Warnings : Rating for a reason. This fic will contain abuse, dark!harry, suicidal tendencies, chara. death, (some) gryff. bashing, m/m & m/f, language, BDSM, and smut. You've been warned.
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Full Summary : After a particularly extreme beating from Vernon, Harry loses his memory and wanders aimlessly throughout the streets England. Who should find him but a Slytherin? No one really knows his whereabouts, and the wizarding world goes into an uproar. After gaining some new 'darker' wizard friends, Harry gains a new set of memories... and a new view of the world. He eventually returns to Hogwarts an entirely different person. Will a certain silver-eyed blond be able to help him ever revive his memory... and does he even want to?
Disclaimer : Yes, of course I'm richer than the Queen! I just love to spend my free time writing things like this, just for the hell of it. (rolls eyes) I wish, haha.
Note : The chapter titles and fic title all are in reference to a Linkin Park song, called Runaway. Therefore, not all the chapter titles refer to what the chapter is directly speaking about...
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Chapter the First : Graffiti Decorations, Under a Sky of Dust
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Thus far, Harry Potter's summer had been a literal Hell on Earth.
"Damn it, boy! GET DOWN HERE NOW!" Vernon's voice rumbled from the base of the stairs. Harry didn't respond verbally, opting instead to hop up as quickly as possible and tearing down the stairs.
After the threats of his friends towards the Dursley family, they had become afraid of him. That short time in itself had been bliss like that of which he had never known. He was still worked, of course. After all, he deserved it. But not as much, for a little while at least.
He had been told that he deserved it ever since he learned how to speak. He was a freak of nature, unfit to live with this family. It was only out of the kindness of their hearts that they had kept him alive at all, so he had been told again and again...
When he first found out who he really was... when he had first found out that he was a wizard, the smallest glimmer of hope had begun to bloom and flower in his mind. He was the one who had been able to bring down Voldemort, on more than one occasion. That had to amount to something, didn't it?
But the Dursleys had taught him that that wasn't the case. Sure, he had tried to cling to that sliver of belief in himself, it was human nature to at least try to support oneself, after all. But when the Dursleys discovered he wasn't permitted to use magic outside of school, they quickly proved to him how un-needed he was. He was constantly worked, and rarely fed. And no matter how hard he tried, or how long he worked, he found that he never did anything well enough. His uncle Vernon always enunciated his reminders of that fact with his blows, of course. It was most likely only his magic that had kept him from appearing thin and frail. It was also most likely all that was really keeping him alive anymore...
He was worthless. He knew that for a fact. He was hit again and again, always being told of his uselessness. For years, and then summer times afterwards, he was constantly punished and yelled at reminded of his complete and utter lack of value. And unfortunately, his 'friends' hadn't helped discourage that fact.
For months, he had desperately tried to write to them in hopes of appealing to their kindness. He had written frequently, trying to get someone, anyone, to come and take him away, to get him away from his so called family. He even wrote to Dumbledore, hoping that maybe this great wizard would be able to find some kind of purpose for someone so useless as him, some kind of reason to get away from here. And they all wrote back, sure.
But no one helped him.
His friends all told him he must have been exadurating, or that since Dumbledore kept him there it couldn't be as bad as he was describing it to be. Even Dumbledore wrote him, offering a simple excuse that he needed to stay there so that he could be protected from Voldemort. Hell, at this point he would most likely throw himself to Voldemort in plea to kill him rather than stay here if he could. This, this manner of living was protection? Being beaten within an inch of his life?
He knew he was useless. But he also was dimly aware that there had to be some better way of doing things than what was happening now. They could find something that he could be useful for. They could teach him to be good at something helpful. But they didn't seem to want to give him the chance to be useful, as that was never the case.
It was NEVER the case.
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Snapping out of his musings as he reached the stairs, Harry dipped his head downwards respectfully and avoided his uncle's gaze as he had been taught to. He could remember all too well what had happened when Vernon thought that he had sent a 'threatening' glare towards him... all too well indeed.
"Clean Dudley's room for him, NOW! And complete his homework for him, too. He's much to busy for something like that right now. And if he gets even ONE answer wrong..." Vernon trailed off with a threatening glare, which Harry only saw because he had glanced up to look at his uncle while he spoke. Harry nodded meekly in response, and kept his head low. Vernon glared down at him.
"Well! WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, YOU FREAK? GO! WORK! NOW!" Vernon yelled at Harry, slightly purple in the face. Vernon raised a thick hand and backhanded Harry towards the stairs, watching in satisfaction when Harry crashed backwards with a resounding 'thud'. Vernon then turned, and thundered into the kitchen.
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Already feeling bruises beginning to form on many places on his body, he carefully rubbed his neck, between his shoulder blades, the backs of his thighs, and his ankles into a working state. Harry then paused, took a deep breath, and then limped slightly as best he could back up the stairs again.
Walking into his cousin's room, he purposefully left the door wide open. The last time he had left it shut, or even slightly closed... Harry shuddered. He had been stiff with a sore chest for at least a week that time. Turning back to the task at hand, Harry began to clean the horrendous mess that was labeled a 'bedroom'. Cleaning, washing, ironing, folding, vacuuming, organizing... Harry worked tirelessly for several hours. After doing the best he could, he full-out limped down the stairs again. After working for so long his already sore muscles were screaming at him to sit down and rest, or even better, to sleep away his pain. But he couldn't do that, he would just be scolded again. He should be used to the pain by now, damn it!
Bowing his head again, he looked towards Dudley.
"Where's your homework?" He mumbled slightly. Unfortunately, Dudley had gotten such horrible grades over the past school year that he had needed summer schooling. Somehow, Vernon and Petunia had managed to convince the school that he didn't need to attend the summer school, he just had to have the homework sent to him. Thus, Harry was stuck with it.
Dudley didn't even glance up from the television, opting instead to point a fat finger towards a pile of papers and textbooks that were stacked upon the kitchen counter. Harry mumbled a soft 'Thanks' in response, picked up the homework, and walked back up the stairs. His body screamed in protest, but Harry dutifully worked on it from his own room anyway. He solved everything carefully, and wrote clearly and neatly.
At approximately 3:00 in the morning of the next day, Harry put down the pencil he had been using for the math work. Resisting the urge to just let his eyelids fall, he walked slowly back downstairs and placed the completed homework neatly into Dudley's backpack, being careful to organize it how Dudley wanted it to be organized.
Thankfully Harry had only received one more beating that day, shortly after his uncle came home. Vernon had roared in a deafening volume for Harry to get into Dudley's room immediately. When Harry arrived, the first thing that Vernon did was punch him squarely in the gut.
"You - bloody - freak! How - dare - you - forget - to - replace - Dudley's - sheets - with - new - ones!" Each word was carefully emphasized with a blow to Harry's stomach. Harry knew he had replaced them, he was sure of it. He glanced up fleetingly towards Dudley's bed, and noticed that the sheets had been mussed slightly.
It was evident that Dudley had done this on purpose.
But what did that matter? Harry knew he deserved every blow. Even if he hadn't messed up with the bed, he must have made a mistake somewhere in the room. He must have, he knew it. His whole life was a screw up, so this pain was justified. He deserved every hit.
With one more last shout of some manner of insult towards Harry, Vernon picked Harry up and threw him down the stairs, Harry then landing in an unnatural position. Vernon stormed down the stairs after him, sending brief kicks to Harry's stomach to push his prone form out the doorway.
"The last thing our family needs is your NOISE waking everyone up!" Vernon growled. In a few moments, Harry was half kicked, half dragged to Dudley's school park. Why he was brought there, Harry had no clue. He didn't really stop to think much on it either, too busy trying to tune out the pain that sang through his ears.
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Harry awoke the morning later.
"Where... where am I...?" He mumbled to himself, glancing around at his surroundings. He stood up shakily, and immediately wished he hadn't. He abruptly collapsed back down again, as pain seared through what seemed like every single muscle in his body. Glancing down at himself, he could see several still slightly oozing cuts, and many, many bruises. Varying in colour(1), ranging from a sickly yellow colour to full out black. Harry stared at these all blankly. Where had these all come from? Harry then paused for a moment, leaning back to rest gingerly on the soft grass.
Then, a fleeting thought caused him to stare with wide eyes down towards himself.
"Who am I?"
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Chapter the First --- Fin
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(1) Colour is indeed spelt correctly, for those of you who might believe otherwise. I know that normally it should be spelt as 'color', but in Canada, it is spelt 'colour'. I live in Canada (eh?). Thus, I have decided to keep the spelling as 'colour'. Just for those of you who don't know.
Anyway, as I've said, please don't be too ferocious. I'm sorry that the chapter isn't unbelievably long or anything... I would just rather have chapters of this length so that I can update more quickly in the future. I've found that if I try to write long chapters, I easily get distracted and then forget about what I was writing. -.-' Oh well.
One last thing, I'll most likely wait until I get about ten reviews or so before I post the next chapter, just to see if it's worthwhile or not... So if you've enjoyed it, please take a couple of seconds to review!
Kyoko