Disclaimer: Potter world belongs to J.K I'm afraid. No infringement intended.
Warning: This has some abuse. It starts at the yelling towards the end, so roll past that is you don't feel like reading it.
Demons
At Number Four Privet Drive, a nine-year-old Harry Potter woke up trembling. The obnoxious sounds of thunder awakened the child from a repetitive nightmare of a screaming woman and a green flash of light.
Breathing heavily, he tightly pulled the covers around himself. He didn't understand why lightning always made him see the horrible sight. The only thing he did know was that he'd been having the nightmare for as long as he could remember.
The screaming was endless, confusing, and made him feel like he'd lost something he currently had no knowledge of. It shook him to no end and terrified him so much that once Uncle Vernon had been forced, as he had told Harry, to teach him a lesson about screaming out in the middle of the night.
Harry hadn't really learned anything but to try to keep quite at all costs.
Harry pulled his legs to his chest, wrapping his arms around them, and wiping his tear-stained cheeks in the process. He slowly began to rock himself like he always did. He had seen Dudley have nightmares, and although he never had the experience himself, he remembered when his Aunt Petunia would rock him and hum until Dudley would fall back to sleep. Slowly, he succumbed to a dreamless slumber.
"GET UP RIGHT NOW, BOY!! I'M WARNING YOU, YOU USELESS BRAT!" Vernon Dursley banged on the door to the cupboard under the stairs, yelling for his nephew to get up and fulfill his duty of cooking for the entire Dursley family in the morning. Today was a school day.
Harry sat up in his bed, if he could even call it that. His room, ever since he could remember, had been the tiny space under the stairs. He observed his domain: his bed, which was up against the right wall, was a four foot wide cot with broken springs--it had most likely been found in a dumpster. Next to his bed, a small and worn bedside table stood with a faded blue lamp; across from him was a shelf with all the toys he had ever received-- all five of them had been his Cousin Dudley's old, broken toys.
Harry hurriedly made his way to his door, hoping to avoid the huge shower of dust his cousin intentionally caused every morning since he had figured that if he used his chubby legs to kick at the floor during a tantrum, his cousin would appear covered in dust and spiders.
In that train of thought, the young boy hurried down into the bathroom at the end of the hall. Luckily, no one had noticed him.
He was safe for now.
Harry took a quick shower--Aunt Petunia said he didn't deserve more than three minutes under the lukewarm water. Dressed in his school uniform, the nine-year-old wore second-hand khakis, a pair of worn loafers that were two inches to big, and a blue tenting Oxford shirt, neatly tucked in as much as he could (it would look lumpy otherwise).
His relatives sent him to 'St. Thomas Catholic School'. The Dursleys had reminded him often, meaning almost every day, that the only reason that they were sending him to school with Dudley was because they didn't want the neighbors asking strange questions about him. Harry didn't really mind, he enjoyed school because it gave him more things to think about when he had nothing to do but chores.
Hesitating as he grasped the door knob, Harry took a deep breath before he opened the door to find himself face-to-face with his cousin. Dudley gave him a malicious grin before pushing the small boy back.
With a resounding 'thud', Harry fell hard onto the floor, the wind getting knocked out of him. Pressing his lips together, the small boy winced in pain but said nothing. Not a sound escaped his lips. Talking back to Dudley would only welcome more pain.
"Get up, boy! What are you doing lying about? Where is my food?!" Vernon Dursley had just come through the door and had a brand new newspaper in his pudgy hand.
Harry knew Uncle Vernon had seen him get knocked down. No one cared that it had hurt. He was a freak; the small boy knew his place. Nothing would change it.
"I just fell, Uncle Vernon. I'll start cooking right away." Harry kept his eyes down, imagining that his uncle was like a wild animal that would see eye contact as a direct challenge and attack.
Uncle Vernon ignored him and turned to Dudley. "You ready for school, son?" he said while punching the massive boy playfully on the arm as he spoke. "Come on! I'll play with you a bit before school starts." He took Dudley by the hand and led him to his large playroom on the first floor.
A flash of jealousy and longing crossed Harry's face as he watched Dudley glance back at him with a huge grin.
Harry dusted himself off, getting up and rushing to the kitchen his Aunt Petunia always kept obsessively clean. He reached under the counter for a skillet and had to get on a step stool to turn on the oven and prepare the eggs and bacon.
Careful to make sure that no egg was burned, he served the plates, making sure he got the smallest portion and left at least two extra servings for Dudley and Uncle Vernon.
A few weeks ago, Dudley had tripped him as he was setting the table and he had accidentally broken three plates. Dudley had immediately yelled out to tell on him, and he had earned a slap in the face, indecent names a child of his age should never be called, and three days locked under the cupboard under the stairs without food.
The day they had removed the chains, he had been ordered to wash the filth off himself and cook breakfast. He had made the mistake of putting a little more food on his plate. The action had cost him to be called "ungrateful" and "selfish", and he had been given a long list of chores to complete before he was allowed to eat a piece of hard bread and a tiny block of cheese.
It was unbelievable he hadn't collapsed.
"Breakfast is served," Harry called after he had set the table, keeping his voice down just in case they thought he was being deliberately defiant.
Just another day existing, Harry thought bitterly.
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Completely alone, not that it was a new concept to the child, Harry sat in the far deserted corner of the school courtyard and entertained himself by building castles, digging a large hole to use as a moat. He winced as a rock struck him on the back of the head.
Dudley was the biggest kid in school, he and his gang would bully all the other children to do their bidding and give them what they demanded. Dozens of kids had been withdrawn from school after being beaten, not one of them had told their parents about Dudley under threat of death.
Harry knew that not even his cousin could go that far, but frankly, with enough provocation, his uncle might be capable. Harry didn't want to find out; the threats were enough.
Dudley had assured Harry he would make his school life miserable. No one was allowed to speak or play with Harry or they would be targeted by Dudley and his gang. His cousin practically ran the whole school. It was so bad; Spenser Cannings was rumored to have been sent for psychiatric evaluation after intense coercion from Dudley. His crime: refusing to beat up a small girl to the pulp for Dudley's entertainment.
Today, it was apparently Harry's turn to be ambushed.
"Owwww!" Another larger rock had struck him on the shoulder. Several rocks followed the first and Harry was tired of it. He saw Bruce Hager, from his cousin's gang, hiding behind a bush. He glared at him, temper rapidly rising.
"Stop it!" The other boy just laughed and continued his throwing, the stones were getting larger. Harry was infuriated. iWhy was it always him who had to suffer?!/i
Glancing about for any monitoring teacher, Harry saw none of them in the immediate area. No one would care anyways; they didn't see. He was an invisible burden and they hated him, thought he was untouchable, ugly. No one had ever given him a hug or said anything nice at all about him because there was nothing desirable about an orphan whose drunken parents had died in a car crash.
Harry was so tired of being hurt, of numbing himself to the pain.
Hyperventilating, Harry fisted his hands until they hurt, getting up and feeling a strange sensation all over his body. It felt like pins and needles and his chest felt so heavy and painful. A force came from his body in erratic waves and he could feel something powerful fueling his emotion. He looked at the bush again and it burst into flames.
"AHHHHHHH!" Bruce screamed and jumped back, away from the bush. "What in the world?!" he yelled and soon after fainted into a bed of leaves.
Harry glanced down at his hands as if he expected to find himself in another body. He couldn't have done that himself. Fear erupted in his chest as he glanced up to find that all the bushes were on fire. As fast as he could, he sprinted for the school building in search of help.
"Where do you think you're going?!" His cousin Dudley and his other cronies had circled him and blocked his path to the school building.
Harry was out of breath from his run and was hunched over, clutching his knees. "Let me through!"
"Look at him giving orders as if he could do something about it!" Dudley chuckled, his double chin flopping up and down as he did so. He began to circle Harry and knocked him to the ground. "Let's teach this freak a lesson!" They all began to kick and punch him mercilessly.
Harry managed to get up and make a run for it, stopping with a groan when he approached a dead end. The three story school blocked any exits, and the larger boys approached in a semi-circle around him with grins on their faces. Harry looked up to the building, searching for any grooves he could use to climb. If he could only get up there!
Two boys, who Harry knew as Charlie and Davis, pressed him up against the wall, holding him up so that the others could use him as a punching bag. Harry was used to being beaten; however, his eyes widened in horror when he saw the boys show him a brown paper bag.
How could they know about it?
He had been so careful not to let others catch on. Months ago, while playing in the courtyard, he had found a baby snake between some weeds. It was a harmless tree snake. He had taken it upon himself to feed, and as surprising as it was, to talk to the snake. The snake could talk! It could have been his imagination, but Harry had understood its hisses as natural speech. The snake had quickly become his one and only friend and companion. When no one was looking, he would sneak up to the School's garden during recess and spend some time with it.
"What, Potty Boy, you didn't think we would find out about it?" Stanley Voltaire was walking toward him with a smile on his face. Harry struggled against his holders.
"Let it go! Please!" Harry watched, his heart thumping in his chest and anger quickly flaring, as Voltaire threw the brown bag on the floor and jumped on it. Blood drenched the bag.
Harry felt like he'd just lost the only thing he cared for in the world.
"NOOOOOO!" Harry felt the same sensation from earlier pump through his body and all the other boys were thrown back hard. There was so much anger within him just fighting to get out.
An invisible force was pulsating from Harry in waves. He made his way to Stanley Voltaire, who was at least twice his size, and lifted him easily off the ground, his emerald eyes wild; he punched him and heard the sickening sound of his nose breaking. Harry felt no pain at all; all he could feel was the force driving him to inflict as much pain as possible, to push the hurt away by giving it to others.
"Mummy, help!" Voltaire cried pathetically as his nose spurted freely with blood. He tried desperately to shield his face, fear and pain screwing up his face and making him look weak and small. Harry let him fall to the ground and picked up Dudley.
Harry felt like he was floating and watching the scene from afar. The numbness felt so good, all encompassing, and Harry didn't want it to end. He didn't want to be weak, didn't want to get beaten ever again or have to block out harsh insults.
The other children in the playground had run to circle them, and some of Dudley's cronies had run and hid after they had been terrified by the force that threw them down. In his stupor, Dudley had forgotten to run. The other kids were now cheering, seeing the bullies finally get what they deserved.
Harry pinned Dudley to the wall and his cousin's eyes widened in fear as Harry made to punch him in the stomach. No one had ever beaten his cousin; the pig had no real idea of what pain was. Harry hated him for making him feel dirty and so undesirable, as if he was below him in every sense of thee word. He hated him for feeling no guilt at all when Harry was holding back tears when the pain was excruciating. The young boy felt every punch, every push, every derogatory remark, every break of skin, and every demeaning activity he was ever made to do.
He beat Dudley for all the years of torture he had endured. After the feeling started to fade, when Dudley looked terrified, Harry was starting to feel some of the rage burn away. Dudley fainted and fell to the ground.
Harry's blazing emerald eyes searched for the other boys who had made his entire life a living hell. The invisible force Harry had released earlier had made their escape impossible. Each of them were scattered across the school yard hanging upside down as if being held up to invisible ropes tied to the air. They were waving their arms; terrified. Several of them had fainted over fright. Harry was astonished as to what was happening around him. He had been so angry over the murder of his snake that he had just let the fury run through him, and his body had almost acted on itself, like it was revenging years of torment.
The nine-year-old looked over to where the bushes were and found that the flames had spread to a tree and that most of the vegetation was ablaze. He glanced back at the kids who had been cheering and realized that they were looking at him as if he was a creature. Many were frightened, and backed away from him, thinking he would hurt them too.
He was taken aback by the look in their eyes. Was he really freak? He looked down on himself as if repulsed, the last thing he wanted was to be feared and be thought of as different. He ran, closing his eyes, wishing to be anywhere but there, willing it all to become a dream and for him to wake up in his bed. He came to a stop and realized he was on the school roof. How had he ended up here? He glanced down and saw the children pointing at him and he tried to hide in the ledge as the Headmistress met his eyes.
Not one of them saw, Harry thought, not one of them cares for the freak. Why did he bother?
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Petunia and Vernon Dursley sat in the comfy chairs offered to them by the Headmistress. They were patiently waiting for her to receive an urgent fax and discuss why they were there. They looked at each other, worried that their freak of a nephew had done something to tarnish their reputations. Vernon had been called from work to be at the meeting. Petunia had been in the process of watching if Janice, three doors down, was in fact in the middle of a scandalous divorce.
Upon entering the school, they had thought their Dudley had been hurt. They had seen other students' parents leading their children to their cars, and when they had walked into the school they had spotted a fire truck pull away. Most of the bushes and trees in the courtyard had been badly burned or destroyed. They had been subjected to stares and vicious glares by whom they thought were their friends and good neighbors. Even as they were led by the school nurse to see their beat up son in the infirmary, it had done nothing to appease their growing dread. Dudley seemed afraid of something and had refused to speak, not even allowing the nurse to get near to him.
Nothing was adding up and they were, quite frankly, confused.The Headmistress, Sister Elverly, was taping her foot impatiently, standing in front of the Dursleys with an angry expression, nostrils flaring, and her hair askew under its covering. The Dursleys wrung their hands uncomfortably; already thinking of scenarios and horrible things their nine-year-old nephew could have done.
They had given the boy nasty and intimidating looks when they had passed him on their way to the office. The child had been sitting next to a police officer with his head hung, he appeared to be trembling and he was crying softly. They were disgusted; whatever he had done, he was going to pay for it!
The fax machine sprung to life and the Headmistress jumped towards it with a look of victory crossing her already pruned features. "It has finally arrived!" She turned to the Dursleys appearing temporarily insane in her haste, "I suppose you're wondering why you are here? Your nephew, Harry James Potter," she read quickly, glancing down, "has attacked several students, set the school on fire, and among other bizarre events(she had not wanted to say they had taken the good part of the afternoon getting the kids in the air down), he has destroyed and trespassed upon school property. He is a delinquent of the worse kind! I am more than relived to get his kind out of here!
She paused for what she apparently thought would be sufficient for a dramatic pause before she spat, "He is as of now EXPELLED! Your son, who has probably been tampered with by the boy, will also be expelled! Your disgrace is unbearable by our school and you are no longer welcome to our church!"
She wildly glanced around, looking half mad further silencing the shocked and horrified Dursley family. "I BELIEVE THAT LITTLE DEMON FREAK TO BE POSSESED AND I SUGGEST YOU GET HIM HELP! Now take your vermin with you and leave! Now!!" she sprayed them with spittle as she said the last words with wild anger.
Vernon, not easily intimidated, stood up ready to threaten the crazy nun, but he felt a pull on his shoulder. "Petunia, she has no right to speak of our son in that way!" His wife closed her eyes, her face red, shaking her head, and pleading with her eyes for them to leave.
Vernon burst through the door, violently grabbed Harry by the arm, and led him to the car. Petunia took Dudley from the infirmary, and wore an impassive look on her face. Vernon tossed Harry into the back furiously, hardly restraining himself from doing what he really wanted to do to the boy, who was still trembling and was obviously scared. The Dursley sat in the front with the still silent Dudley sandwiched between them, while Harry sat looking out the window in the back.
They arrived at the house, Vernon stormed inside. Petunia led Dudley inside too. Harry was left in the car, and for a second he considered running away. Surely no one would care…but where could he go? Where wouldn't he be seen as a freak and risk getting treated worse? If it turned out to be worse Harry wouldn't be able to come back.
He was so very alone…
He knew his parents were dead, or they wouldn't have left him there. Since he'd been small he'd witnessed all the things a parent was supposed to do. In his own little world, locked up in the cupboard under the stairs, he had imagined they were there with him sometimes and that they would give him presents on his birthday and Christmas. He'd draw what toy they would give them or imagine what they would do together.
His mother would always hold him in her arms as if he was special and his dad would ruffle his hair and tell him how proud he was to have Harry as a son. They would smile down at him and they never raised a hand to Harry or told him how wrong his existing was. Together they'd take him to school and he'd have friends and he'd be able to actually do well in his studies without worrying about his relatives and how they'd think he was trying to make Dudley look bad.
NO! Harry couldn't dwell on what could have been if his parents hadn't died and left him alone. Leaning his forehead against the window, Harry caught his reflection. The boy looked so ugly and small to him--nose bloodied, black eye, busted lip. What a pathetic sight and he hated it, he hated that boy. Harry raised his fist and he just wanted to beat the image away, he wanted to break it and scream and cry because it wasn't fair. So ugly that no one would ever touch him, so horrible, he was so bad that he deserved what he got for being a freak. He had beaten his cousin and his friend and he felt so horrible for losing control to whatever idirty/ithing was inside him. The glass wouldn't break and Harry let out a cry of frustration because not even beating his fist against the window had been harsh enough to hurt his hands, his filthy demon hands.
All he wanted was to be loved…to be held….
It was a terrible feeling to experience; not being loved. It was something he wouldn't wish upon his worse enemies. There was never an acknowledgment on the day of his birthday, nor a cake, not even a gift. He received nothing for Christmas, except for when he'd been five; he had not even bothered to look under the tree and Dudley had screamed that he'd gotten one. Easily, the young boy could remember the great feeling he'd gotten as he had slowly opened the box, treasuring every second of it, just to find it empty. The Dursleys had laughed at his expense. The entire day, he had been consumed with such sadness.
Resigned, Harry reluctantly opened the car door, making his way to the house, dreading every step he took. Eying the door and windows for any sign of movement, he slowly reached a shaking hand towards the doorknob before he was pulled in by the bony arm of Petunia Dursley.
"HOW DARE YOU!" she hissed.
Harry tried not to cry out as she grabbed his shoulder in a painful hold.
"You ungrateful swine! I provide you with a home, a bed, and this is how you thank us!" Her eyes were so angry. "Did you know you got Dudley expelled with yourself today?!" His Aunt Petunia was red-faced and towering over him, her bony hand came down on his cheeks several times, until he could taste the metallic flavor of blood. Still furious, she released her nephew and let her husband come through. She stomped down the hall and into the bathroom to tend her son's wounds.
Body trembling, Harry looked up at Vernon, his enormous mass above him; he was furious, his face was red, and he was breathing like a bull.
Harry was terrified.
Like a honed missile, his uncle's fist came down onto Harry's ribs and he flew across the room towards the wall. A crunch was obvious in the air as the blunt force snapped his ribcage. "YOU HAVE DISGRACED US," the man bellowed, stalking towards the boy.
Whimpering and fearing for his life, Harry got as close to the wall as he could, horrified when his uncle disappeared and returned with the chain used to lock Harry up in the cupboard.
"What will the neighbors say?!" he continued on as he was retrieving the heavy chain. "If I'm lucky I won't lose my job." A slash was heard as the chain came down.
WHOOSH!
Everything in Harry's body flared with pain.
"I'm being sued for damage to the school! And you have ruined us, laid your filthy hands on my son, and tried to taint us with your disgusting freakishness."
WHOOSH!
"Thanks to you, our reputation is destroyed. My Dudley would be lucky to get admitted into Smeltings now," he shouted.
WHOOSH!
Harry felt as if his lungs were burning, and he was choking as if he wasn't receiving any air.
WHOOSH!
It hurt so badly and the most the small boy could do was turn around as the chain wrapped around him. His voice was becoming hoarse as he used his last remaining strength to cry out for help.
WHOOSH!
Feeling like he was about to pass out, Harry's eyes widened as green flames consumed his entire body and all the years of agonizing torture and abuse erupted to the surface, fueling the fire. Everything around him was being scorched and the wind had picked up speed, forming a vortex that was flinging everything out of its path. He grasped the chain just as it was about to hit him in the back of the head for the second time and pulled on it with an amazing amount of strength, snatching it out of Vernon Dursley's iron grip. The power in his body erupted and seemed to sustain him and keep him from feeling the pain temporarily.
However, the eruption caused the house to explode with such a force that his Uncle was flung against the wall and fell to the floor, his head bleeding. Harry looked to the side and realized that the house was being consumed with green flames, and the wind was whipping the walls and roof, seeking escape. The licks of wind and fire had seemed to entwine with each other, causing the house to explode with a deafening explosion. When the air cleared, Harry spotted his Aunt and Dudley lying on the street, some debris had fallen on them when they had been thrown from the house. Abruptly the flames stopped, only a protective shell remained, protecting Harry and keeping him alive.
Terrified, Harry scooted himself to the corner. Was he really human? Maybe he was a freak, or a demon like his Headmistress had said? He was in shock; trembling as he thought about what the consequences of his actions would be. He bent himself into a comfortable position, feeling the warm flames on his skin; he laid his head on his lap, afraid about what terror would lie before him. He didn't even know if the Dursleys were alive, and the thought of murdering anyone, no matter how terrible they were, made him feel as if he had just committed an abominable crime. Where would he go? What would be done to him?