abuse. Don't read if you can't handle it.

Warning: Physical and Emotional Abuse Present. Underage Drinking and Smoking Present. Substance Use Present. Self-Harm Present.

I do not own Harry Potter.

My head was pounding and I could feel my magic flowing to the surface but I had no choice but to push it back down. I balled my hands into fists and forced myself to ignore him. After all, I managed to ignore everyone all of my life. Even though I didn't know it yet, I was the Boy Who Lived but I hadn't actually lived a day in my life. It was time to change that.

"You little twit! Look at me when I speak to you!"

I carefully looked up into Uncle Vernon's eyes and saw ice cold blue eyes filled with hatred. How a man could possibly hate a boy so much was beyond my understanding. I was only 16 years old but I had years of neglect and abuse printed onto me. Memories of beatings, starvation, untreated illnesses, and hatred wrapped around my heart like a chain and held me prisoner. I was a slave to these memories and as a result my feelings and mind were closed off to anyone and everyone.

"You're just like your worthless father, too arrogant to pay attention, and look what happened to that drunk prat!"

I was starting to come undone. I tolerated insults directed at me but I crossed the line at my parents. I clenched and unclenched my jaw at an effort to stay in control. I managed to close my eyes in time for the blow. His fist connected with my nose and I felt the resounding crack, as blood started to gush. I didn't have time to prepare for the punch in my stomach as I doubled over and gave him the opportunity to kick my ribs. I fell down as one or two of my ribs cracked and I was overcome with pain.

"You cry like a baby. It reminds me of your daft mother!"

My eyes flew open as adrenaline took control of me and my heart started to beat faster and faster. I stood up, ignoring the tremendous pain, and with my towering height I looked down at Vernon with as much hate and defiance I could muster.

"You will not speak of my mother like that, you fat tosser!"

Unfortunately, with those words of defiance came an equal punishment. I flew onto the floor when his backhand slapped my face in unusual strength. He grabbed my hand and flipped me over to my back and lifted my shirt up. I heard his belt slide off like a hissing snake and pounce onto my back. He was unforgiving this time. The cracks bounced off of each other, giving no time in between. It lasted more than an hour as I felt the blood drip and pool on the floor. I was starting to lose consciousness when he finally stopped. I was thrown into the cupboard with my bare and stricken back.

I told myself to stay awake, to fight the deafening darkness that threatened to consume me. I barely kept my eyes open enough to hear him march upstairs and fall asleep with the others. I knew then what I would need to do.

I took a lot of time to finally admit what I had to do, but it was vital. I pushed myself up and threw one of the overly large shirts on and another, both to mask the stains of blood and to keep me warm from the betraying cold in Great Britain. I carefully slipped on some very tight work boots that I was given and took my small pack of personal belongings. I had very little, only some socks, a small wad of cash that I kept from my job as a factory worker, a pack of cigarettes (they make living hell bearable), a picture of my parents, and a letter.

I had kept the letter secret ever since I received it two days ago. I still could not believe that a school of wizards… a school of magic, could want me as a student. Well, it was more of a university than a school and I was still too young to attend. I had to wait two more years for this chance of a lifetime. I had thought that I could spend the last two years with the Dursley's and then head off to the school but I knew that I couldn't control myself with them any longer so a life on the streets would have to do.

I carefully pushed open the door of the cupboard as to not wake anyone and left the small house that has caused me so much pain, both emotional and physical.

I wandered the dark and empty streets until I crossed over to the dangerous side of town, where it was buzzing with life. As I felt the blood drip down under my shirt, I knew that I would have a very vulnerable appearance so I went inside a small pub, hoping to use to bathroom.

I nodded to the bartender in show of peace and entered the small space. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I was built pretty nicely, as 6 feet 6 inches filled the small room easily and my recently achieved muscles fit the tall body. My hair, black as night, framed my face and stuck up in all directions, no matter how much I combed it, it was wild and unruly but it suited me. My sideburns and stubble covered my face and my jaw stuck out. Lastly, I had electric green eyes which shocked every person I had come into contact with, because of its unusual hugh.

I looked down and saw my tattered grey shirt which was barely covering the blue one I wore underneath and yet they both went down until my elbows. I could see the sides and back of my shirt already stained with blood and my face, hands, and visible parts of my body covered in bruises and scratches. My jeans were small on me with holes but it didn't bother me.

I quickly took off my shirt and placed it in the sink to wash. I managed to get most of the blood off of me using wet paper towels but had to bite my hand to keep from screaming from the pain. I covered my back with paper towels and put my wet shirts back on. I washed my face with the water and came out.

The pain was getting unbearable so I decided to buy a drink to numb it as much as I could. I knew that I was underage but over the years I managed to smuggle a few drinks to help me with the pain, and the cigarettes didn't hurt, when I could buy them.

I sat down at the very end of the bar and signaled for the bartender to come.

"Yes, sir?"

He raised his eyebrows and I knew he was having trouble believing I had enough money.

"I'll have two shots of vodka, please."

I took my wad of pounds out to show that I meant business and he quickly scurried off to bring the drink. I used this time to light a cigarette and look around. They were the usual people that I would expect at this part of town, but someone caught my eye.

On the complete opposite side of the bar, there was this man sitting, with black hair similar to my own, coming over to his chin. His thick eyebrows were furrowed in anxiety and he was biting his lips. His eyes were black as onyx and he looked to be about in his late twenties or early thirties.

His clothes were unusual to say the least. He was wearing robes, black again, and they covered his normal clothes. I could not take my eyes off of him, even when his eyes came up and looked into mine. It seemed like forever that I stared into the black holes that were his eyes, as they seemed to suck me in. Eventually, the bartender came with my drinks and I was forced to look away.

I downed the shots and paid him the appropriate amount and stood up to leave. On my way out, a woman and man appeared. The woman was wearing a highly revealing blue dress and had unkempt hair with overly excessive makeup. The man, however, looked dangerous and was wearing black clothes. He was the only one speaking.

"Hey, boy. The name's Garrett. You seem like a handsome bloke. Care to spend the night with this pretty lady?"

He motioned over to the woman and was eying my pack. I nicely yet hurriedly responded, eager of getting away.

"No, thank you. I have somewhere to be."

I looked down and tried to get out of the pub when I felt someone grab my pack. I turned around and saw Garrett leave with my only belongings. I quickly chased him into an alley when he stopped abruptly and turned around.

"My, my. What a sharp fellow."

I reached for my stuff when I felt him reach his hand back and collide it with my throat. I gasped for air as one hand covered my throat and the other I used to hold him in place. I released my hand and punched him hard on his jaw. He shook it off and punched me in my stomach and again in my ribs. He figured out my weakness as I fell on the floor and he repeatedly kicked my already hurt and bleeding back. I was teetering on the verge of passing out when the kicking stopped and I saw the man from the pub standing above me. My vision lost focus as I succumbed to the darkness.