Summary: When Harry believes that he is expelled from Hogwarts he plans to flee his relatives' house before the ministry people reach him and snap his wand. Meanwhile, Uncle Vernon have had enough and he is about to make sure that his nephew's Freakishness can no longer affect his 'normal' family.

Warning: Mention of child abuse and violence- obviously! Seeing as we have Voldemort and the Death Eaters heavily featured.

Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling, therefore: I don't own Harry Potter. I write for fun, and I am not making any profit out of it.

Consequences of a Delay

Prologue

As Harry Potter (a scrawny little boy of fifteen) lay on the floor of his dark bedroom in number 4 Privet Drive dying, he couldn't help thinking that this is not how he imagined his life to end. At least not after how the previous school year ended. He always imagined that he would go down on the hand of the darkest wizard of all times, Lord Voldemort. Voldemort had, after all, killed his parent fourteen years ago. He also tried to kill Harry that fateful night in Godric's Hollow, but he failed miserably and ended up as nothing more than a shadow. Not that it stopped the evil Lord. Voldemort tried to kill Harry two more times before he regained his body last June and tried once more. And after all of this, ironically, Harry laid here, broken and dying, in the muggle world and at the hands of his muggle uncle no less.

It all started a couple of hours ago -he really can't tell how much time passed since then but it felt like forever- when Dudley and his gang cornered Harry on his way back home and starter to taunt him. He wasn't really in the mood for their antics, as a matter of fact, he was in a really fool mood because of the lack of information from his friend that he taunted them back. He mocked how they only pick on younger kids and how they usually relay on their number while bullying said kids. One thing let to another and he snapped and pulled his wand out. He wasn't really going to use it, of course, he just wanted to see the panicked look on his cousin face, and he did. What he didn't count on was the abrupt change of the weather and the sudden coldness that didn't belong to the early days of August. This feeling of coldness and despair can only mean one thing, dementors.

Harry doesn't really know what happened next or when did he lose sight of Dudley's gang, but he did. On minute he was surrounded by them and the next he was running along side his cousin in the direction of number 4, Privet Drive. Then they appeared, out of the shadows, two of them. Chancing a glance in his cousin direction, Harry felt his stomach drop. Dudley can't see them, it was apparent that he was affected by their presence but he didn't yelp, jump or scream when they appeared which meant he can't see them.

How was his cousin going to fight –or better yet, flight from- something that he can't see? Harry halted and grabbed his cousin's arm, yanking him to a stop as well. "Stop!" he added for good measure. It wouldn't do to let Dudley run straight into the awaiting arms of the dementors. Raising his wand arm with his wand still in hand he heard his cousin's squeak of fear but paid him no attention.

He can't use magic but he had no option here. That moment of hesitation cost him, for in a simple fluid motion one of the dementors glided toward him and reached out with a rotten, skeletal like hand and grabbed his throat. His cousin's arm slipped from his grasp as the dementor pushed him away. He collided, hard, against a solid surface. With the haze of the moment and under the dreaded effect of the foul creatures, he couldn't tell if it was the wall or the floor, for all he knows it might be the ceiling, but he did know that his feet were no longer touching the ground.

When his mother's familiar scream filled his ears, he finally snapped out of it and brought his wand upward toward the rotten creature. Ron… Hermione… Sirius… ANYONE. Grabbing in the darkness that filled his brain for a thought, a feeling, anything that resembled happiness, Harry finally spoke out the incantation. A mist came out of his wand and pushed the dementor away. It was nothing like the majestic corporeal stag that he could usually conjure but it was enough to free him from the dementor's grasp and he fall to the floor in a heap -so he was held against the wall after all. Sensing the dementor re-approaching Harry panicked and started to fumble for a memory happy enough to create a strong patronus. Hogwarts… Quidditch… Flying… Ron… Hermione… Sirius… Desperate, Harry companied all of the previous thought and pictured them all together then pushed them all out of his wand and shouted "Expecto Patronum".

Finally, prongs jumped out of the end of his wand and charged the dementor full force. When the decaying creature fled and Harry was sure that it won't be coming back, he started to look around. He found Dudley laying on the floor a couple of feet to his left with the other dementor on top of him. Bully or not, Dudley was still his relative, plus no one deserved the fate that lay ahead of Dudley if the dementor preformed the kiss on him. Turning his wand toward them, Harry watched as prongs chased the other dementor away.

Half an hour after the ordeal, Harry was finally in the kitchen of number four, Privet Drive. His head felt like it might explode. Everything was upside down. Hogwarts and the magical world collided with the muggle suburb of number 4, Privet Drive, Surrey.

Dementors in Surrey! Ms. Figg, his patty, old, 'muggle', cat lover babysitter with her cabbage smelling house knows Dumbledore! And she appears to be more informed about the current situation of the wizarding world than he is. His aunt, his freaking 'NORMAL' aunt of all people, is talking about Azkaban and Dementors! But the last straw was the arrival of the letter that he is currently holding.

Harry was expelled from Hogwarts, the ministry people will be here shortly to snap his wand, all was lost. His uncle was positively gleeful, mumbling something about justice being served. But now that Dudley started to throw up again, his uncle went back to his furious self. Not that Harry was paying him any attention.

Still stuck in his own head and thinking about his expulsion, Harry reached one conclusion, he has to run away. Hogwarts student or not, Voldemort will come after him eventually and when he comes Harry won't be waiting for him wandless and defenseless.

With the letter still in hand, Harry left the kitchen. A small part at the back of his head registered that his uncle was still yelling furiously at him, but it also noticed that his uncle was preoccupied with the still retching Dudley. Harry reached the cupboard under the stairs and reached into his pocket to pull out his wand. Looking at it for half a second, his mind pointed out that he can't get in anymore troubles than he is already in. Plus, he was scheduling a life on the run, he was already an outlaw. After a quick "Alocomora" followed by a "Reducio", his newly shrunken trunk was safely tucked in his pocket.

He harried up the stairs, entered his bedroom and started to look around until his eyes found the object in question under his desk. He reached out and grabbed Dudley's old rucksack -he was allowed to use it back when he was in muggle School- and cast an undetectable extension charm on it then throw it on the bed along with his expulsion letter.

He unlocked Hedwig cage with another spell then allowed her to jump on his extended arm before he took her to the window. "Hedwig, you have to go stay with Ron or Hermione for a bit, alright?" her answer was a hoot of protest. "I know girl, and I want to take you with me too, but I can't, not right now at least." He told her gently but still urgently. The owl gave him a long look then nipped slightly at his fingers before she jumped from his arm and took flight. Harry watched her for a moment as she disappeared into the nigh sky then he harried back to the bed and grabbed the rucksack.

He had just finished shoving the few articles of clothes that he owned into the rucksack when the door burst open. Uncle Vernon stood in the doorway fuming, his face was red with anger and it wouldn't be a stretch if Harry said that he could see fumes coming out of his ears. The vein in his forehead was throbbing dangerously and he was shaking all over.

"What do you think you are doing?" Uncle Vernon bellowed.

"Leaving." Harry replied calmly even if he felt anything but calm.

He lowered himself to the floor and reached out for the loose floorboard under the bed. It didn't matter anymore; he was leaving here for good, so he wasn't worried about his relative finding out about his hiding spot. But before he could reach his target, Harry felt his uncle beefy hand clutch his ankles and pull him away from under the bed.

Shocked, Harry turned to look at his uncle only to have a fist colliding with the side of his face. His uncle punched him! Dizzy and blinking Harry stared at his uncle. It's been years since any of his respectable relatives lay a hand on him, not since he started Hogwarts. Even then, it was the occasional slap, pull of the hair or shove in the direction of the 'unsatisfactory' finished chore.

He never received a full fisted strong punch to the face and never purely out of rage. But his uncle was not finished, with a well aimed kick to his wand arm, his uncle send his wand flying. A clunk signaled the wand's contact with the far wall of the room, right under the bed. Then his uncle started talking, his voice was low but it was dangerous and angry.

"I have had it with you boy!" Uncle Vernon hissed "you and your non-sense." He finished the sentence with another kick, this time it landed in Harry's unexpected stomach and knocked the breath out of him.

Curling on himself, Harry tried to crawl toward the bed; he needed to reach his wand. But his uncle was still talking and he was definitely not done with Harry.

"Do you honestly think that I'll let you run away like this?" his uncle hissed with spits flying out of his mouth "just like you did two years ago." Harry could feel his uncle's foot pressing on his left leg while he talked.

The pressure on his leg halted his progress toward his wand and his uncle was still ranting "huh, you are dreaming boy." He howled madly "You will run and then those FREAKS will come and prop and poke into my son like they did with Marge. And in ten months you will be dumped on us again as if nothing happened."

Harry could feel the pressure on his leg increasing with every word and then he heard a loud and sickening crack before pain shoot like fire in his affronted leg. Seeing the gleam of satisfaction in his uncle's mad eyes, Harry tried again to crawl out of reach but the large man took hold of Harry's unhurt leg and pulled him back within reach.

Letting go of the leg, his uncle tried to punch him in the face again but Harry put his arms up and blocked the punch, which increased uncle Vernon's rage and made him grab Harry's right arm and twist it behind his back. Crying out in pain, Harry tried to wrestle his arm free but failed, and with another crack Harry's arm laid useless but painful on the floor. He hugged his arm to his chest and tried to shield it from any further damage.

"You are not just a freak; you are a pathetic piece of trash." His uncle taunted "look at you."

Then Harry lost count of the number of kicks that he received. Most of them landed on his back, as he tried to shield his broken arm and his already bruised stomach, still his uncle managed to aim a few there along with two or maybe three kicks to his chest. One thing was for sure, every single kick managed to jolt his two broken bones and he was drowning in agony.

He was pretty sure that his body was black and blue with bruises by now. Even his face, wither because he kept bumping it on the floor and the adjacent furniture in his futile attempts to escape or because of the few kicks and punches that his uncle managed to aim to his face, he wasn't sure.

Finally, his uncle was reaching the end of his rant "This won't go on boy! Do you hear me?" his uncle wheezed out of breath "No. More. Boy." His uncle finished with three well aimed kicks to his spine. Then the door slammed shut and Harry could hear the multiple locks on his door echoing through the sudden silence.

And that is how Harry found himself laying on the floor of his bedroom with the underside of his bed as his only view.

It was pitiful, at least form the raven haired boy point of view, that the last thing that he will ever see is the dusty floor under his bed. Battled, bruised and with only god know how many broken bones as he was, Harry couldn't lift a finger, let alone his head, to search for a better view. But as he swept his eyes over his limited view of the space under the bed, Harry could see the slightly raised edge of the loose floorboard where he kept his most treasured possessions.

Figuring that it was a better option, Harry kept his gaze on it instead. At least he will die looking at the things that linked him to the wizarding world, true he can't actually see them, but he knew that just below this piece of wood lay things that vary from magical leaping chocolate frogs to his father's old invisibility cloak.

Still staring in the direction of the loose floorboard, Harry closed his eyes and visualized reaching out under the bed and praying the loose board open. In his mind eye, he could imagine the content just like he last saw it. In the bottom most would be his photo album, then his school books and quills stacked on top of the album neatly, there won't be any parchment in sight because he is always careful to keep those in the books so they won't wrinkle. On top of the books he can find a couple of chocolate frogs and an unopened box of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans and some toffees. Covering all of this is his father's invisibility cloak.

Harry could imagine reaching in and grabbing the cloak and then hugging it closer to himself for a moment as if he can absorb some form of comfort out of it. Suddenly, death was not scary anymore, and dying on the hand of his muggle uncle in the middle of the wizarding war was not so ironic. At least in death he would see his parents.

Mentally, still holding the cloak, Harry was preparing to step under it and disappear from existence. Knowing that, physically, he will soon draw his last shuddering breath and also disappear from existence. He felt so calm and at peace, because he knew that when he finally step out from under the cloak, figuratively speaking, he will be greeted by the cloak's previous owner, and nothing would matter anymore because he will be with his parents. He will be safe.

A/N: I know that it is short and might seem a little repetitive, but it is not, I promise!

Leave me a review (pretty please *pats eyelashes*) constructive criticism is highly acceptable and encouraged. =)