Hello, my lovely readers. Yes, I know it's strange; I have ventured away from my lighthearted Anime fan fictions and jumped right into Harry Potter. I do not own J.K Rowlings story, though I do claim my own plot. Warning, this story is not for the faint of heart. Violence and abuse in this first chapter.
PS. If there is anyone out there that is willing to be my very patient beta, and willing to explain how the whole beta process works I will be very grateful! Yes, I am reposting this with the corrections Microsoft Word has informed me, but it doesn't catch all the grammar mistakes.
The one year old lay swaddled in his thin blanket and looked up. He was on a small concrete porch and was able to feel the bristle surface of the welcome mat beneath him. His forehead hurt. Uncomfortable, the small child whimpered softly and cried, wondering where his mummy was. She was warm and she made sure the hurting went away all the time, but she wasn't there now. Whimpers getting louder, the child waited for his mum to hear him, but again neither she nor his daddy came to him. It was cold, and he wanted his thicker blanket with the dragon on it.
The child with the scarred forehead lay there and soon quieted when no one came to help him, his young mind drifting off. He remembered the funny green light from the man's stick that had hurt him. He didn't like that man at all, thinking his mum needed to give him a time out. Squirming uncomfortably the child shivered. At times he could hear echoes of his daddy the mummy shouting. His mummy had called his name. Then the light…. Then nothing
The child eventually fell asleep in the cold October night and did not awaken until the morning, when a heavily overweight man walked out and stepped on his stomach. Harry began to cry out shrilly from the new pain.
"What the bloody hell?!" The elephant sized man with the creature- Ahem I mean moustache on his upper lip looked down at the crying baby and scowled.
Bending down the fat man grasped the letter that had fallen off the child in the middle of the night, ignoring the wails and flipped it over. The Hogwarts Crest was one thing the man never wanted to see. Hand shaking Vernon Dursley tore open the letter and began to read the curling script.
"Petunia!" Turning around he ran back in and slammed the door, leaving the crying infant outside.
"Petunia!"
The Horse-face featured woman came running out, holding a fat blob-like infant in her arms. The one year old in question had a pastry in both hands and was, surprisingly, succeeding in shoving both into his small mouth. Vernon smiled at his son before recalling why he was shouting and scowled at his beloved wife.
"What is the meaning of this!?" He waved the envelope in her face, showing the broken Hogwarts seal. The woman paled and turned, quickly walking into the living room to set Dudley in his playpen.
"I haven't got any clue as to what you're talking about dear." She barely had time to turn around when a large hand swung out and clapped against the side of her face.
Always the hand and never a fist, so as not to leave a bruise. Crashing to the ground the scrawny woman sat and knew not to rub her face. He would hit her again if she did. Petunia looked up far enough to gaze at his forehead, and not into his eyes. The vein pulsed.
"Do you think this is funny? I will not have a… a… freak living in my house! You send him right back to that freak school or the brat's father's family. I will not have him here!" He crumbled the letter up and threw it into her face before turning and marching out. The door slammed shut behind him, and the sound of the child screaming in pain was audible a second time. Finally the sound of an engine cranked and he pulled away.
At first, Petunia did nothing. Dudley remained unaware as he licked the cream from his pastries off his pudgy little fingers. She was trying to understand what her husband had been talking about, but could not come to any conclusion. He had continuously repeated the word freak so the woman gradually came to the conclusion this had something to do with her sister Lily. Having not received any word from her in a year the woman snatched up the crumbled letter and stood, opening the abused letter. Inside, it mentioned Lily and James Potter's death, which Petunia had trouble not crying from. She may have resented her sister but she did love her. And now she was responsible for their brat! Tossing the letter into the wastebasket she walked to the door slowly.
Opening it wide she looked out and then down. Vernon must have kicked the child because his lower lip was bloody. Bending, the horse-like woman picked up the black haired infant. Turning, she slowly carried him inside, not missing the fact she smelt a very aromatic nappy. She changed the unconscious child, bathed his lip and redressed him in a pair of Dudley's old cloths, shocked to find them a little baggy.
How could Lily leave her with this... With this child? She didn't want Harry, with his horribly common name and inherited looks of his freak father. No doubt he was a freak as well, with his magic! How Britain could continue letting such people run about causing trouble- but then not many normal people knew about them. Sneaky little freaks.
Lifting up the one year old, she was not expecting him to wake up right then. Nearly dropping Harry, Petunia stared into his pained green eyes and for a moment she was not thinking about him at all. She was 12 years old again with Lily, at the train station. Unable to stop the tears that filled her eyes she swiftly walked into the living room and put him into the crib with Dudley, who immediately began to pinch and poke his cousin from curiosity. Harry's cries were ignored all day. Things only got worse when Vernon returned home.
-oOo-
Vernon gripped his fork extra tight, Dudley's highchair to his right and his wife, whom had been hit a few more times on his return home, on his left. The man was glaring at the child that had been left in their living room, drinking from one of HIS SON'S bottles and drinking the formula that HIS money had bought for Dudley. Petunia had said they wouldn't take him back and if they tossed him into an orphanage they would just keep bringing him back or the blood ward- whatever the ruddy hell that was!- Would stop working and they would be in danger. Bunch of manipulative lies no doubt.
Vernon reached under the table and grabbed his wife's bony thigh, squeezing painfully tight.
"I will not do anything for the boy! I do not want you taking any of your attention away from my son. Give the boy the bare essentials and that will be all he gets! Do I make myself clear, Petunia?" Dudley didn't seem to catch the menacing tone of his father, just laughing as he gorged himself on his baby food.
Petunia gave a very slight nod to her husband and gave him a horse smile.
"And he will not be drinking any more of Dudley's formula! Sugar water is all the boy needs." He snarled as he put a fork full of roasted lamb into his mouth.
"Yes darling." Petunia stood up and went to the boy at an even pace, willing him to drink quickly. Bending down she grasped the bottle again and was greeted with Lily's eyes. She pulled the bottle away and was rewarded with a cry from Harry. However, she did not respond and simply went to the kitchen to dump the contents from the bottle.
Vernon's vein began to pulse at every minute the boy began to cry more and more. Flinging his cutlery onto the table, much to Dudley's delight, Vernon walked over to Harry and grabbed him by his arm painfully. Dragging the child across the room, he opened the door to the broom closet and dumped the little one year old inside with the vacuum and mop. Closing the door with a bang he turned and walked back to the kitchen to finish his supper, the muffled shrieks of the boy being completely ignored.
-oOo-
Harry lay curled up on the blanket in the cupboard, half his face swollen and bloody. He recalled he'd been hit because he had accidentally burnt the breakfast sausage. Wincing slightly in pain he managed to roll over onto her back, a throbbing pain in his left knee. Oh yes, Uncle Vernon had gotten him good this time, he had deserved it. He just couldn't help watching Dudley open his presents. Not because he was jealous or anything. Harry was used to not receiving any gifts and to be honest, with the way Dudley's fancy gadgets always managed to break before the first week of summer was over, he did like to look and see them. They were visually intriguing to the six year old.
Harry remained quiet. Talking wasn't allowed unless he was spoken too. Slowly, pushing himself up with the arm that pained him less, the young child propped himself up against the wall and waited. Since it was Dudley, the fat pig in the wig's birthday and Aunt Marge was coming they would have to bring him out for appearances sake. To be honest, despite the fact his Aunt Marge hated him about as much as his uncle Vernon did, Harry was glad she was coming. He was given a plate of food when they came. Of course no one talked to him, and he always had to clean the dishes after but that didn't matter. Harry could count on both hands, how often he got a full meal.
The cupboard door slammed forward. A bony hand reached in and grabbed him by the shoulder. She was gentle for a split second before jerking him out and to his feet, marching the boy outside to the tin tub. He didn't get to use the shower inside, and they disdainfully allowed him the use of their toilet.
Stripping the boy, she shoved him into the ice water. A minute later a bar of hard lye soap was applied to his hair and she scrubbed gently. It was a secret between him and his Auntie Tunia (Something he only called her privately, of course) that she was much nicer when it was just him and her.
"You will keep your mouth shut tonight Harry. Please. Vernon is already seething with anger. It will… not be pleasant if you make him any angrier." She urged in a hushed voice.
"Yes, Auntie Tunia." The boy held obediently still for his aunt as she scrubbed him down.
"Petunia, isn't the boy ready yet!?" Vernon's voice boomed, making them both jump.
"Yes Darling! Get up Boy." She made her voice sound disgusted as Harry quickly stood. Without bothering to hand him a towel she swiftly shoved him back in his clothes and bustled him inside, where Vernon was straightening his tie.
"Marge will be here soon. She can't wait to see you, Dudley my boy!" His father spoke proudly, not even tossing Harry a second glance.
"Yes Father." Dudley didn't even look away from the TV, slowly stuffing more and more of his first birthday cake into his mouth. Another cake was waiting in the fridge for after supper.
Vernon turned and glared down at Harry. Ominously he leaned forward and got right into the little boys face, hissing angrily.
"If you so much as look at my sister funny you're going to wish you were never born. What I have done beforehand will seem like a pleasant dream compared to this. Got it, boy!?"
Harry gulped, nodding quickly in response to his uncle.
-oOo-
Harry stood, back pressed up against the tree. Tied down by the wrists with some rope, he was unable to move. The little boy was terrified beyond belief and his uncle hadn't even come out to exact the punishment Harry knew he deserved.
A moment later, the back porch light flicked on. Walking outside, his uncle carried an old wooden paddle in his hand. Harry Potter began to sweat bullets in fear.
"Think you can get away with it, calling my dear sister whatever you like FREAK? Well I will not tolerate that in my household!" The paddle swung forward and slammed into his side. Unable to suppress the shout of pain, Harry cried out. Sneering in approval his uncle swung the paddle again, much harder this time.
"You're a freak just like your magician father!" WHAM! Harry tilted his head back and cried out. Dropping the paddle his uncle Vernon removed a shoe and yanked off his sock, stuffing the foul thing into the boy's mouth to shut him up. Moments later the paddle collided with his ribcage. He could feel something crack.
"And your mother, she was just a freak and a whore! Wouldn't even accept my superior advances over your freak of a father!" BAM!
Swinging the paddle in a raged frenzy, it collided over and over into Harry's torso, breaking more and more ribs. Occasionally the paddle would slam into his arms and legs. It eventually broke his left arm. Harry hung from the ropes, spitting up blood. Around one a.m. his uncle dropped the paddle and had, he assumed, returned inside. But he was about to find out that he was very wrong. Walking out with an old belt, his uncle began to beat him again. The metal buckle of the belt continued to slam into his body. He grunted and cried out in pain every time the metal piece that went through the hold of the belt bit into his skin, which was often. Soon, young Harry Potter was covered in cuts and bruises, bleeding profusely.
The only comfort he received was the fact that it was a cold evening, and this soothed his aches marginally. Around two a.m. his uncle seemed to finally calm down and tire of him. Picking up the paddle and his belt, Vernon left the boy there as he went inside to sleep. Petunia closed the curtain and felt like crying.
I seriously cried as I wrote this. My family is not stranger to this kind of thing, my dad being a law enforcement officer and my mum being a social worker. I decided that this would be a good way to maybe bring child abuse into awareness. But assure you Harry won't be with the Dursley's much longer. Please review. Ja Ne!
UPDATE! Thanks to Japboix1 for being my wonderful beta! Thanks so much!