Harry's friend - death

Harry was so sick and tired of being at the Dursleys'. He sat in his room for hours at a time. Every time he even tried going downstairs Petunia would yell at him to do dishes or whatever other chore she was too lazy to do. He didn't do anything but lay on his bed, because if he did anything else his cousin Dudley would beat him up, even if he was just going to the bathroom. So, Harry just snuck around at night doing whatever he had to do.

So, Harry just snuck around at night doing whatever he had to do. His uncle, Vernon, was the problem then though. If Harry made the slightest noise he would come into Harry's room and teach Harry a lesson, a very hard lesson. Tonight had been one of those nights. All Harry could do now was just lay on his bed as his uncle did unimaginable things to him. Harry just turned off his mind, because he knew if he didn't he'd go crazy.

After a while his uncle got up off of him, leaving Harry there, hurt and bleeding. Vernon walked out of the room closing the door behind him quietly. Harry knew that his uncle was going back into the living room to watch T.V. as though nothing had happened.

Harry tried to get up, but he was hurt too badly, so he just lay back down and fell asleep.

Harry woke up the next morning hurting very badly. 'What happened to me?' He asked himself, but then it all came back. 'I hate living here, I want to leave.' He walked a few feet, but then fell down. Harry winced in pain. "Hedwig," He called to his beautiful snowy owl, which looked to him attentively. "Please go and get me my eagle-feather quill, some ink, and a piece of parchment, I can't."

Harry watched the owl fly around the room, grabbing his things and dropping them next to him. Then, the owl flew back to the cage. She was so smart. Harry picked up the quill, dipped it in the ink, and wrote:

Dear Hermione,

I need help, please. I can't stand living here anymore, and if I can't get out that way, I'll get out another way, a permanent way.

Please help,

Harry Potter

Harry didn't even have the strength to fold the letter, but Hedwig came and took it out of his hands and looked at him questionably. "Hermione." He finally replied and watched the owl fly off.

After two days Harry still hadn't gotten a reply from Hermione, but he still had hope. So, he went downstairs and grabbed a sandwich, since he hadn't eaten for a week. Then he went back upstairs. As soon as he had reached the top he knew he had made a mistake. Dudley stood there looking mad as hell.

Dudley pounded over and took the sandwich from Harry, "What are you doing? Trying to make us starve." Dudley punched Harry hard in the stomach. "Get back to your room, or should I say my old room, Now!" Dudley watched as Harry slinked back into his room.

As soon as Harry got into his room he noticed that Hedwig was at the window, being quiet. Even she had found out the rules of the house. Harry opened the window and Hedwig flew in and onto Harry's bed. Harry quietly walked over to her, picked up the letter, and read:

Harry,

What's going on that you can't tell me? I'll be over there tomorrow at noon to get you. Please don't give up hope, Harry. I'll see you then, so be packed and ready to go.

Love always,

Hermione G.

Harry set down the letter. 'Tomorrow, can I even make it until tomorrow?' He went over to his closet, and being quiet as he could, grabbed his clothes, school supplies, and everything else he needed for life. He did not plan on ever coming back. He then went and laid on the bed and went to sleep, hoping not to wake up until tomorrow.

Harry sat up, startled. He had heard a faint creak outside of his door. Suddenly, there in his doorway was the one person he never wanted to see again. Harry tried to back away, although he already knew that that would never work. "So, you little basterd, I heard you were trying to eat all of our food. I work hard to get the food around here. What do you do, sit on your fat arse." Harry graned in pain as his uncle grabbed him by the throat. Harry's world grew dim, and Harry faded away into darkness.

Harry opened his eyes, but squinted because of the pain, both in his throat and below. He sat up and looked at the clock. It showed 11:27 A.M. 'Just a little longer.' He told himself. Harry then looked around his room and saw that everything he had packed had been strewn about his room. He saw that his mementos, all his treasures, had been broken and ripped. Even the pictures of his parents, everything.

Harry stood up, walked to the bathroom, went into his uncles shaving kit, and took out one of the blades. 'Just this one little thing could give me relief.' He thought to himself. Harry then took the blade and sliced his arm with it, and watched the blood flow down his arm. Then he sliced his wrist, fell back, waiting to die.

Hermione looked in her closet, "What should I wear?" She threw some stuff over her shoulder. None of it seemed right. She gave up trying to find clothes in her closet. She just waved her wand, and a cute baby-blue miniskirt and a baby blue strapless appeared. "I wonder if Harry'll like this.

She walked down the stairs, and her dad looked at her like 'What the hell.' She smiled, "Dad, this is what all the girls are wearing. Isn't it cute."

He didn't say anything. She knew he was downright pissed, but he was also too scared to say anything. She went and grabbed her keys. "See you later."

She walked out the door and walked over to her car. She was so glad she had her own car. She got in and drove away, not knowing what she'd find when she went to get Harry Potter.

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Harry kept going in and out of consciousness. If he wasn't going to die, why make him suffer. Dudley had come in and acted like nothing was wrong. And this morning Vernon Durley had come in. Harry was to weak to move. Vernon picked him up and took him to his bedroom. He had yelled at Harry for getting blood on the bathroom floor, himself, and using his blade.

Why do I have to suffer like this? I can't take it. He tried to get up to get his wand, but he was too weak. He wasn't loosing blood as quickly anymore, but he still was, a little at a time.

Once again he went unconscious and he hoped this time he wouldn't wake up.