Summary: Harry thinks about the past, when he was only 13 years old, when his uncle almost killed not just him, but Hermione and Ron as well.

Rating: T for child abuse.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters from the books.

Note: This is not just a poem; there is a piece on Harry's thoughts at the end. Which will also explain exactly what happened that night.

2nd Note: This is an ORIGINAL poem, I wrote it myself…so let me know if it's good!

Nightmare

I scream at him.

I tell him to stop.

I swear if he doesn't, I'll call the cops.

He turns from Ron and glares at me.

He yell's that I wouldn't.

That he'd kill me.

I stand my ground,

My chin held up high.

I'm thirteen years old,

And no longer afraid,

Of the things that this man,

My only uncle, has to say.

I'll take the beatings.

Every last one.

So long as he doesn't hurt Mione' or Ron.

Hit me and be done.

And that's what he does.

He screams at me.

Kicks and punches...

Breaks my nose.

Slams me against the wall.

God it hurts.

He hits me some more.

I can see Mione, She's standing by the door.

She's crying, I can see.

She begging him to stop.

She's pleading for me.

He drops me to the hardwood floor.

And heads for the door.

He grabs Mione, by the ear.

Drags her to the kitchen.

But I can still hear,

Flesh on flesh

Bone on bone

Terrified screams and cries.

Silence...

Then the slamming of a door.

I crawl over to Ron, he's scared.

I can tell

He is white and shaking

Looks like a cracked shell

I whisper his name.

"Don't worry," I say, "This is all just a game."

Darkness closes around the edge of my brain.

I can hear 'Mione screaming my name.

All I feel is pain, as I collapse to the floor.

The word as I know it is no more.

I gasp and awake,

In a cold sweat.

I'm no longer thirteen.

I'm twenty-four today.

It's been eleven years, since that fateful day.

I hate the dark,

It's something I fear.

I have this nightmare,

Every year.

It's been nine years, nine years since I received the beating of my life…since I was left in a dark cupboard to rot. Uncle Vernon had always hit me, ever since I was left at his doorstep. After I completed my second year at Hogwarts, my friends new that something was seriously amiss.

Both Ron and Hermione sneaked away from the Burrow…to find out what was going on…to rescue me. When they arrived my uncle was already extremely drunk, he had lost his job, and Aunt Petunia had taken Dudley and left, he was taking it all out on me.

When he saw Ron and Hermione, he went completely ballistic, grabbed them and stripped them of their wands. After he had thrown them into the fire, where mine already was, he proceeded to beat Ron to a bloody pulp.

Ron had never felt this type of act nor even witnessed one…he was too shocked to fight back.

When I had realized what was happening, I didn't care what happened to me anymore, I was simply not going to let my two best friends get hurt. So Vernon went after me, immediately breaking my leg.

Hermione screamed for him to let me go, possibly saving me from death. He dragged her out of the room and beat on her, I always had the fear that my uncle had done the most foulest of all deeds, but it seems that she was spared. Ron's dad, Arthur, had hoped against hope that he would find his missing son and Hermione here, believing that they wanted to do what Fred and George had done last year.

That is, flying a car to my bedroom window and whisking me away to the Burrow.

Mr. Weasley apparated into my kitchen, as soon as my uncle saw him, he took off running. It didn't take long before he was caught. He was handed over to the muggle police and is spending 30 years in jail.

I was brought to St. Mungo's, and was treated there for almost a month, mostly to treat my malnourished body. I was well enough just in time to return to Hogwarts, with a new wand. Much to my anger, I was sent to live with Aunt Petunia, because of the blood protection thing. It turned out to be not so bad, she mostly ignored me, and Hermione, to my great delight, lived not a block down the road.

I'll never forget that day, no matter how old I get. It was probably the worst thing that ever happened to me, well…maybe tying with the final battle.

I always dream about that night, but so does Hermione and Ron. It brought us all so much closer together, and made the final battle much less stressful, if we could survive the wrath of my drunken uncle, we could survive anything.

Finis…

(o7/1o/o5)

That poem is original…I wrote it in ninth grade and just decided that I could incorporate it into this…figured that it was slightly plausible. Well what do you think…of the poem and the overall story? I would greatly appreciate knowing.

Ashley