Hiya! This is just a small little oneshot depicting Harry's abuse gone too far...
The boy sat in the filth littered damp corner, huddled, shivering profusely, his clothing little more than rags. His skeletal frame shook with each shallow breath. Dark blotches standing stark against deathly pale, feverish, skin. Dark locks stuck in muddy clumps to his head. He did not know how long he had been here, time did not really seem to pass and yet it obviously did. He was surrounded by darkness or a dull dim light that only served to tell him to expect an increase in the pain and dripping of his blood from the many lacerations littering his emaciated form. When the shadows were at their fullest, fully covering him, he knew he was safer, that he would be left alone... for a while.
Overhead banging was heard and footsteps sounded, slowly descending, their heavy footfalls causing bits of his ceiling to flake away and land on his pitiable abused frame.
The boy barely reacted to the noise, used to it by now.
Though he did briefly wonder if he would be allowed out yet... all he'd done was accidently turn his teacher's wig blue and then it couldn't really have been him... because how could he have done it? Why must he be punished for something he could not control?
Without his consent or realisation a few stray tears fell from his eyes, he did not realise or try to stop them. He was quite completely numb; numb to the point where he could no longer feel, be it emotionally or physically. Neither mattered anymore. Slowly, as if in slow-motion, his once bright and youthful green eyes closed, the darkness which for so long has been his only haven, claiming him completely at last.