Green eyes stared blankly ahead, noting, but not reacting to, the irregular
patter of scratches marking the walls. Harry Potter was sitting in the
smallest bedroom at number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. The
young wizard's face held no emotion as he pondered his existence.
Is it worth living, he wondered, the thought not posed as a question, but more as a random bit of thought that crossed his mind, only to vanish again. Two weeks at the Dursley's had forced him to bottle up his emotions. With no outlet, his thoughts had taken up a pattern of loss and death – his family, Sirius, Cedric, Remus, in a sense, Cho, in another – and in response he has fallen into a depression so deep and utterly absolute that it scared the Dursley's.
It had started almost as soon as he had gotten home, such as it was (who, after all, would call this house a home?). A few sharp comments had sent Harry to his room to unpack and 'stay there until he was needed'.
When he had finished unpacking he had crept over to the door to listen to what was going on. There seemed to be some sort argument going on between Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Their voices rose in a remarkably stereotypical crescendo until there was a slightly muffled slapping sound and utter silence.
Harry's eyes widened as he realized one of his guardians had slapped the other. He fiercely hoped it had nothing to do with him. He didn't want to deal with this crap right after the death of—no, he wouldn't think of it.
The loud thumping sound of something large coming up the stairs alerted Harry to the fact that he was in a very sneaky position. He quickly busied himself with organising the things in his room. He tried not to jump as the door to his room slammed open.
"Listen boy," Uncle Vernon snarled, his red face all purple-splotched and looking slightly mad. "I didn't want to take you back at all these holidays, so I'll tell you this now. You shall do whatever we say, whenever we say. You shall not speak in our presence. You shall not complain in any way. You seem to have forgotten these little rules of ours after you've been to that freak school." Spit flew from the angry man's mouth as he stressed the word 'freak'.
Harry looked at his 'uncle' blankly. "Fine," he muttered. His turned away from his uncle, not really caring at the moment. A sharp rap on the back of his head made him turn around and stare at his uncle with blank eyes.
His uncle stared back.
"Make sure you remember," he muttered before leaving. Harry flopped on his bed and fell promptly asleep.
After this incident, he had a week full of vicious remarks, chores, and unrelenting labour. He did it all blankly, not really caring about anything. His apathy was scaring them, he knew, but again, he didn't really care.
The all time low had came in the middle of his second week with the Dursley's, after he had a dream about Sirius falling into the veil all over again, only this time he was bound to a wall, and masked Death Eaters stood around pointing and laughing as Sirius fell through the veil again and again.
He had not wanted to get up the next day, and didn't respond to the several shouted commands to 'get down here now!' He had only sighed and turned over when he heard feet thumping up the stairs. When his door slammed open, he shut his eyes and curled under the blankets further.
"BOY!" Vernon bellowed, "what do you think you're doing?!" No response from Harry. The beefy man ripped the bedding off the bed. Harry continued to stare sightlessly towards the wall he was facing. "HOW DARE YOU IGNORE ME?!" Harry's uncle was nearly choking on his rage, but there was still no reaction. Vernon ripped off his belt. "I'm warning you boy, pay attention to me now!" When nothing happened, Vernon grinned cruelly, and raised his belt above Harry's back. "You need to be taught some discipline." Swishing the belt down, Vernon waited with smug satisfaction for the delightful smacking sound and Harry's howl of pain. He had done this a few times before, and he enjoyed it. However, the sounds never came. The belt had vanished in mid swing.
"What did you do?" Vernon growled deep in his throat. "You're not allowed to use magic outside of that freak-school!" he snickered with grim satisfaction. "You're in for it this time, boy, and when they kick you out, don't expect to live here!" He snickered some more and watched as an owl flew to his nephews bedroom window. "Ah, here comes one of those bloody messenger owls now!" He flung open the window and watched in amazement as the bird was ripped in two. The bloody halves fell to the ground.
"What did you do!?" Vernon repeated dumbly. Harry may have shifted position, Vernon wasn't too sure. Vernon shuddered away from the window and jumped a little as the bell rang.
"I'll deal with you later, boy!" he yelled as he ran down the stairs. Harry opened his eyes as he realized Vernon was gone. He shifted his position a little and listened to the raised voices coming once more from downstairs.
"You can't just barge in here whenever you like it!" Vernon was spluttering in indignation.
"Please, Mr. Dursley," came an official sounding female voice, "do not test my patience."
"You bloody freaks!" Vernon yelled. "You think you're the top of—"
"Petrificus Totalus!" The incantation was said sharply, and made Harry's head perk up. A witch? He listened closely as he heard light footsteps hurry up the steps.
"Mr. Potter?" said the cool, intelligent voice. "Good day to you. I am Mafalda Hopkirk, Head of the Improper Use of Magic office. You do realize that it is illegal for you to use magic outside Hogwarts until you reach the age of seventeen, don't you? Good," she went on without waiting for an answer. "While your use of a Vanishing Charm may have been over-looked, I'm afraid a Diffindo on a ministry bird – or any living creature for that matter – is quite serious. What ever gives you the idea that you can ignore a ministry letter?" Her voice grew colder and colder as she realized the boy was ignoring her.
"I don't really care," he muttered after a while in a hollow voice. "All I want is to be left alone from 'sympathisers'" the word was said bitterly, "and abusive uncles. Leave me alone." As he said alone, an apparently wandlessly cast banishing charm was used, and the Ministry official went flying out of the room.
"Mr. Potter!" she said huffily, ignoring the pain in her back. "How dare you-"
She was cut off as various objects in his room started smashing and flying around, causing the walls to obtain their present-day scratches and marks.
"LEAVE ME ALONE!" With a sharp pop, Mafalda Hopkirk was gone, and quite luckily too, as a small book flew straight where she had been standing not a second ago. More footsteps were heard running up the stairs – the Dursley's, coming to see what the commotion was. After a few well aimed, flying ornaments and bellowed insults, they were gone again.
The room returned to calm, and Harry Potter fell asleep.
They had stopped talking to him altogether now. Their snide remarks and chores had vanished, and although this seemed good, all it did was give him more time to torture himself with his thoughts. He had taken to picking up shards of broken mess and scratching things on the wall. He briefly considered scratching a calendar to show when he would be going back to Hogwarts before he realised he probably wouldn't be going back – and he didn't know he what the date was.
Authors notes:
This will probably sound incredibly arrogant, but I love the way I write. Or, maybe, I like the way this is written. I wrote this some times ago [more than ten weeks] and didn't know what to do next, so I left it. Now I re-read it and felt as if someone else had written it. It's very pleasing. Of course, I don't mean someone else had written it and it sucked [here's the stuck up part], but someone else had written it... like a well known author. Very, very satisfactory. My one concern was the back and forth timing – does it make sense to you as the reader?
Please give me your theories as to where you think this story will go! At the moment I have only a vague plot outline, details will be much accepted. Of course, there's not much basis for you to theorize on, but oh well. Maybe you have a plot-bunny you'd like me to write out? This work may or may not be slash, or romantic, so you see your options are well and truly open. Of course, I would also like my work to be refined, so don't hesitate to leave some critique if you like... which sounds silly, because if you want to you're not going to hesitate are you? Oh well.
Snake
Is it worth living, he wondered, the thought not posed as a question, but more as a random bit of thought that crossed his mind, only to vanish again. Two weeks at the Dursley's had forced him to bottle up his emotions. With no outlet, his thoughts had taken up a pattern of loss and death – his family, Sirius, Cedric, Remus, in a sense, Cho, in another – and in response he has fallen into a depression so deep and utterly absolute that it scared the Dursley's.
It had started almost as soon as he had gotten home, such as it was (who, after all, would call this house a home?). A few sharp comments had sent Harry to his room to unpack and 'stay there until he was needed'.
When he had finished unpacking he had crept over to the door to listen to what was going on. There seemed to be some sort argument going on between Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Their voices rose in a remarkably stereotypical crescendo until there was a slightly muffled slapping sound and utter silence.
Harry's eyes widened as he realized one of his guardians had slapped the other. He fiercely hoped it had nothing to do with him. He didn't want to deal with this crap right after the death of—no, he wouldn't think of it.
The loud thumping sound of something large coming up the stairs alerted Harry to the fact that he was in a very sneaky position. He quickly busied himself with organising the things in his room. He tried not to jump as the door to his room slammed open.
"Listen boy," Uncle Vernon snarled, his red face all purple-splotched and looking slightly mad. "I didn't want to take you back at all these holidays, so I'll tell you this now. You shall do whatever we say, whenever we say. You shall not speak in our presence. You shall not complain in any way. You seem to have forgotten these little rules of ours after you've been to that freak school." Spit flew from the angry man's mouth as he stressed the word 'freak'.
Harry looked at his 'uncle' blankly. "Fine," he muttered. His turned away from his uncle, not really caring at the moment. A sharp rap on the back of his head made him turn around and stare at his uncle with blank eyes.
His uncle stared back.
"Make sure you remember," he muttered before leaving. Harry flopped on his bed and fell promptly asleep.
After this incident, he had a week full of vicious remarks, chores, and unrelenting labour. He did it all blankly, not really caring about anything. His apathy was scaring them, he knew, but again, he didn't really care.
The all time low had came in the middle of his second week with the Dursley's, after he had a dream about Sirius falling into the veil all over again, only this time he was bound to a wall, and masked Death Eaters stood around pointing and laughing as Sirius fell through the veil again and again.
He had not wanted to get up the next day, and didn't respond to the several shouted commands to 'get down here now!' He had only sighed and turned over when he heard feet thumping up the stairs. When his door slammed open, he shut his eyes and curled under the blankets further.
"BOY!" Vernon bellowed, "what do you think you're doing?!" No response from Harry. The beefy man ripped the bedding off the bed. Harry continued to stare sightlessly towards the wall he was facing. "HOW DARE YOU IGNORE ME?!" Harry's uncle was nearly choking on his rage, but there was still no reaction. Vernon ripped off his belt. "I'm warning you boy, pay attention to me now!" When nothing happened, Vernon grinned cruelly, and raised his belt above Harry's back. "You need to be taught some discipline." Swishing the belt down, Vernon waited with smug satisfaction for the delightful smacking sound and Harry's howl of pain. He had done this a few times before, and he enjoyed it. However, the sounds never came. The belt had vanished in mid swing.
"What did you do?" Vernon growled deep in his throat. "You're not allowed to use magic outside of that freak-school!" he snickered with grim satisfaction. "You're in for it this time, boy, and when they kick you out, don't expect to live here!" He snickered some more and watched as an owl flew to his nephews bedroom window. "Ah, here comes one of those bloody messenger owls now!" He flung open the window and watched in amazement as the bird was ripped in two. The bloody halves fell to the ground.
"What did you do!?" Vernon repeated dumbly. Harry may have shifted position, Vernon wasn't too sure. Vernon shuddered away from the window and jumped a little as the bell rang.
"I'll deal with you later, boy!" he yelled as he ran down the stairs. Harry opened his eyes as he realized Vernon was gone. He shifted his position a little and listened to the raised voices coming once more from downstairs.
"You can't just barge in here whenever you like it!" Vernon was spluttering in indignation.
"Please, Mr. Dursley," came an official sounding female voice, "do not test my patience."
"You bloody freaks!" Vernon yelled. "You think you're the top of—"
"Petrificus Totalus!" The incantation was said sharply, and made Harry's head perk up. A witch? He listened closely as he heard light footsteps hurry up the steps.
"Mr. Potter?" said the cool, intelligent voice. "Good day to you. I am Mafalda Hopkirk, Head of the Improper Use of Magic office. You do realize that it is illegal for you to use magic outside Hogwarts until you reach the age of seventeen, don't you? Good," she went on without waiting for an answer. "While your use of a Vanishing Charm may have been over-looked, I'm afraid a Diffindo on a ministry bird – or any living creature for that matter – is quite serious. What ever gives you the idea that you can ignore a ministry letter?" Her voice grew colder and colder as she realized the boy was ignoring her.
"I don't really care," he muttered after a while in a hollow voice. "All I want is to be left alone from 'sympathisers'" the word was said bitterly, "and abusive uncles. Leave me alone." As he said alone, an apparently wandlessly cast banishing charm was used, and the Ministry official went flying out of the room.
"Mr. Potter!" she said huffily, ignoring the pain in her back. "How dare you-"
She was cut off as various objects in his room started smashing and flying around, causing the walls to obtain their present-day scratches and marks.
"LEAVE ME ALONE!" With a sharp pop, Mafalda Hopkirk was gone, and quite luckily too, as a small book flew straight where she had been standing not a second ago. More footsteps were heard running up the stairs – the Dursley's, coming to see what the commotion was. After a few well aimed, flying ornaments and bellowed insults, they were gone again.
The room returned to calm, and Harry Potter fell asleep.
They had stopped talking to him altogether now. Their snide remarks and chores had vanished, and although this seemed good, all it did was give him more time to torture himself with his thoughts. He had taken to picking up shards of broken mess and scratching things on the wall. He briefly considered scratching a calendar to show when he would be going back to Hogwarts before he realised he probably wouldn't be going back – and he didn't know he what the date was.
Authors notes:
This will probably sound incredibly arrogant, but I love the way I write. Or, maybe, I like the way this is written. I wrote this some times ago [more than ten weeks] and didn't know what to do next, so I left it. Now I re-read it and felt as if someone else had written it. It's very pleasing. Of course, I don't mean someone else had written it and it sucked [here's the stuck up part], but someone else had written it... like a well known author. Very, very satisfactory. My one concern was the back and forth timing – does it make sense to you as the reader?
Please give me your theories as to where you think this story will go! At the moment I have only a vague plot outline, details will be much accepted. Of course, there's not much basis for you to theorize on, but oh well. Maybe you have a plot-bunny you'd like me to write out? This work may or may not be slash, or romantic, so you see your options are well and truly open. Of course, I would also like my work to be refined, so don't hesitate to leave some critique if you like... which sounds silly, because if you want to you're not going to hesitate are you? Oh well.
Snake