Author Note: This is about Harry and his relationship to the world in general. As in every story there is both sadness and happiness. It's up to you if you read this fic.
THE DEATH DANCER
-CHAPTER ONE-
BETA: Greeneyes
INFO: www. livejournal. com /users/draycious
OTHER: This storey is being re-written.
WARNINGS: Mention of abuse, drugs, smoking, nothing major. NO RAPE!
Disclaimer: I do not own any of HP's characters.
Harry Potter was crying silently, and crying in itself was very unusual for him. It was unusual because... well, he just didn't cry very easily. Right now everything had simply become too much for him to handle; Sirius's abrupt ending of life, death eaters, Voldemort sending him horrible visions that he could do nothing about… Yet he couldn't just give up on everything because he owed so much too so many people, according to himself that is.
"Boy! Get down here!" his uncle's voice boomed from downstairs.
Yes, he was still sent off to Privet Drive even during the summer holidays. It seemed like no one cared that maybe he just wasn't cut out for dealing with the muggles right now, but all Dumbledore went on about was some sodding blood protection or whatever and expected Harry to understand.
Well he didn't!
He wiped his face on his grey over sized sweatshirt and trudged downstairs feeling utterly miserable.
"We've decided to send you of to camp along with Dudley," Vernon said at once when he was spotted.
Harry was shocked. What? How on earth was he supposed to survive in one of those? What about Dudley, he was to fat to even walk to the park!
"Stop standing there gaping like a fish! Go upstairs and pack boy! Here's a list of what Dudley needs." Vernon said angrily, thrusting a list into Harry's hands. I guess the golden rule of 'ask no questions' is in action, he thought.
Harry walked slowly back upstairs without being able to comprehend what had just happened.
Camp?
He began to pack Dudley's cloths in a trance. When he was done he walked back to his room but the door stood open and he walked straight into it and smacked his head and fell to the ground.
That got him out of his trance.
"Watch yourself freak!" Dudley spat as he walked over him, barely missing stepping on Harry's hand. Harry glared at his cousin's back.
"You'll get it." he murmured. He could picture Dudley being thrown out of the camp or something similar. At the thought of the camp he went cold. How was he supposed to be at the same camp as Dudley? He didn't even know what sort of camp it was! What about the blood protection? He needed some urgent help here!
The help came in form of death.
Not entirely what Harry had pictured his help as. It only messed him up even more, his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon died in a car crash. What were the odds? After all those years of telling him that his own parents had died in a car accident. The irony of the situation.
The next couple days after the accident were a blur for Harry. The police came and placed Dudley and himself in an orphanage during which time they looked for suitable relatives to take care of them. He was unable to contact the order in anyway because the police had executed Hedwig against his protests. They claimed it was against the animal rights. They said that the owl had been too damaged to be able to live in a zoo or alone in the nature. That was completely untrue, and it hurt to even be accused of abusing Hedwig.
Mrs. Figg wouldn't know exactly where he would be, so he couldn't count on her to rescue him. She would just know a little about what had happened. So he was on his own, but all he could think of was that he couldn't think at all; and that put him in a terrible position.
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"Mr. Potter. You must work to help with the payment for your presence here." exclaimed the maiden of the orphanage one day.
"But... The government pays for me since I'm not of legal age!" he protested.
"You do as told and that's final!" the maiden spoke angrily and slammed Harry's own door in his face.
He was speechless before the truth dawned on him. This maiden was a tyrant. She made the orphans of the home work and then in turn took the money as her own. There was nothing he could do about it. He would not run away, it could only go wrong and end like it had when he went to 'save' Sirius. Since that incident he had lost his confidence and courage.
Harry withdrew from the other children. He knew they talked about him but he didn't care. Dudley had left to live with Marge but Marge had refused to take him in as well. He was very relieved; he knew he would never survive a life with them.
Harry spent all his free time sitting by a window in the attic; it was his favorite place by far, knowing that he was all alone up there. It gave him time to think things over without anyone distracting him. He strongly suspected that Madam Dran (the Maiden) was convinced that ghosts lived up there and therefore didn't go up there very often. Madam Dran was an ugly woman. She could go for the imagined "Snape" mother. She was more than cruel enough for it. It just wouldn't do, having her against him more then she already was, so years of training he had undergone living with the Dursley's finally paid off.
Harry soon realized that talking back was a big no-no. Neither should you run around inside or do anything unusual. Madam Dran was very old fashioned. The worst thing was that Harry was the only magical being there. All his former stuff had been burned. Everything had lain untouched in his trunk and Madam Dran just burned it without even bothering to look at its contents, she claimed that no one was allowed any personal possessions. Harry suspected she kept this rule by heart so she could better control them emotionally. A single belonging could often mean a lot of things; it could keep hope up and in Harry's case he could look at a picture of his mother, and fight for what he thought was right. There was no more of that now. Harry had briefly wondered if this was a good excuse to not do his homework. Snape would probably have a field day when he found out about all this.
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"Potter! Hurry you lazy wanker! You haven't got all day!" his boss yelled at him and Harry glared.
He was always told to hurry up even though he worked as fast as he could. Madam Dran had made him take the job. He was employed by a firm called 'Wizards and Wanker's. It was entirely muggle. He had no idea where the name came from but he didn't much care either. He had to carry hundred's of heavy boxes around every single day. The stuff they made were actually sex toys and T-shirts with 'funny' phrases written on them.
Apparently those T-shirts were in fashion right now and everyone wanted them. Harry couldn't imagine why. He hated them. He actually had to wear one. All the employed were forced to wear them by their boss Jack Broose, Harry supposed it was 'free' commercial for the things they sold. Jack Broose was not a funny bloke and nobody liked him. He was a fat bald man with yellow teeth and an evil attitude. Sadist no doubt.
Harry was like a magnet; he sucked all those evil people to him it seemed;
Voldemort, Wormtail, Jack, Vernon, Marge, Dudley, Petunia, Snape and Madam Dran, how much worse could it get?
Oh, and then there was Daniel, the manager of the off-hand store the company he worked for owned. Daniel worked as manager/shopkeeper and everyday Harry had to walk two blocks with a big and heavy package to the shop. He wasn't allowed to use any kind of vehicle since the company wouldn't pay for it. He wondered if the conditions he worked under were even legal by law.
Daniel always taunted him when he caught sight of him. He couldn't do anything about it because if he did he would loose his job and Madam Dran would fly off her handle and he'd be kicked out on the streets before he could open his mouth to say 'unfair'.
As if that wasn't enough; Madam Dran had a little lap dog that she ordered around. It was the stupid gardener Evan. He was stupid but he was tall and strong, he reminded Harry of Malloy's thugs, Crabbe and Goyle. Harry accidentally went against Madam Dran's rules one time and he got the worst beating of his life from Evan at her orders.
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"Holy god Potter! What the hell happened to you? Pub fight?" another box carrier named Jamie said when he showed up to work in a mess. He had tried to fix himself up the best he could but it didn't help much.
"Something like that." he whispered because his throat was sore. He had almost been strangled last night.
"Bad luck man! I can take the extra five boxes today. You don't look strong enough to carry even one, yet alone 129!" Jamie offered after eying him critically.
"Thanks, I'll make it up to you." Harry said thankfully, but a bit ashamed as well. He didn't want to put his workload on other people's shoulders, least of all to those who were nice to him.
"It's nothing, lad! I'll be Okay." Jamie said waving his hand.
Jamie was very poor and a couple of years older than himand had the reputation of being very wild and hot tempered and fought with everyone. The other boys in the firm didn't dare be near him. They usually stayed a few feet away but he had only ever been nice to Harry. Sort of taking him under his wing so to say; perhaps because they were both loners.
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Harry winced when he lifted his fist box.
Every inch of him hurt but he clenched his teeth and did his work despite the pain. He had to.
"What happened to you Potter? Finally got put into place, eh?" Jack grinned evilly when he saw him.
Harry wisely kept quiet. Jack laughed a little and went over to another boy and began to complain about some fault the old bastard imagined was there.
"Are you Okay?" Jamie asked him when he accidentally let a moan of pain slip out.
"Yeah, I'm alright. I've had worse. It just... slipped." he confessed in a strangled voice. His head was throbbing something terrible. He voiced his problem to Jamie who quickly looked around to make sure no one was watching before he fished up some tablets from his pocket and a bottle of water.
"Here! Take this quickly before Jack-ass sees us not working." Jamie said hurriedly. Harry did as he was told.
"Thank you." he said sincerely before going back to work.
"It's the least I can do. The one that did that to you must have gotten you good." Jamie said bitterly.
Harry chuckled darkly, his voice devoid of any and all happiness.
"Yeah, I know." he said.
He had been beaten unconscious yesterday and was almost late to work today because of it. He had woken up very late and it had been a close call. He thought that perhaps he should tell someone about the abuse, but then thought better of it. They probably wouldn't believe him anyway. Madam Dran was a respected woman in most people's eyes. Why he couldn't even guess. He supposed she was a good actress. If a respected judge in court could hide the fact that he was a pedophile, Madam Dran sure could hide the fact that she was a sadistic, cold, old bitch who took pleasure in making the kids miserable when she was supposed to take care of them.
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After work he hurried 'home' and changed cloths and washed his hands and face quickly before he hurried down to the kitchen. Every day he had to chop the vegetables. The other children glanced at him curiously. They wouldn't know what had happened last night because he never once screamed.
Madam Dran actually smirked at him during dinner and he looked down at his plate to prevent all his angry words from coming out. He had always had a problem with controlling his temper and he would rather not die at the hands of a muggle when no one less than Voldemort could kill him.
At least then he would be remembered… hopefully.
Harry didn't like London. He did before but not anymore. The work still reminded him a bit of the late 1900th century. He was really low down in the working chain. He was down in the work class' worst.
He who had thought he had it bad at the Dursley's...
The beatings began to be an every night occasion. He slowly but steadily began to loose his natural life happiness. The very thing that made him such a lovely person and helped him survive and dance around death.
He caught up on the other boy's language habits, especially the vulgar words they spoke. He had never been one to swear much before, but he couldn't care any less now. When he could, he joined the other working boys in the pub and started fights. Jamie began to go with him if only just to protect him. Jamie was 19 years old and Harry hadn't even turned 16 yet. It was July the ninth and there was still no sign from the wizarding world but Harry had actually forgotten all about it. He was too busy thinking of ways to survive and to keep up his work. He took life one day at a time.
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Harry accidentally dropped the box he carried on his way to Daniel and he cursed violently. The people on the street stared at him and stepped past him with a good distance. He could understand that. He looked terrible. His cloths were dirty and ripped, his face dusty, and his hair flat and greasy and his skin was covered in bruises.
Jamie had by now understood that his bruises didn't come from casual fights; he knew he was being abused regularly. Jamie had once tried to get Harry talking but the boy had become very angry so Jamie never tried it again. He was simply staying there for Harry and it was oddly comforting to the wizard.
"My, my! If it isn't the little wanker. But look at you. Were we that naughty in bed yesterday my little fagot? Or shall I call you a whore, slut?" Daniel taunted.
Harry pretended he didn't hear. He dropped the box in a corner and exited the shop with Daniel's taunting words ringing in his ears.
"What did I ever do to him?" he sighed out-loud. He was used to walking and working with his injuries now so he could work pretty fast. Jamie didn't have to take some of his boxes anymore even if Jamie said that he didn't mind. Harry had insisted to take care of it himself.
Today it was raining, and when Harry got back to the orphanage he was tired, soaked and in pain.
"Potter! Make yourself presentable! Today we'll have a visitor." Madam Dran said.
Harry sighed. The 'visitors' used to choose a child to adopt. Many had looked at him but he had always tried to look as worse as possible and he had managed to scare them all away. There were only people between the ages of 13 and 18 living there. It was both boys and girls. He wondered why anyone would ever want to adopt a teenager instead of a child, but there were always people for everything.
Harry hated it when a visitor came. Unfortunately it happened quite often. The others would adapt to sickeningly sweet manors and try to get the attention upon them to be chosen.
It was disgusting!
The Visitors would always have dinner with them. It was often a couple that came. Harry sat down with a silent sigh and began to eat and when the visitor came he choked on his potato.
"Excuse him Mr. Snape. That one has no manners," Madam Dran said and glared at him.
He was found, and by none other then Snape, his most hated professor in all of Hogwarts
