Disclaimer- I dun own Harry Potter and people.I do own the teapot though.
I got bored.
It was a breezy summer day for number four Private Drive. Birds were singing, kids frolicking, sprinklers humming and dogs were chasing mailmen. All was spiffy. Well almost all.
A skinny scar faced teenage lay flat on his bed gazing up at the cracked ceiling. He was thinking about his godfather. A tear fell from his emerald eye and ran down his cheek. The only person he had left to consider family was now dead. He glanced over to his nightstand where a smashed, square mirror lay. He sat up and punched the wall. Plaster fell to the ground, blood goosed between his fingers.
The boy said a colorful stream of words and wrapped an old sock around his knuckle. He was going to kill the man that killed his parents. Then he was going to kill the wench that killed his godfather. He kicked the black wooden trunk that was placed at the foot of his bed, and then yelped with pain. He hopped to his bed, sat down and blew on his big toe.
Feet pounded as they ran up the wooden stairs. The skinny boy hid his hand behind his back, just as his bedroom door flew open. A very large boy with a turkey neck stomped into the room and pointed a chubby finger in the other boy's face.
"You ate the last cupcake didn't you? Didn't you?" the boy shouted.
The skinny boy sneered. His cousin Dudley was very fond of food. You could tell by his weight. "No you ate the last cupcake this morning, my dear cousin" he said through gritted teeth. Ever since he was one he had to live with his aunt, uncle, and his cousin. He couldn't help but detest them. They treated him horribly. Ever since he was eleven he had to sleep in a cupboard under the stairs. In fact the only reason he didn't runaway was because of what Dumbledore had told him before he left Hogwarts for the summer.
Dudley glared at him with his beetle eyes. He was breathing hard from running up the steps. "You're lying! I know you are! I only had five cupcakes this morning! I deliberately left one for later!"
The boy's temper rose. He was mourning his godfather's death. He didn't need the Dursleys' crap. He stood up, slightly wincing (his toe still hurt) and shook his bloodied fist in his cousin's face. He leaned forward so he and his cousin were only centimeters apart.
"I'm not in the mood for your crap! Get out! Get out now!" he yelled as he pushed his cousin out the door (which he slammed in the fat boy's face).
"Open this door right now you-you cupcake stealer!"
The door violently shook as Dudley pounded on its surface. The boy took a step back, knocking into an empty birdcage. Empty? Oh yes, he sent Hedwig to Hermione's so he could think for a while. He glanced at the window and thought of jumping out of it but then thought otherwise. Meanwhile the banging of Dudley's fists was soon joined with the boy's aunt and uncle's screams.
"You open this door right now!" yelled his uncle Vernon.
The boy sat back down on his bed, listening to the commotion. He really wasn't in the mood for this. He lifted his arm and examined his left hand. Blood was leaking through his sock. He peeled the article of clothing off his hand and tied another ragged sock around it.
Just as he finished so the door fell off it's hinges and landed on the bedroom floor with a thump. The boy jumped in surprise. All three Dursleys stood in the doorframe with their hands on their hips, lips perked and faces looking as sour as ever. He frowned as his uncle stalked toward him and lifted him by the collar, into the air.
The boy hung inches from the ground as he stared his uncle in the eye. "What do you want?" he asked bravely.
Uncle Vernon emitted a growl from the bottom of his throat, and then threw his nephew against the nearest wall. Dudley cheered his father on. The boy's uncle cracked his knuckles and punched the boy in the jaw and again in the ribs.
The boy rolled over in pain, clutching his now broken ribs. A small smile formed on the boy's lips. Pain. He didn't have to think about Sirius or his parents or Voldemort while he was in physical pain. His smile grew even more when his uncle had kicked his shoulder. Pain. He continued to smile while his uncle gave him the worst beating of his life.
Just as the over-weight man was about to do his finishing move the boy he was beating chuckled. Dudley's cheers had stopped and his aunt stopped admiring her nails. They all looked at the boy quizzically.
He was now rolling over on the ground, banding his fist against the ground, and laughing hysterically. Pain. He loved it. He loved how it made him forget. Forget about all of his troubles, of his past.
"He's insane mother!" Dudley exclaimed.
His mother put a hand on his shoulder and dragged him downstairs, afraid that her nephew's lack of sanity would rub off on her 'Dudkins'. The man kicked the boy one more time before following suit.
That night as the boy lied down to go to sleep he couldn't help but admire his body. His right eye was black and blue. Cuts were scattered all along his form. His left hand was now numb, but had stopped bleeding sometime that evening. Pain. It was so simple. At that moment he knew it was the only thing to keep his mind off everything else.
He glanced yet again at the smashed mirror and frowned. With a click, he turned off his lamp and went to sleep, dreaming of nothing but blackness.
The boy lazily opened his eyes. He had awoken to a tapping noise. Irritated, he threw off his covers and walked to the window. As he suspected Hedwig was tapping on his window with her beak. A letter tied to her foot. He opened to window and allowed her to come inside, then closed it again.
The owl looked at his bruised eye and scraped body then rubbed against his arm as if trying to comfort him. The boy looked at the owl strangely then remembered. He had been beaten last night. He had enjoyed being beaten last night. The boy mentally scowled himself. How had he enjoyed that?
He was disgusted. He was ashamed. He was angry. How did he enjoy that he asked himself again. Growling, he untied the letter from his pet's leg, opened it and read:
Dear Harry, I know you asked me to keep Hedwig all summer but she seemed so anxious to get back to you. Are you coming to the burrow next week? Wait what am I asking, of course you are! Why would you want to stay with the Dursleys? [To feel pain Harry thought for moment but then mentally kicked himself. He shouldn't be thinking things like this.] Ron says Percy is still being a butt. I do hope he and the other Weasleys make up though. Mrs.Weasley is absolutely crushed. Harry, if you ever need to talk.Ron and I are here for you. If you ever need to talk about anything, and I mean anything, just come to us ok?
Hermione
Harry crippled the letter in his fist. He knew what she meant. She wants him to talk about Sirius. Well he didn't need her! He had pain.
The boy's eyes suddenly went very round and very wide. Where had that come from? What was happening to him? Why was he thinking like this? He put his hands before his face and examined them, as if expecting his reality to be a dream.
"What's happening to me?" he whispered aloud.
A/N- wow I didn't mean to write a thing that made sense. I was going to write some odd thing about Ginny really being a guy and Voldemort being a muffin in disguise.I didn't mean for this plot.it just sort of came while I was writing the second paragraph. Wow, I like it though.I doubt I'll finish it but I like it. You see I usually stop writing once I get to third chapter or so.unless I get reviews *hint hint*
Flame or Praise I don't care.just please review.
I got bored.
It was a breezy summer day for number four Private Drive. Birds were singing, kids frolicking, sprinklers humming and dogs were chasing mailmen. All was spiffy. Well almost all.
A skinny scar faced teenage lay flat on his bed gazing up at the cracked ceiling. He was thinking about his godfather. A tear fell from his emerald eye and ran down his cheek. The only person he had left to consider family was now dead. He glanced over to his nightstand where a smashed, square mirror lay. He sat up and punched the wall. Plaster fell to the ground, blood goosed between his fingers.
The boy said a colorful stream of words and wrapped an old sock around his knuckle. He was going to kill the man that killed his parents. Then he was going to kill the wench that killed his godfather. He kicked the black wooden trunk that was placed at the foot of his bed, and then yelped with pain. He hopped to his bed, sat down and blew on his big toe.
Feet pounded as they ran up the wooden stairs. The skinny boy hid his hand behind his back, just as his bedroom door flew open. A very large boy with a turkey neck stomped into the room and pointed a chubby finger in the other boy's face.
"You ate the last cupcake didn't you? Didn't you?" the boy shouted.
The skinny boy sneered. His cousin Dudley was very fond of food. You could tell by his weight. "No you ate the last cupcake this morning, my dear cousin" he said through gritted teeth. Ever since he was one he had to live with his aunt, uncle, and his cousin. He couldn't help but detest them. They treated him horribly. Ever since he was eleven he had to sleep in a cupboard under the stairs. In fact the only reason he didn't runaway was because of what Dumbledore had told him before he left Hogwarts for the summer.
Dudley glared at him with his beetle eyes. He was breathing hard from running up the steps. "You're lying! I know you are! I only had five cupcakes this morning! I deliberately left one for later!"
The boy's temper rose. He was mourning his godfather's death. He didn't need the Dursleys' crap. He stood up, slightly wincing (his toe still hurt) and shook his bloodied fist in his cousin's face. He leaned forward so he and his cousin were only centimeters apart.
"I'm not in the mood for your crap! Get out! Get out now!" he yelled as he pushed his cousin out the door (which he slammed in the fat boy's face).
"Open this door right now you-you cupcake stealer!"
The door violently shook as Dudley pounded on its surface. The boy took a step back, knocking into an empty birdcage. Empty? Oh yes, he sent Hedwig to Hermione's so he could think for a while. He glanced at the window and thought of jumping out of it but then thought otherwise. Meanwhile the banging of Dudley's fists was soon joined with the boy's aunt and uncle's screams.
"You open this door right now!" yelled his uncle Vernon.
The boy sat back down on his bed, listening to the commotion. He really wasn't in the mood for this. He lifted his arm and examined his left hand. Blood was leaking through his sock. He peeled the article of clothing off his hand and tied another ragged sock around it.
Just as he finished so the door fell off it's hinges and landed on the bedroom floor with a thump. The boy jumped in surprise. All three Dursleys stood in the doorframe with their hands on their hips, lips perked and faces looking as sour as ever. He frowned as his uncle stalked toward him and lifted him by the collar, into the air.
The boy hung inches from the ground as he stared his uncle in the eye. "What do you want?" he asked bravely.
Uncle Vernon emitted a growl from the bottom of his throat, and then threw his nephew against the nearest wall. Dudley cheered his father on. The boy's uncle cracked his knuckles and punched the boy in the jaw and again in the ribs.
The boy rolled over in pain, clutching his now broken ribs. A small smile formed on the boy's lips. Pain. He didn't have to think about Sirius or his parents or Voldemort while he was in physical pain. His smile grew even more when his uncle had kicked his shoulder. Pain. He continued to smile while his uncle gave him the worst beating of his life.
Just as the over-weight man was about to do his finishing move the boy he was beating chuckled. Dudley's cheers had stopped and his aunt stopped admiring her nails. They all looked at the boy quizzically.
He was now rolling over on the ground, banding his fist against the ground, and laughing hysterically. Pain. He loved it. He loved how it made him forget. Forget about all of his troubles, of his past.
"He's insane mother!" Dudley exclaimed.
His mother put a hand on his shoulder and dragged him downstairs, afraid that her nephew's lack of sanity would rub off on her 'Dudkins'. The man kicked the boy one more time before following suit.
That night as the boy lied down to go to sleep he couldn't help but admire his body. His right eye was black and blue. Cuts were scattered all along his form. His left hand was now numb, but had stopped bleeding sometime that evening. Pain. It was so simple. At that moment he knew it was the only thing to keep his mind off everything else.
He glanced yet again at the smashed mirror and frowned. With a click, he turned off his lamp and went to sleep, dreaming of nothing but blackness.
The boy lazily opened his eyes. He had awoken to a tapping noise. Irritated, he threw off his covers and walked to the window. As he suspected Hedwig was tapping on his window with her beak. A letter tied to her foot. He opened to window and allowed her to come inside, then closed it again.
The owl looked at his bruised eye and scraped body then rubbed against his arm as if trying to comfort him. The boy looked at the owl strangely then remembered. He had been beaten last night. He had enjoyed being beaten last night. The boy mentally scowled himself. How had he enjoyed that?
He was disgusted. He was ashamed. He was angry. How did he enjoy that he asked himself again. Growling, he untied the letter from his pet's leg, opened it and read:
Dear Harry, I know you asked me to keep Hedwig all summer but she seemed so anxious to get back to you. Are you coming to the burrow next week? Wait what am I asking, of course you are! Why would you want to stay with the Dursleys? [To feel pain Harry thought for moment but then mentally kicked himself. He shouldn't be thinking things like this.] Ron says Percy is still being a butt. I do hope he and the other Weasleys make up though. Mrs.Weasley is absolutely crushed. Harry, if you ever need to talk.Ron and I are here for you. If you ever need to talk about anything, and I mean anything, just come to us ok?
Hermione
Harry crippled the letter in his fist. He knew what she meant. She wants him to talk about Sirius. Well he didn't need her! He had pain.
The boy's eyes suddenly went very round and very wide. Where had that come from? What was happening to him? Why was he thinking like this? He put his hands before his face and examined them, as if expecting his reality to be a dream.
"What's happening to me?" he whispered aloud.
A/N- wow I didn't mean to write a thing that made sense. I was going to write some odd thing about Ginny really being a guy and Voldemort being a muffin in disguise.I didn't mean for this plot.it just sort of came while I was writing the second paragraph. Wow, I like it though.I doubt I'll finish it but I like it. You see I usually stop writing once I get to third chapter or so.unless I get reviews *hint hint*
Flame or Praise I don't care.just please review.