Harry awoke and began screaming. Hot fire soared down his arms and legs. He fell to the floor and started rolling around. He may have been screaming, but he wasn't conscious of it. All he could do was scream, his lungs already feeling hoarse. He didn't understand what was happening. The priest, then the light, then the kids on the side of the road, then nothing. Why was he back here?
He moaned out "Why?" Which didn't sound like something a human would create at all, but it was all he could manage. He repeated it again and again. He knocked over a shelf and some heavy books fell down on his head. His already burning head now felt like a truck had ran it over and he cried once more.
Then it stopped. And like clockwork, he heard and felt his large relatives moving down the stairs. With some adrenaline he didn't know he had; Harry moved to hold the cupboard door desperately. He couldn't repeat what had happened to him. He just couldn't.
Harry heard loud noises as his uncle slammed the door and tried to get it open. Harry held on with his life. The fire in his veins still ached, but it was dimming. Harry eventually failed to keep his uncle out and his little rebellious episode was rewarded with a hand on his hair, dragging him hard to the floor. His head ached and he held onto it with dear life as he was berated. Dudley laughed and Petunia sneered. The sight of her sent cold shivers down his spine. It was the same look as before.
Vernon grabbed him and started dragging him to the car. Harry screamed again and tried to protest, but was slammed against the car. He nearly passed out from the pain in his head, which was flaring again due to the loud barking from his uncle. He tuned it out and was eventually thrown into the car. The door slammed on his ankle, before he pulled it in and the door clacked shut with a resounding thud sealing his fate.
New pain was shooting up his leg from his ankle and he held it with one hand as he rubbed his head with the other. The foot pain was familiar. He was reminded of the large boulder which was dropped on it by the teen. He was thrown back into his seat by his uncle speeding off. The ride to the church felt surreal and Harry couldn't help but cry. Vernon sneered, but kept driving barking out a 'shut up' as he drove.
When they got there, Vernon had to reach in and pull him out kicking and screaming. Once they were out, Harry tried to make a break for it, but remembered his ankle and yelped falling to the floor. His cheek burned from the scrape and his clothes now were soaked. Vernon laughed cruelly before yanking him up and dragging him limping to the church.
As they strode in, Harry couldn't help but feel dread. The nice church music and pretty stained glass now feeling like nothing but a lie. He glared at the dead guy on the cross. Did he enjoy making Harry suffer?
The priest greeted them again and Harry took a closer look at the man. He was bald and thin and looked to be in his late forties. He had no facial hair apart from a grey moustache which dipped in at the ends. He looked all too thin, much like Harry and he wondered what was wrong with him? His eyes were white and had no pupils. Harry didn't like him at all. There was something clearly wrong with him.
Harry limped behind the man as he led Harry down to the basement again. Knowing that there was no escape, Harry did what the man said numbly. He stared up at the unnerving light with a grimace as the priest strapped him in. This time, he actually paid attention to what was being said.
"Do not worry, child. Embrace the light. It simply wishes to bond with you."
The light was pressing into his skull, forcing its way in.
His body roared with fire and he thrashed. He caught glimpses of the man as the pain wracked his body. He looked like a corpse. Harry wanted to get away from him.
After what felt like hours, the pain stopped and Harry lay panting. He thought he heard singing emanating from the light. It was all too high and didn't sound human. Harry didn't like it.
He fell into a trance once more as he was brought up the stairs and into Vernon's care. He walked to the car and they took off. The lights flashed by and Harry knew what was coming. He wished that they would run over those teens by accident so they couldn't hurt him. He knew that thought wasn't right, but he didn't care. Harry would rather they suffer than him. They were just stupid muggles after all.
The car stopped and Vernon swore loudly. He ordered Harry to go and Harry just sat. Vernon got more belligerent, and Harry got up on wooden legs. He started his walk of death. After about a minute Harry saw several blurs in the rain and stopped, knees wobbling. He probably looked pathetic standing there with a defeated look on his face. The teens converged on him and Harry was ready for the punch that caused him to drop.
The kicks started and Harry cried. Silent at first, but then wailing. The boys took that as a sign to go harder. These kicks were somewhat different than the ones before, but somehow the same. Pain was pain at the end of the day. Harry felt a rock smash against his tailbone and let out an agonized cry. A large shoe was suddenly on his balls causing him to reflexively close his legs. The teen who kicked him there got a nasty look on his face and Harry cried anew. He thought he was ready for this because he figured the pain would be the same. He realized that he was just kidding himself. Harry was pretending to be brave because it was all he had, but realized now that it was false. Just a front his mind came up with to keep him from experiencing true terror. Harry screamed and scrambled back, now horrified.
It wasn't going to be the same. This was going to be something new each time and it was going to happen again and again. The kids laughed at his folly and an arm came around his neck, choking him. Two of the teens held his legs apart and the big one stepped up to him and took a pose as if he were going to kick a soccer ball. Then he felt his balls burst and he bit down on his tongue hard, almost separating it from his mouth. Harry choked and sputtered as his body jerked from another kick. He yelped pitifully and he cried again, watching blood flow from his shorts and be swept away by the rain.
After that, the boys went back to kicking and stomping. He heard them laughing and saw one of the boys grab a stick from near the woods and he knew it would soon be over. One boy grabbed his tongue, which was hanging out of his mouth and ripped it off. A stick was then shoved into his mouth and he then felt himself choking. The kids didn't realize that this was actively killing him and the one kept the stick lodged in his mouth as the others kicked and soon he felt his consciousness drifting away. His last thought was of the soon to be pain before he died.