Hey so I was so tired of trying to find a story to read like this that I decided to write it myself! Hope you like it.

-No Slash, goodish Voldemort, smarter Harry, warning: abuse-

Well, enjoy. I'll try to update as soon as I can.

I watched Sirius fall through the veil, screaming at him to not leave me. I ran after him, about to jump in, with his face still frozen in my mind. I was almost there-

"BOY!"

I jerked awake, the images of my nightmare still fresh in my mind.

"Sirius," I murmured, shaking. "Why'd you have to die? It's my fault. I'm sorry."

I heard the loud footsteps coming up the stairs, and I quickly got out of my bed. I slipped my wand in my pocket, tense.

I had taken the abuse earlier, of course. I wouldn't risk being expelled for using magic or having any one know about the abuse. But if worse comes to worse, I may need my wand. It is really all that I have.

I waited, my heart pounding in my chest, as I watched my uncle come through the door. His face was red in anger, and I flinched back when I saw the whip in his hand. He glared at me, his beady eyes full of loathing.

He took steps towards me, and I forced myself to hold my ground and not show fear. He grinned at my sadistically.

"You're going to pay for waking me up again, freak," he spat, raising his whip.

It hit my side and I fell from the impact. He brought it up again and moments later it lashed against me. I took it silently, gritting my teeth, as it continued.

"You deserve this, Potter," he sneered. "You kill off everyone who starts to care for you. First your parents and now your good-for-nothing godfather!"

The words hit me hard, and reinforced the guilt I had been feeling. When the whip hit against me again and again I thought of my godfather.

I did deserve it.

And that was my last thought as I faded into darkness.

When I woke up it was dark again, and I was still on the floor. I could hardly believe that my aunt had let me sleep through a whole day. Maybe she felt sorry for me. My hands curled up in fists. I was so tired of pity.

I got to my feet shakily, managing to fight through the searing pain mostly on my back and sides.

I've had worse, I knew. I would live.

I walked to my bed, and sat on it lightly, trying to be careful with my wounds. I registered that my blood was all gone from the floor-most likely courtesy of my aunt. I felt a small sense of gratitude, before realizing she probably wouldn't want a freak's blood to ruin her carpet.

I narrowed my eyes, disgusted.

I heard a door slam open and then close downstairs and felt anxious. My uncle was home.

"POTTER!"

I winced as I heard my name. I'm going to get another punishment, probably for sleeping through the day. I heard his heavy footsteps up the stairs, and held my breath as he slammed my door open.

His eyes met mine, unemotional and clouded. I was surprised he was so collected, when usually his face screamed the definition furious.

"Come here," he said coldly.

I obeyed hesitantly, walking slowly to stand as few paces away.

His hand slammed against my cheek, and I barely managed to stay upright, mostly due to the fact I had been waiting for it. He grabbed my arm tightly, making me wince, and started to drag me out of my room.

"You're leaving," he said harshly.

I froze. I couldn't leave. I wouldn't have the protection. Voldemort and his Death Eaters would get to me.

"Please no, Uncle," I started to plead. "I'll be good. Please."

I never thought I would be begging my Uncle to let me stay.

He slammed me into the wall, his eyes still blank. "No. You're going. Now."

I tried to pull out of his grip, but that only caused my uncle to thrust me into the banisters of the staircase. I fell against one hard, just barely stopping myself from falling down the stairs. My uncle wouldn't have that though, and pushed me before I could avoid it.

I began to plunge down the staircase, rolling over myself, until I reached the bottom and tried to stop my fall, which resulted in my left wrist snapping. I grabbed my broken wrist, hissing in pain, and staggered to my feet. I quickly grabbed my trunk from under the cupboard, and took my wand out to point at my uncle.

"I'm leaving," I snarled at him, trying to move my trunk and point my wand at him with a hurt left wrist. Giving up, I decided to shrink the suitcase. I decided it was better to just start using magic now because I was no doubt going to need it.

I put my trunk in my pocket, and pointed my wand at him threateningly.

"Leave," my uncle ordered darkly, his eyes shadowed.

I gave him one last glare, before slamming open the door and running out of my place of protection. I tried to ignore my sense of paranoia, but I couldn't stop my constant flinched at noise and alertness. I scanned the area, trying to find a threat.

I was about to lift my wand to call the night bus, when my scar burned horribly. I lifted my left hand to it instinctively, forgetting it was even broken, when I was overcome with the pain of my scar. I collapsed to the ground, panting, as I fought the scream. The last thing I saw before I lost consciousness was very distinct red eyes.

Please review! Thanks! :)