Disclaimer: As much as I'd love them, J.K Rowling has all the rights to the Harry Potter Universe!

Thank you to hellokitty1996 for your review, I'm still undecided about Vernon's fate, but I do have a few ideas up my sleeves :)

Also thank you and welcome to the newest viewers, and all those who have Followed and Favourited! You are welcomed with open arms on this adventure :)

All these lives that you've been taking

Deep inside my heart is breaking

Broken homes from separation

Don't you know it's violation?

It's so wrong but you'll see

Never gonna let you take my world from me.

The world outside these walls may know you're breathing

But you ain't comin' in

Daughtry - All These Lives

"Open your eyes for me Harry, I need to say goodbye! I can't go without saying goodbye!"

The words echoed through Harry's dreams, but try as he might, he just couldn't reach the source of them. His eyes failed to open, almost as if they were glued shut and his lungs burned with every breath he failed to suck in. Was it supposed to hurt so much in your dreams? Did the doctors think that because he wasn't fully conscious, he wouldn't be able to feel the pain that coursed through his veins at every tiny movement? She was there, his Annessa, he could hear her sometimes.

Her quiet sobbing clawed at his heart in the brief moments he woke, unable to move, unable to do anything but lie there, seeing nothing but darkness, hearing everything around him. He had tried to reach out to her, tried to comfort her, but she hadn't noticed, and nobody else took the time to sit with him long enough to get a reaction. Snape wasn't there, or at least he hadn't heard him, and it hurt knowing his dad wasn't by his side as he usually was. Had he finally gotten sick of the freak Harry was? Why couldn't that man have finished the job? Then everyone would have been happy!

"Please Harry! If you can hear me, remember I love you! Your dad loves you! He'll be back later, so you gotta wake up for him, okay? He said he was doing something to make you feel better, so you need to show him it worked!"

Well almost everyone. Did Annessa really care about him so much? And what about Snape? What could he possibly be doing that would make him feel better? Unless he'd found a new side-effectless drug to help combat the Leukaemia, then Harry seriously doubted it would make any difference. In fact, the only thing he could think of that would make it all better was actually having his dad next to him, holding his hand, telling him it would all be okay. That's all he wanted. Yes he was trapped in the darkness, but that didn't mean he had to be alone in there, company was what he craved at that moment in time. Annessa was good, but something had changed in her, she wasn't the same carefree person he'd known only days ago. Had he done that to her? Had he extinguished the light she held in her eyes? Crying out from the confines of his mental prison, he wished with all of his magic that he could see her one last time. But wishes don't come true, do they?

.

"How was your sleep? Mine was very refreshing!"

Vernon groaned in pain, biting down on a piece of material lodged in his mouth. The taste of petrol assaulted his senses, but no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't spit the offending thing out. That thing hadn't been in his mouth earlier. Was there any purpose to it? Clearly nobody had been able to hear him the last time he was awake.

"Now that you've had time to think things over, I'd like to set out some rules in this." The man paused, his brows scrunched in thought. "Let's call it a fun house."

Fun house? What sort of sick psychopath was that guy? Vernon attempted to scream something, the words getting lost behind the gag. Where the hell were his men? Hadn't they noticed he was missing by now? It should be that guy in the chair, with Vernon taunting him, not the other way around. For as long as he could remember, he'd been the one calling the shots. Especially when it came to those pathetic guys he hired to do the dirty work. The newest one was way to easy with that kid of his. The brat would be lucky if she lived two weeks, especially now her good for nothing father had failed. He had one simple task, kill the freak. Was that so hard? Evidently so for a braindead moron.

"That thing in your mouth serves one purpose, you see? I'm going to recreate something Harry told me, and though I know it won't be nearly as thrilling for me as it was for you, I will try my best."

Vernon's breath caught in his throat as his eyes took in the table of tools sitting against the wall. So the freak had squealed? He would definitely pay for that! All Vernon had to do was get the man to untie him somehow, and then he'd be free to kill off all ties connecting to the blasted Potter. But how to escape? He could try to earn the man's trust? That may work. Nodding to himself, he composed a conversation in his head. All he had to do was convince the man that Potter had lied to him. It would be like taking candy from a baby. They didn't call him the best man for nothing.

.

A small cat slunk into the old warehouse, brushing up against the lone figure with a compassion neither had experienced from one another before. That night they were united, both with only one thing on their minds, to make things right for Harry. Nobody messed with something of theirs, not ever. Magical laws or not, there was so much you could do without a wand. The man bent down, scratching at the cat's ears, a small grin on his face.

"You know what must be done?"

The cat meowed softly, hissing in the direction of the scum that had harmed her Lion. So what if they destroyed a life in the process of earning justice for one broken boy. Even He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was a saint compared to the Dursley's. But neither of them would be able to hurt anyone ever again, not after they had finished with them. Blood could be mopped up, and the old place was being torn down pretty soon anyway to make way for the new memorial building that was in the process of being finalised. The owner, who the cat had gotten to know more in the past five minutes than she had in the years she'd known him, was more than happy to let the place go with a grand party. The Dursley's just so happened to be the main event. Stalking off in front, she pushed her way into the concrete room, sinking her claws into a leg as she passed the whale of a man. It was definitely going to be a night to remember.

.

It wasn't true what they said. That you couldn't feel anything when you were in a coma. Harry could feel. He could feel every damn thing. Every needle prick. Every sharp thing. Every tear that dropped onto his hand from one of four visitors. He could hear more voices, not one of them Snape. But Ron had come by, and it had taken his mother carrying him kicking and screaming from the room to actually get him to leave. Hermione came too, but she was much easier to convince to leave, and she did so with a tearful goodbye.

Was that them giving up? Was it really that hopeless? Ron would never give up, Harry knew that. The redhead was more stubborn than practically everyone he knew. And Annessa? She would carry on going until her own clock stopped, and then she'd accept it, as she already seemed to have done. Death is inevitable. There is no easy way out, not really. An easy way out would be to cheat death entirely. To live forever in a world with no pain, no suffering. That was the life Harry wished to live. A life with no more death, no more illness, no more pain.

It wasn't true what they said. That childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies. Death doesn't care if your life hasn't even started yet, or if you have enough dreams to fill a bucket five times over. Most people associate dying with those old folks in nursing homes. Just as most people associate cancer with smokers, and the OAP's of the world.

But in reality, an average of 1,574 children are diagnosed with the disease every year in Britain. And of that 1,574, an average of 252 lose their battle. The statistics are even worse for teenagers, with an average of 2,234 teenagers and young adults being diagnosed each year, and 311 of those losing their fight. Harry couldn't end up as another statistic, another name forgotten. Annessa had once revealed that fear to him, and he had promised he would never allow that to happen to her, but if he died as well, who would remember them? Who would keep their memory alive for years to come? Who would care?

A/N: How did I do? Hit review and let me know! If there is anything at all you'd like added, or anything that doesn't seem quite right, please let me know either by private message or in a review :)

The figures at the end are real, and were taken from the Cancer Research UK website

For those none English folk out there, OAP stands for Old Age Pensioner, so basically the elderly people.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, the next will be up Friday as I have cadets tomorrow!

Seeya soon, nicholosaur :)