Harry Potter and the Greater Good
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing of the Potter universe, not its characters nor its world. All rights reserved by JK Rowling.
Warning: Contains Child Abuse (Age 16) and mentions of it at younger ages. Will eventually be slash/Snarry but not explicit or detailed. OP Harry. Canon up to and including Order of Phoenix, AU after.
Prologue
July 30th 11.20pm.
The slight figure stood at the window, his face turned up and out towards the night sky. His head was cocked to the side, listening to the pounding of the rain and the scream of the wind as it shook the glass. A flash of lightning illuminated the pale thin face and the horrible blisters that spread across both closed eyes. The blisters were red, angry and oozing, the flesh from temple to temple swollen and puckered. Another flash revealed even more blisters around the mouth and as a terrible thunder sounded and as the house shook under it, those blistered lips grimaced up into a brief and grim smile.
The weather had been strange all summer; instead of the heatwave of the previous year, there had been weeks of torrential rain and almost nightly thunderstorms. Hundreds of homes and businesses had been affected by flooding, billions of pounds of damage done, but the boy found it comforting. It seemed right to him that the weather outside should reflect the feelings within.
A soft hoot, barely audible over the crash of the storm, and the boy withdrew from the window and turned towards the sound. In his surprise, he had momentarily forgotten himself and had tried to open his eyes; his lips drew back in a grimace of pain but no sound escaped him. His eyes were swollen shut and the skin too tight, he hadn't succeeded in opening them but the pain was appalling, a wave of nausea washed over him and he staggered over to the bed, falling onto it just as his knees gave way.
For a time, he remained still, not daring to move, to breathe. The immediate danger passed, his stomach settled, and he slowly let out a gasp of relief. A rustle and then Hedwig was perched on his knee, hooting softly, leaning to brush against his cheek gently. She had long since come to understand the consequence to her master should she make too much noise. He reached for her carefully and, finding a thick pile of letters and a few lumpy parcels, relieved her of the burden and tossed them onto the bed beside him.
'Hi girl,' he thought at her, 'I didn't know you were back.' He knew she couldn't hear him, of course, but it made him feel a little bit better. He felt around on the mattress until his fingers brushed against one of the packages. 'I guess that means it's my birthday, huh?'
His friends always sent his birthday wishes and presents around midnight on his birthday, and if that was the case this year, that meant it had been four days since the accident that had taken his sight, and eight days since the one that had taken his voice. In a way, his blindness was a blessing; he had found it unbelievably hard to read the good cheer in his friends' correspondence, and even harder to fake the same in his replies.
'So, I'm 16.' He thought to himself, dispassionately.
He found he didn't care.
The Boy-Who-Lived. The Chosen One. The Saviour. Golden Boy. Triwizard Champion. Harry-Bloody-Potter. So many names, so many titles, and a small part of him – a very small part – wished that they could see him now. He could guess what was in those letters; Ron all excited as he described his new hobby of snogging Hermione in minute detail, Hermione's would always be the same 'have you done your homework', and fretting again about the imminent arrival of the O.W.L results. Mrs. Weasley would have sent her usual care package of food, and promises that he could soon visit. None of them would mention the day he had killed his Godfather. They wouldn't mention Voldemort…
He shoved the letters away in disgust and felt around in the drawer to his bedside table, frantic now and getting worse by the second until he found what he was looking for. That small broken piece of glass, the very thing that could have saved the life of Padfoot. He closed his fist around it tightly, ignoring the small flash of pain as it once again pierced his skin.
He deserved it.
He deserved everything he got and more besides.