Disclaimer: These are not mine. They belong to JK Rowling. I only wish to play with them for a bit.
Shit: thought
Shit: written
Chapter One: Bad Enough
Harry was shaking. His shoulders clenched tightly and his heart beat erratically within his chest. It screamed to him with every thump, Run! Harry could only manage to inch backwards away from those heartless eyes, and trembling purple face. "Turn around and that the shirt off," Vernon ordered as he shifted the knife in his hand.
Experience told Harry that it would be worse if he didn't comply. With hitching breath he turned around and pulled the three sizes too big shirt over his head. Harry was trying desperately to calm down before that knife could touch him. Breath deep, relax, it hurts less if you just relax Harry clenched his teeth together when he felt the knife's cold blade ghost over his skin. Harry felt the first bite of the knife and inhaled sharply and bit his lip so hard it bled. He needed to concentrate on the taste; the taste of blood on his tongue, metallic and sweet.
Vernon dug into his skin again and again. Harry fought back tears for a while, but after Vernon dug into the old cuts Harry simply let it go. Tears of pain streamed down his face to the floor where they mingled with the blood. Harry felt Vernon wipe the blade on the back of his jeans. Harry stood completely still. "Clean up this mess. I don't want to see you tomorrow."
Harry gave a small nod of acknowledgement. Vernon began the trek up the stairs as Harry mopped up the blood with his discarded shirt. With every push and pull his back screamed with pain. His jeans felt wet and he could imagine the blood soaking into them. Harry quietly made his way into the cupboard under the stairs. There were several tubes of ointment and a bucket of water waiting. The water was tinted a nasty red from yesterday. Harry carefully pulled the bucket out from its hiding place and into the bathroom. He poured it out into the sink and waited while it filled. He turned around and examined the wounds from tonight. Vernon had reopened his more recent wounds and this new one spelled in large jagged letters read, "Faggot". Harry frowned. Thank god he didn't know how true that was. Harry hauled the bucket back to the cupboard and snuck inside. Carefully he took the blood stained cloths and wetted them. He washed his cuts and applied the ointment. .
Harry thought back to Umbridge's punishments. They were nothing compared to this. Actually he preferred those goddamn quills. He would even pay for them now, anything to get away from this horrible place. Harry shuffled up the steps. The bleeding wasn't slowing down but he assumed it would while he slept. Just like every other time he had gone to bed bleeding.
It was unbearably hot and his sweat stung the cuts on his back as he lay down. The bed creaked under him and Harry glanced around the room. Hedwig was sitting on her perch watching him with golden eyes. Harry smiled. Even if his family didn't care for him Hedwig did. He let himself drift off to a blissful sleep.
(Later that night)
Harry woke to Hedwig angrily nipping his ears. He moved his arm to shoo her away, "Hedwig I'm trying to sleep." His arm missed drastically and he fell from the bed with a loud thump. Harry winced and groaned as he stood up. His head was swimming and he swayed on his feet. To steady himself Harry grabbed the bedpost.
He rubbed his head with his other hand. Maybe he was dehydrated. Harry shuffled and swayed out of the room and down the hall to the bathroom. He cupped his hands and drank deeply from the water. He rubbed his face again and looked up at the mirror. He was extremely pale, deathly pale. Harry stumbled from the room and down the hall. Something was horribly wrong. The phone clattered off of the small table as Harry fell. He looked down at the phone. He could barely tell which numbers were which. Everything was getting blurry and it felt like he was swimming in thick fog. His fingers clumsily punched the numbers and a voice sounded. "This is 911. What's your emergency?"
Harry could barely mumbled help into the receiver, before he felt large meaty fingers wrap around his neck. They were squeezing tighter and tighter cutting off his air supply. Harry felt the pain but it all seemed like it was happening outside of him. Like he was filled with Novocain and could only feel the pinch or pressure. Vernon slammed his head back onto the hard wooden floor and Harry was gone. His consciousness flooded out of his mouth in a wheeze.
(Severus)
Severus hated to leave the witching world but something had happened to Potter. Apparently no one else in the order was available for this mundane task. Sure it could be an attack, but Harry w0ouldn't be sleeping comfortably in a Muggle hospital bed then would he. Severus watched with mild surprise as the doors whooshed open of their own accord. He blew into the room and straight to the front desk. A young nurse watched him apprehensively. "Harry Potter," he spat.
"I'm sorry?"
"Are you deaf? I'm here to see Harry Potter. What room is he in?"
"I'm sorry sir but are you a relative?"
"I'm his professor. I'm his guardian when he is at school." It wasn't exactly the truth but close enough.
"Oh, sorry sir. Let me just check with his doctor." She lifted the receiver and punched in some numbers. "Harry's professor is here to see him. Shall I let him through?" There was some nodding and mhmming before she hung up with a click. "He's in room 12B. The doctor says he will meet you there in a few moments."
Severus smiled triumphantly and swept down the hallway like a hawk. 12B. 12B. Ah 12B He threw the door open and stood there stunned. Severus took back every complaint he had spouted on the way here. Harry really was horribly injured. His face was a sick purple-blue and his nose was swollen awkwardly on his face. His arms were bandaged as far as he could see. His head was wrapped in gauze. Even his chest was wrapped in gauze. There were blood stains everywhere. Harry looked as if the Hogwarts Express had run him over. A tube had been shoved down his throat forcing air into his lungs.
Severus staggered backwards at the sight. "What happened?"
A doctor behind him looked sadly over Severus' shoulder. "His family. He's never come in this beat up before. It was mostly burns and broken bones before. Seems that awful man went all out this summer." The doctor sighed.
"His family did this? Surely someone called child services."
"I've called them. They go and he's being treated like a king and Harry won't confess anything."
"What exactly did they do to him?"
"Well he's got multiple third degree burns on his arms. He has a major concussion and several cuts on the back of his head. His nose was broken. He has multiple lacerations on his chest and back, and his larynx was completely crushed. I'm afraid he'll never be able to talk again."
Severus reached a tentative hand to brush several hairs from Harry's forehead. How could he possibly live like that and say nothing? "Is it safe to have him moved? We'd like to have him closer to the school."
"He should be ok but no airplanes. A train or car only. We don't want any stress on him." The doctor looked sadly up at Severus. "How soon would you like him moved?"
"Today if possible," Severus added hastily.
The doctor gave a meek smile, "Good. Let me just get his file and we'll move him out of here." He rushed out the door and down the hall.
Severus closed his eyes and sat o the edge of the bed. The only sound in the room was the feint woosh of Harry's breath. Severus tried to imagine what had happened to the boy. He tried to imagine that large irritating man beating Harry, a strong Quiddich player, into the floorboards. He just couldn't imagine how Harry could have let this happen to him. Why hadn't he just left? He could have sent letters to someone. He could have told someone.
The doctor set the overly large file down on Harry's legs. A different nurse followed behind him. She flashed Severus a flirtatious smile as she flipped her blond hair. Severus frowned. The nurse didn't notice. She wheeled the respirator out the door as the Doctor wheeled the bed. They had Harry all packed up in the ambulance, without the respirator. Harry was breathing fine now, although he sounded rather wheezy.
Before long they were both situated in the handicapped portion of the train. Severus was flipping absentmindedly though the file until he reached this incident. There were pictures paper clipped to the sheet of white paper and Severus removed the. They were muggle photographs but all the same they haunted him. The supposed lacerations were words carved into Harry's flesh. It ranged from whelp to faggot and each one had been carefully photographed and documented. His arms were covered with what appeared to be cigar burns as well as several large oven top burns. Severus slapped the file shut and closed his eyes. Honestly how could Harry let this happen? It wasn't as if he was completely defenseless. Harry could have used his magic. Severus sighed.
(Later that night)
Harry woke to a loud argument. He blinked his eyes open and looked around the room. He was at Hogwarts? How could he be at Hogwarts? Harry felt nauseous, and thirsty. His throat felt sandy and hoarse. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked around some more. He couldn't exactly make out what the two voices were saying but they seemed to be angrily arguing. Harry opened his mouth to ask for water and only a wheeze escaped. Shocked he brought both of his hands to his throat He fell backwards with a heavy thunk and rubbed at his throat wheezing loudly in attempts to call out.
Madam Pomfrey hurried to his bed. "Harry. Harry calm down. It's ok."
Harry removed his hands from his throat and took several deep breaths. He looked up at her with frightened emerald eyes.
"Your uncle crushed your larynx Harry. That's why you can't talk. We'll get voice spell put on you soon as possible. " Harry violently shook his head. "No? Well then I suppose we'll get you a quill and parchment." She smiled down at him. "Get some rest Mr. Potter. Doctors' orders."
She left his bedside and Harry quietly closed his eyes. He took several long slow deep breaths. He fell asleep to the moaning wind and his own hoarse breath.