Just as a warning to readers of a sensitive disposition, this chapter contains a scene of strong child abuse. It is a necessary part of the story for the future plot. I will highlight the area for those who wish to skip the scene.
Chapter 2
Hogwarts?
Vernon Dursley arrived home from a long and tiring day at work, business was slow. His frustration increased through the day as potential business deals fell through, but he knew that the boy would be around to vent his frustrations on.
To their neighbours, the Dursley's were a respected family, living in the leafy village of Little Whinging in Surrey. They had graciously allowed their nephew to live with them after his parents accident and the boy had been nothing but ungrateful to his Aunt and Uncle. In reality, much of this was wrong. The family were foul and abusive to their nephew, often starving him for days on end for performing well in his studies. He was regularly beaten by both his oversized cousin as well as his Uncle.
Harry had spent the past eight years living with the Dursley's. He had been brought up on the mantra that freaks like him don't deserve the luxuries that hardworking, normal people have. His clothes were several sizes too big for him, his mattress was the same one he had slept on when he arrived as an fifteen month old boy. The 'room' in which he slept was nothing like an actual room as it was fashioned from the under stairs cupboard, which he shared with countless spiders as well as various cleaning instruments.
Harry was busy painting the fence in the back garden when he heard the door of his Uncles car slam shut. 'This doesn't sound good,' thought Harry as he tried not to think about what sort of mood his Uncle would be in.
Vernon stormed into the house with one thing on his mind, punishment. 'Since that boy arrived on my doorstep, I have had nothing but trouble since. My business has declined, people aren't interested in our product and want to buy cheaper products from Asia,' Vernon thought as he headed out to the garden where the boy should be.
Harry hears his Uncle open the door that led from the kitchen into the garden. Rather than looking at his uncle and further encouraging the beating he knew was coming, Harry tried to relax his body in preparation for the assault that was due to happen.
Vernon neared the boy, noticing that the boy wasn't aware of his presence, Vernon couldn't believe his luck, for he knew that if the boy knew of his mood, he would try and flee like he had in the past. It had taken him ages to track the boy down, losing some of his anger, letting the boy off with a lesser beating and starved him for a week and a half.
The scene that may offend people, when you see the next lot of exclamation marks, it will be over.
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Harry had relaxed himself and knew what was coming, but the second his Uncles fist connected with the back of his head, he regretted his decision. As Harry fell forwards, his head collided with the raised stone patio and passed out. The next thing Harry knew he was tied to a worktop in a shed. His arms were fastened around one of the support poles while his legs around a second.
Harry lay helplessly as his uncle injected him with some form of anaesthetic. He felt his mind closing down, yet remained fully conscious. His uncle walked away from him before picking up his hammer of the work top. He turned to face Harry, who noticed a malicious grin appear on Vernon's face. His uncle pulled the hammer high over his head before pulling it towards Harry's kneecap. Even with the anaesthetic, Harry felt and hear his kneecap shatter upon impact. He didn't immediately feel the pain, but when it finally hit him he wished his uncle would just kill him.
Vernon pushed his leg back before he sent another shattering blow to Harry's right kneecap with the same results. His uncle then turned his attention to Harry's arms, tied so he couldn't move them. he replaced his blood coated hammer on the work top before picking up a screwdriver and a smaller hammer. His uncle carefully placed the screwdriver on the crook of his left elbow, which was also lined up with his right. Once he was satisfied with the positioning, his uncle raised the hammer before letting it fall on the screwdriver, driving it into Harry's elbow, splitting his left elbow. Now the screwdriver was lodged in place, he replaced the smaller hammer and retrieved the larger one to finish hammering until the handle broke through both elbows.
Now the boy couldn't escape Vernon untied Harry. There was nothing he could do to avoid any of Vernon's attacks. Vernon's next tool was his brand new electric drill he had received from work. He started the drill up before drilling through Harry's thigh. Muscle fibre and shards of bone were being dragged out until he felt no resistance on the drill. He proceeded to drill through every bone on both of Harry's legs; Harry lay there watching his uncle begging to be able to tell Ginny what was happening.
Vernon then removed his knife stand of knives before stabbing, slicing and cutting at Harry's trunk. There were thirty entry wounds on his stomach, sixty slices across his chest as well as flesh cut from his legs. Vernon's smile never faulted during the vicious assault. Before leaving his nephew to go and meet Petunia and Dudley from the station, he kicked Harry in the face, smashing his glasses into his face. Pieces of glassed rushed towards his eyes, he barley shut his eyelids in time. With a couple more kicks to his face and body Vernon left the shed. A couple of seconds later, the anaesthetic overcame Harry and he fell into a deep sleep.
A few hours later, Harry was unsure of the length of time, but the first thing he noticed when waking was that he was unable to move, he felt pain exploding through his body, everywhere hurt. He opened his eyes, but was forced to shut them as the light was too bright. He slowly opened his eyes again, allowing them to be accustomed to the light. He noticed he was still in the shed at the back of his Uncles house, the light entered the shed through the window to where Harry lay. He looked around and noticed many of his Uncles tools were covered in blood, 'no doubt mine' thought Harry. That was the last conscious thought Harry had.
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Harry was unsure as to where he was, or how long he had been unconscious for. He couldn't physically move, his eyes refused to open as the light behind his eye lids was too bright for him, he listened out for any noise that would betray his surroundings, but all his ears could pick out was silence. Harry started to concentrate on what his skin was touching to see if he could make out anything. All he could feel was cold hard stone, almost similar to the feeling before he passed out, only there was no blood this time.
Chancing the brightness, Harry slowly opened his eyes to reveal an extremely bright light very close to his eyes. He immediately slammed down, hoping to prevent any more discomfort. He gently moved his head to the left to try and protect him from the light and opened them again. With the back of his head blocking the brightest light from his eyes, Harry was able to open his eyes for longer this time. He was surprised to notice that the place he was lying was alien to him.
Around the world, there were ornate statues made from various materials, Harry tried to recognise them, but he had never seen anything like them in his life. The closest statue to him was of a strange animal that had the body of a lion, the wings and head of a eagle. As Harry looked closer at the sculpture, he noticed that on the front paws, the creature had talons like the eagle, but the hind legs were that of the lion. Harry stared in complete bewilderment, 'How long was I out for?' Harry thought to himself. He was sure that there were no such creatures, or statues of before his beating.
He turned his attention to a second statue, just behind the first. He knew from the first instant that it was a dragon, but what Harry couldn't explain was why had this place has a statue of a dragon. More to the point, what am I doing here, and where am I?
Behind his head, Harry felt rather than heard a presence standing in close proximity to where he was lying. Turning a little too quickly, his neck cracked loudly, forcing Harry to close his eyes, as if that would prevent the inevitable pain to arrive. The pain never came and Harry immediately began to worry.
'What is this place? Where's the pain? Am I dead?' Were some of the thoughts currently travelling through Harry's suddenly overworking brain. Trying to calm himself, whilst also searching answers to questions to which he couldn't figure out from his current position was far easier said than done.
"Where am I?" Harry asked aloud to no-one in particular as if the room he was in would actually tell him where he was.
"You are in Eleasias dear boy." A feminine voice told him.
Harry suddenly stopped all of his attempts at trying to move, he was in shock. The voice that sounded in his ears hadn't come from his right where he felt the presence; it came from the direction of the statues he was examining only moments ago. Harry's mind added another dozen questions into the running loop of unanswered questions racing through his mind faster than any racing car could ever match. Harry tried to pull a question from his mind but as he opened his mouth, he couldn't control what words actually came out.
"What is Eleasias? Who are you? What am I doing here? What is this place?"
"All will be explained to you when you are fully recovered dear child," The voice interrupting Harry's stream of questions. "For the moment I will tell you that you are safe, your injuries are almost healed. A few more days and you shall be well enough to leave this room and settle in more comfortable surroundings." When the voice stopped talking, Harry felt himself becoming too drained to think any more and fell into a deep sleep.
The next time Harry woke up, he found himself in much more comfortable surroundings. The stone on which he had lain upon had been replaced by the most comfortable mattress he had ever felt. His body was covered in silk sheets and a thin duvet which kept Harry nice and warm. The paintings that decorated much of the room were more welcoming than the imposing statues he had witnessed the last time he opened his eyes. Although the sun was clearly shining, the light didn't affect his eyes as much as the light had.
As Harry rose out of his bed, a young girl entered the room carrying a tray laden with food for him. The girl was no more than a couple of years younger than Harry, who was fast approaching his ninth birthday, although he wasn't too sure if it had passed yet or not. The girl smiled warmly to Harry as she placed the tray on the bedside table for Harry before leaving the room.
After dressing in some clothes he found on the chest at the bottom of the bed, Harry turned his attention to the food and started to greedily shovel the food into his mouth as if he had never eaten before today. His attention was so focused on the tray in front of him; Harry never noticed that he was now joined in the room until a familiar voice announced their presence.
"How are you feeling today Harry?" At the sound of the feminine voice, Harry dropped his fork, splattering his scrambled egg across the tray and onto the floor. Harry looked in the direction of where the voice came from and was surprised with what he saw.
The woman, although she didn't look entirely human to Harry, was standing five feet away from Harry, watching him with rapt attention, as if she had never seen a boy before. Her eyes were pale blue, almost the same shade as the tropical waters Harry had seen in one of the brochures his relatives look at when they plan their holidays. Her hair was pure silver and pulled back in a bun, there were no signs of wrinkles on the tanned face. The most intriguing feature harry picked out from her head was her ears, they were larger than any he had seen before and the top of them were pointed, rather than curved. She was much taller than any person Harry had ever seen and even thinner than he was, which he thought was impossible. She wore a funny cloak that changed from green to yellow depending on what angle the sun caught. The reason Harry was unsure if she was human or not was the fact that there was a strange pink light encasing her whole body. The more he stared, the more the colour moved around her body, dancing before his eyes. Harry was unsure if he had actually woken up or whether this was all a dream.
"It's good to see that you are healed and so quickly too."
"How long have I been here?" Harry asked.
"You have been with us for almost two years Harry. It's good to see that you are finally about on your own, we were worried that we were too late to save you." The woman responded, slightly confusing Harry.
"How do you mean about on my own?"
"I meant by the fact that you were able to get out of bed and move about with any assistance, this means your injuries have fully healed."
"Was it really that bad, I don't really remember much of what happened?" Harry tried to concentrate on what had actually happened, but there seemed to be a blank spot within his mind. As he tried harder to remember, Harry felt the onset of a headache, causing him to stop his internal search.
"After the damage to your internal organs, holes through almost ever joint within your body and the subsequent brain trauma suffered, I wouldn't be surprised if you struggle to remember anything about the whole incident. We have done our best to heal you fully, although there isn't too much we can do about your memory at the moment. When we are able to help you more, you will return here and we can help you."
"Who are you? You're not like any other doctor I have seen before." Harry asked.
"I am an Elven healer Harry, I look after Elves." Her face made Harry believe she was serious, although Harry knew that Elves didn't exist, they were in fairy tales for children. He wasn't sure how to question her without upsetting her.
"If you look after Elves, then why are you looking after me, I'm not an Elf?"
"On rare occasion, we will leave our realm of Eleasias, our home, and travel to the human realm to save a witch or wizard who has a great importance to their realm. You are most certainly the most important wizard in your realm, which is why the Elven Elders decided to bring you here."
Harry had decided that being polite wasn't really answering his questions, maybe this was an elaborate hoax by his Uncle to confuse Harry and get him sent to the local mental institute to finally be rid of him.
"How can I be a wizard? Elves, Witches and Wizards exist only in fiction, there is no such thing."
"I'm afraid that you are wrong there Harry. Witches and Wizards are all around your realm, living in secret from the non-magical people of earth. You parents were both magical and attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Speaking of which, you must return to your Uncle's immediately, your letter should be arriving anytime now, and Harry?"Harry looked in her direction, "my name is Eloise and Happy Birthday."
Before Harry could say anything more, he found himself falling through blackness, growing faster and faster the further he fell. Harry was abruptly woken from his slumber by his Aunt banging on the cupboard door.
"Get up now, your Uncle has to be in work early." There was one last bang on the door before Harry heard the door to the kitchen open then shut a few moments later.
Life is so unfair, I really wish I had died with my parents rather than being there slave, Harry thought as he rose from his bed and dressed ready to make breakfast. Do this now boy, were the first words Harry had learnt.
Harry had spent the past two years on an isolated ward after his last beating by his Uncle. Obviously no-one knew that it was Vernon that had attacked Harry, he had an alibi and said that he and Petunia had returned home from his sister's and found the boy lying in a pool of blood. Two years in hospital, he returns home and is immediately forced to make breakfast like the past two years had never happened.
Although today would be his eleventh birthday, Harry knew better than to expect any presents or even a card. The only 'presents' he received was an extensive list of chores that had to be completed within a set amount of time. The time limit was always ridiculously short so it would give his Uncle the chance to beat him again. He hoped that this year would be different after what happened, though he refused to hold his breath.
Harry walked into the kitchen and stated to remove the pans from their cupboards and set them on the stove before removing the food from their various places. Ten minutes later and the coffee machine emptied its steaming black gold into the glass pot ready to be poured. As Harry poured his cup, Vernon picked his cup up and walked over to the table to help himself to a piece of toast while Harry plated up his food.
As if on cue, Dudley waddled into the kitchen as Harry placed his plate on his table mat. Dudley glanced at Harry momentarily, before starting to scoff his face on the oversized portion his cousin supposedly needed. After the cooking was finished, Harry washed the pans and wiped down the cooker before settling down to his breakfast of two slices of bread, an apple and a glass of water. Sometimes, if he was lucky, Vernon would allow him to eat some bacon, today wasn't one of those days. After eating his paltry breakfast, Harry cleaned the table while Dudley went and showered and Vernon and Petunia sat discussing their plans for the day.
Harry was interrupted from his daily ritual as the letterbox rattled to indicate the postman had delivered the days mail.
"Boy, what are you waiting for? Didn't you hear the mail arrive, go and get it." Harry placed the plate he was washing back into the bowl and dried his hands before leaving the kitchen, walking to the front door. Before he could pick up the mail, Dudley had already descended the stairs wearing his uniform. Unlike Harry who went to the local junior school, Dudley was at boarding school, but was home for his birthday, which happened to be the day before his own.
Dudley walked towards Harry with an accusing look as he read the names on the envelopes. "Dad, there's a letter here for Harry. Harry's got a letter."
In Privet Drive, this was something that never happened. In his whole time there, the only time he was ever mentioned in a letter was his end of school reports, which were never read as he wasn't worthy enough to waste Vernon and Petunia's time on. Harry was in shock, even more so than any of the Dursley's. 'Who would be writing to me?' thought Harry, just as Vernon voiced that same question, only not as polite.
"Who the ruddy hell would be writing to that freak? It must be a misdirected letter." Vernon's words brought Harry from his thoughts and he made his way back to the kitchen with the faintest hope that he would actually get to read his letter.
As Vernon relieved Dudley of the mail, his attention was immediately drawn to the expensive looking envelope which was addressed to Harry. There was no doubting the intended recipient; it was even addressed to his cupboard under the stairs. Harry watched Vernon's face as his anger started to make an appearance as nasty red and purple blemishes on his face. Luckily for Harry, he was over the other side of the kitchen otherwise he knew he would be in for one hell of a beating.
"Who the hell have you been telling that you live under the stairs?" Vernon snarled, trying and failing to keep his anger in check, he didn't want the boy to take another trip to the hospital so soon after being released. "We have been kind to you, given you a roof over your head after you freakish parents decided to play chicken with trains when they were drunk. We didn't have to take you in, we did it out of the goodness of our hearts and this is how you repay us. You're an ungrateful swine, just like the delinquents who brought another freak into the world. If it was up to..." Petunia nudged Vernon and gazed at the letter, with a look of trepidation plastered across her face. She was suddenly sweating, unable to talk.
Vernon ignored both Harry and Dudley and turned the letter over, whatever was on the back seemed to have put the spooks up him as his face immediately turned pale, it was as though he had seen a ghost.
"Dudley, put your bags in the car, I'll take you back to school in a moment. Boy, I want you to go into the garden and start the weeding." Both boy's realised that trying to argue would be futile and so set about their appointed tasks, it was the first time Dudley had been told to do manual labour in his life.
Harry made his way out into the garden, where he started to pull up the very few weeds that could be found in the almost perfectly manicured rear garden of number four Privet Drive. His hands were pulling up the weeds, while occasionally glancing through the patio doors and watching what his Aunt and Uncle were doing with his letter. They seemed to be arguing, though Harry was unable to hear any of the words said.
His attention turned wholly onto what was happening inside the house as Vernon had risen from the table, Harry's letter in his hand. For a brief moment, Harry thought he was actually going to be able to read the letter for himself, unfortunately, Vernon had other ideas as he headed to the cooker and turned on one of the gas hobs on the cooker. Now holding the letter in a pair of tongs, Vernon held the letter over the flame until all that was left was a pile of ashes that Petunia promptly hovered, leaving no evidence of their crime. Both looked more relieved as Vernon kissed Petunia goodbye and headed out to the car where Dudley was waiting to be taken back to school.
Harry walked back into the kitchen; the smell of the burnt envelope containing his letter overpowered any lingering smells from breakfast. Before he was able to head towards his room, Petunia blocked his path handing him a piece of paper.
"I'm going into London for the day; you're to finish all of these chores before I return or you will be in serious trouble. I have asked Mrs Figg to call in later to make sure that you're still here and working. If you complete these chores, I will allow you to join Vernon and I tonight for dinner." With that, Petunia turned and left the room heading towards the front door before turning around "I know what food we have in, so don't even think about trying to steal any of our food again." Then she was gone.
Harry spent the day cleaning the house from top to bottom. As he was cleaning the basement, the first time he had ever been allowed down there, he came across an old wooden trunk. As he wiped away many years worth of dust, an etching in the top caught his attention. The etching was of a crest, divided into quarters. Each quarter had an animal emblazoned within. There was a lion, a badger, an eagle and a snake. Below the crest was a word, Hogwarts.
What is Hogwarts? Harry thought to himself. He looked closely at the trunk trying to figure out who the trunk belonged too, but was unable to glean anymore information from it. Turning his attention from the trunk, Harry headed to the back garden to bring in the now dry washing and replace it with the freshly washed clothes now sitting in the washing machine.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
In a large round office in the centre of a very old castle in Scotland, an eccentrically dressed old man was frantically pacing every spare inch of his office. The man was dressed in a purple suit with a pale blue cloak. He paid little attention to his surroundings, ignoring Fawkes, his faithful companion of seventy five years. He ignored the silver objects sitting in the cabinet, his desk and chair which he had been sitting at not five minutes ago until he received the news that had sent him on his wanderings.
The cause of his sudden discomfort within his own office was that the letter he had sent out today to a young Harry Potter had been destroyed, without the letter even being opened. This was grave news for the old man. His plans of the last thirteen years depended on the boy starting at Hogwarts this term. He was the one who had defeated the darkest power to rise in over five centuries. This power was much graver than that which Dumbledore had faced in the mid nineteen forties. This boy had defeated his senior of some forty years when he was just over fifteen months of age.
Dumbledore had spent months persuading the boy's godfather to allow him to be placed with his last remaining relatives as they could offer him blood protection, if his parents sacrificed themselves to save their son. Though it had taken it's time to arrange, Dumbledore agreed to letting his godfather visit whenever he wished, but unfortunately, his Godfather had never been to see Harry.
Since that fateful night, the boy lived with his relatives while his godfather was sitting in prison for murdering his best friend. It had worked out even better for Dumbledore, he had to admit to himself that it had all worked out better than he had expected.
Now though, those plans were appearing to fall apart all around him. Harry hadn't received his letter and was probably unaware that it had even been sent. Rather than wasting his time with sending more letters, Dumbledore decided that the best way to alert Harry to his place at the school was to send a teacher, but who could he trust to send? The most trusted teachers were already handing out assigned letters to all the Muggleborn's and explain their world to the new students and their parents, when suddenly Dumbledore thought of his trusted gamekeeper, Hagrid. Hagrid would ensure the co-operation of Harry's relatives and would also be able to protect the boy more through sheer intimidation due to Hagrid's size. Dumbledore stopped his pacing and headed out of his office to speak with his trusted gamekeeper.
