Agony burst through little Harry as his uncle brought the cruelly serrated knife down on the boy's arm.
"Cry, you little freak!" The whale of a man roared as he saw tears form in his nephew's emerald eyes. Oh, how he hated those beautiful sparkling eyes. The six-year-old did cry, silently, his tears rolling down his rosy cheeks. How did the monstrous child still look adorable when crying? It was a feat his own child, Dudley, couldn't even manage.
Vernon growled as he cut the quivering child again, this time right down his cheek, so his tears would sting him even as he cried.
Please, Harry begged internally, wishing desperately for a saviour.
"You'll pay for your freakishness, boy!" Vernon screamed.
Please... somebody...
"Don't thrash, brat!"
I'm all alone...
"CRY!"
All... Alone...
Harry finally blacked out, taking a strangled gasp as he saw a face flash before his eyes. The young girl looked at him sympathetically, whispering words Harry hoped he would never forget.
"You aren't alone anymore."
