Notes:
Please read through the warning, if any of these are what you are not comfortable;
hit the back button and find something else to read!
WARNING:
Female Harry. Suicide thought/attempt (chapter 1), attempted rape/non-con, abuse, molestation/sexual assault (several chapters). Student/Teacher relationship, 20 years age difference relationship. There will be sexual contents (with consents - around chapter 11 or 12 and after).
If you don't like to read a female Harry story - bugger off. I mean, seriously, just find another story to read. This story is written for me primarily, and I'm just sharing it.
"Harry! Get in here and finish the breakfast!" A shrill voice roused a young girl from her sleep. Harry sat up from her threadbare bed and rubbed her face. She dragged her feet onto the floor and looked up to see her white owl looking down at her, blinking her large golden eyes at her. "Harry!" The voice was closer, and she grimaced.
"Coming, Aunt Petunia," Harry replied, glancing over to the clock and noted it was almost six in the morning. She got up, pulled on a gray sweater over her thin body, and ran her fingers in her long black hair, quickly braiding it. Maybe she can finish the chores quickly this morning, slip out of the house, and find somewhere to hide and get a nap. She had not slept very well, and her dream was full of nightmares from the Riddle graveyard and Cedric dying. She quickly glanced in the mirror and scowled; she looked pale, dark circle under her eyes, and too thin. She still looked like she was the first year, not going on fifteen. She whispered to her reflection, "How can they expect their savior to be a little girl who looks like a wraith?" She shook her head, went downstairs, and helped her Aunt in the kitchen.
Life at the Dursleys was never easy. It had steadily gotten worse each summer since she started at Hogwarts. They stuck her in the cupboard under the stairs from when she was very young to twelve years old. She learned to cook and clean at the young age of three and always had been given hand-me-down clothes from her cousin Dudley. She was never able to fit in his clothes. Aunt Petunia had always kept her hair cut short, in a ragged, messy hairstyle. She wore round spectacles that were too large for her thin face.
For the longest time growing up, she had thought her name was 'kid' until she started primary school and learned that her name was Harriet. But it was too hard for her fellow classmates to pronounce her name, so she ended up with 'Harry' instead. Everyone had always assumed she was a boy, with hand-me-down clothes, short hair, and an unclean appearance. She never owned a dress or even a doll. All she had was a broken figure of a Grecian god she found in the dumpster and an old book that her teacher secretly gave her in primary school one Christmas.
When she started Hogwarts, her life had changed, and she found out she was a witch. She was so happy to be part of the world where her parents came from. From there, she was able to own her first dress, buy jewelry, and even wear some make-up. She had her hair grown out to her waist-length, and she loved it. When she came home after her first year, she learned that her guardians didn't like it that she looked like a girl, attempted to cut her hair short. Her accidental magic made her hair grow back to her waist, and it was then Petunia decided to leave her hair alone.
Breakfast was uneventful. Uncle Vernon had ambled downstairs, going on about his job and whatever was in the news, sniping and complaining. Aunt Petunia cooed and smothered both her husband and son. Dudley was taller, bigger, and meaner. He kicked Harry while she was on her knees cleaning the floor when he finished his breakfast and left to hang out with his friends. She ignored the blooming pain in her side and knew she would have a large purple coloring on her ribs later. Dudley's kicks and punches were heavier as well. When Vernon left for work, Petunia handed Harry a list of chores to do and said she would be gone most of the day and that Harry is not to steal food or anything from the house, or else she would regret it.
Harry simply remained quiet and bowed her head as she cleaned the floor. Once she was alone, she quickly looked over the list and saw it was useless to do the chores since she had finished them the day before. Petunia wanted her to constantly clean the house. She did quick work, straightening the house and doing minimal work. In Harry's opinion, petunia could not tell the difference; the house was freakingly clean. She dug into the trash and pulled out the leftovers from dinner the night before, and breakfast ate quickly. Petunia always kept count of the food in the cupboard or fridge, and if the count was off, she would get belt lashing from Uncle Vernon. Then she took a shower and dressed in clothes that once belonged to a seven-year-old Dudley. It was pretty much the only thing that could fit her without making her look lost. The gray shirt was slightly loose on her, and the jeans only needed to be pinned on the side so it would not fall down. She rolled the cuff to make it look more like capri pants.
She would not dare to use the clothes that she received from Hermione or Ginny. She had a lovely dress she got from Hermione during her first year, and Aunt Petunia discovered that Harry had nicer clothes and shrilly demanded to hand them over. Harry had watched in horror as she cut them up and threw them in the fire, saying she did not deserve nicer clothes. So she stopped bringing whatever she had received during the terms at Hogwarts, only her school books, album, cloak, and album in her trunks. Everything else went with Hermione and Ginny.
She hurried out of the house and sighed in relief at her brief freedom for a couple of hours. She made her way down to the park. The sun was hot, beating down on her head, and she smiled at the sky. Lately, she has been cold with the depressing nightmares in her dreams; her room was dark and dank. She welcomed the scorching heat of the summer and found the tree she had discovered in her third year; it had a large hole in the trunk where she could fit and hide. She climbed up the tree and crawled in the large hole that was just big enough for her to curl up. She sighed, watching several children play in the playground under the watchful eyes of their caring mothers. She wondered what it would be like if her parents were alive. Her mother would have doted on her, dressed her up in pretty dresses, and brushed her long hair. Her father would have taught her different quidditch tricks pranks to play on her friends. She smiled at the wistful dreams of what could've been.
She slept for a while in the tree undisturbed and roused as she heard a mother calling to her children it was time to go home for dinner. She looked out of the hole and noted it was late in the afternoon, and the storm was beginning to brew above. She climbed out of the tree and slipped down to the grass. Not wanting to get caught in the rain, she hurried across the park.
"Hey!" Harry stopped and looked up to see Dudley and his friends approach her, grinning maliciously at her. She shrank slightly and held her ground. Dudley easily was three times her size, and his friends weren't any better. She had managed to avoid them successfully most of the summer. Despite her Gryffindor bravado and what she has gone through in the past four years at Hogwarts, facing down Voldemort several times, mountain trolls, three-heads dog, werewolves, dragons, merpeople, and annoying blond git. It was Dudley and Vernon that scared her the most, after Dementors.
One of his lackey on his left leered at her, "She's becoming a looker. A bit thin." The others laughed. "Ugly duckling become a swan," He mocked. Harry knew she was not exactly a looker, being too thin and scraggy.
Harry's eyes darted between Dudley's friends, biting her cheeks to keep the retort back. She knew she could not back up; the way out of the playground was behind Dudley. The fence around the playground was too high for her to climb. Cursing her decision to pick the park to spend her free time.
Dudley laughed and mocked, "Bet she's spoiled. Moaning in her pillow, crying out for her boyfriend. Cedric, innit?" He laughed along with his goons, and then his face grew dark, "Killed him, didn't ya? Crying out 'Don't kill Cedric.'"
Harry glared at him, "Shut up."
"Ooh, 'he's going to kill me, mum!' Where's your mum, Potter? She's dead?" Dudley kept going. His friends started to circle her. Two of them grabbed her arms, and she trashed, trying to kick them and tug her arms free. Dudley smirked, "Come on, this way." He gestured to the tunnel near the park. The sky started to darken, thunders were rolling in the distance. Harry whimpered as they dragged her toward the tunnel. She knew everyone had gone home, and there were no witnesses. She would scream all she wanted, but they would not hear her. Dudley had promised her the previous summer that his friends wanted a go with her. He wasn't shy in cropping a feel when no one looked in the past couple of years. She hated it when he would do that and tried to go out of her way to avoid him.
They outnumbered her five to one and probably a thousand pounds between five hulking teen boys over her slight frame of 5 foot two and barely a hundred pounds. She was sorely underweight for her height.
Her eyes widened as Dudley grinned and leaned back against the wall of the walkway tunnel. She was held between two of his friends as one of them groped her, laughing and jeering at her. She trashed and tried vainly to break free, wondering why her accidental magic wasn't saving her. Coldness and dread crept, and she gasped, trying to breathe.
"No, please!" She cried weakly as one of them pulled her shirt up and pawed her small breast over her white cotton bra. The other one pulled at her jean, breaking the button free, and started to drag her pants down. Tears were falling down her face.
Dudley scoffed, "Harry, give it up. You're not worth anything. No one will help you. They've been wanting a go with you. You're a filthy little whore."
Harry shook her head and yelped as one of them grabbed her braid and pulled her head back. She gasped as the boy behind her groped around her hips and started to dig into her underwear. She thrashed violently.
"Feisty one, ain't she?" The one groping her breasts laughed and smacked her face hard. "Shut up, it'll be over sooner if you're good girl. It won't hurt much."
She inhaled, struggling to make her throat work to scream. Then all of a sudden, the boys froze, looking about as the tunnel grew quiet and colder than a meat locker. Harry's eyes widened as she recognized the dread that grew from the base of her spine and shivered. The air grew ominous.
Dudley frowned and stood straighter, "Bloody hell was that?" He looked around; he looked back to Harry, "You know what's happening?"
The lights in the tunnel flickered and went out with loud echoing pops one by one. Dudley's friends let go of Harry, and she collapsed to the floor, grasping her clothes to right them. She stood and felt around her back pocket, sighing in relief as the wand she had tucked in her pocket was intact.
"I'm out of here. This is creepy!" One of the boys muttered and ran. The other three gave each other a horrified look and scrambled after the first one.
"Sorry Dudders! I'm out of here!"
Dudley scowled and grabbed Harry by her collar, dragging her up to her feet. "What did you do?" He screamed. "You're not doing your freaky magic, aren't you?"
Harry shook her head, "No. It wasn't me, but we gotta get out of here." She bit back a scream as she looked up to see a ghostly black figure materialize through the ceiling of the tunnel. She looked to the side and saw several more darting toward them into the tunnel from outside.
Dudley yelped as the one from the ceiling grabbed him and held him several feet off the ground; his breath rattled horribly as it attempted to breathe in his life.
Harry, having been released, fell back down to the ground. She shakingly pulled her wand free and held it up. She backed up into the wall and tried to think of a happy thought. It was difficult when she was put through a traumatizing experience not a few minutes before. Whimpering as she tried to remember anything that made her happy. She shivered; it was so cold, desolate, and dark. She could hear the scream of her parents, becoming disoriented. The Dementors were bearing down on her, and she looked up to Dudley, feeling spiteful of him. He was going to let her get raped by his friends. She very much wanted to leave him and let him get kissed out of retaliation.
"Harry, you must!" A voice in the darkness drew her out, and she gasped, looking over to see a frail woman in the head of the tunnel. Mrs. Figgs. No, she can't let the Dementors get to her. "Think happy thoughts!" Mrs. Figgs called out to her.
Harry nodded weakly and held up her wand, thoughts of flying on her broomstick, thoughts of her godfather and her friends. The dark black eyes thrilled her secretly when she caught the tiny smile on the thin lips. Her favorite story of the underworld king and the spring maiden. Yes. "Expecto Patronum!" She shouted, and her wand glowed brilliant white and the massive ghostly stag leapt, chasing the Dementors away.
Dudley fell to the floor, pale and shaken, almost comatose. Mrs. Figgs hurried over to check on him. Harry stood up shakily like a newborn foal and stepped toward the old woman who often babysat her. Surprised that the woman knew about the Dementors. She wanted to ask, but Mrs. Figgs shot her a look and gestured to Dudley, "Let's get him up; you must go home."
Harry looked down, crouched beside her cousin's head, and smacked his meaty cheek. "Hey, Big D. Wake up." The teen boy blearily looked up at her, spaced out. "Get up, fatso." She muttered as she and Mrs. Figgs strained to help the boy up. They walked him out; he leaned heavily on Harry and the old woman.
Mrs. Figgs told Harry, "Don't put your wand away, they might come back." She looked up to the darkened sky. Harry was surprised that the sun had gone down. "Dementors in Little Whinging, whatever next? Whole world's gone topsy-turvey."
"I don't understand. How do you know?" Harry asked.
Mrs. Figgs gave Harry a knowing look. "Dumbledore asked me to keep an eye on you."
Harry's eyes widened, "Dumbledore?" She asked. "You know Dumbledore?"
Mrs. Figgs shook her head, "After You-Know-Who killed that poor Diggory boy last year. Did you expect him to let you go wandering on your own? Love, they told me you were intelligent and strong. Now," They reached Privet Drive #4, "get inside and stay there. Expect someone will be in touch soon. Whatever happens, don't leave the house." Mrs. Figgs ambled down the sidewalk and over to her house across the street.
Harry pushed Dudley inside, not caring that he bumped into the doorframe or the wall on the way in. She shoved him into the living room, where Aunt Petunia leaped up from the couch to grab her son.
"Diddykins? Duddy! Vernon, come quick." Petunia gasped as she noticed the pale appearance of her son with a blank look in his eyes. She shot an accusing look at Harry.
Vernon stomped in and saw the condition of his son and rounded onto Harry, growling, "Happy now? You've finally done it. You've finally driven him loopy!"
Harry stepped back against the wall, still shaking hands and weak knees.
"Vernon! We have to take him to the hospital!" Petunia screeched, pulling Dudley up from the chair and pushing him toward the door.
Vernon's face slowly became purple with rage, and he raised his hand to strike Harry. A red envelope appeared in between them. Harry didn't know if she was grateful for the Howler or afraid of it. It opened its mouth, and a woman's voice came through, "Dear Miss Potter, the Ministry has received intelligence that at 6:23 this evening you performed the Patronus Charm in the presence of a Muggle. As a clear violation of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, you are hereby expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Hoping you are well, Mafalda Hopkirk."
Harry paled at the envelope. The thought of never returning to Hogwarts. Having to stay with the Dursley and put up with their increasing abuse, Dudley's molestation, and potential rape from his friends. She winced as Vernon looked gleeful as he grabbed her arm in a bruising grip.
"Justice!" He shouted, spittle flying from his lips. He wrenched her into the hallway, up the stairs, shoving her into her small bedroom, and slammed the door shut.
Harry fell onto her bed as she listened to the locks clacks in places. She bit back the whimper that was threatening to rise in her throat as she stared at the door. She heard Vernon and Petunia help Dudley out of the house, and the front door closed. The car pulled out of the driveway, and then everything became silent in the house.
Hedwig hooted softly, breaking Harry out of her shocked stupor. She blinked and looked over to her snowy owl. "Sorry, Hedwig." She got up and reached out, running her fingers through her familiar's feathers. Hedwig turned her head and butted her hand, silently asking for more petting. Harry watched as her shaky hand ran through the owl's pure white feather. Her hand looked scraped dirty, and there were blotches of dried-up blood. She frowned, trying to recall where the blood came from. She reached up to her face with her other hand and felt her lip.
Then the floodgate of her memory from the evening came crashing through. She cried out and fell to her knees, shaking as she clutched her head, recalling every single horrifying moment. Realization hit her that she was nearly raped and nearly kissed by the Dementors and expelled from Hogwarts. She closed her eyes as the emotions of despair overwhelmed her in heavy waves. She shakingly stood up and went over to her desk and stared at the grainy wood, wondering what she should do now.
The house was silent. They wouldn't be coming for her. She was alone. She could not send Hedwig out for help. Her window was barred. She was locked in her room, perhaps left to be forgotten for the rest of the summer. It was still weeks until she could go to the Burrow.
Something glinted in the corner of her eyes; she turned her head and spied a broken glass. She reached out and picked it up; it was a piece of glass that fell out from the broken mirror. She remembered the piece that came from the beginning of the summer when Dudley cornered her in her room, slamming her up the wall; her head had cracked against the mirror, cracking it. He had hovered over her, threatening her, and leered at her, saying she had grown since the previous summer. That his friends were asking him about her. She remembered the sharpness of pain from her head.
She looked up at the mirror hanging on the wall, seeing her ghostly feature. She looked horrible, her hair out of place, her face had a swelling bruise from the slap earlier. Her lip had been cut, and there was dried blood smearing down her chin. Her shirt was torn, and her pants were barely hanging on her too-thin hips. She could see she was shaking violently.
"How can they expect you to save them when you can't save yourself?" She asked quietly. "I'm better off gone. I can't do this. I can't." Tears streaked down her face. She held the glass shard in her hand, held it up with her right hand, and pressed it against her left inner arm. The sharp point dug into her pale skin. She watched as a tiny red dot bloomed from the tip. "I'll never be free." She whispered, tears rolling down her face.
She gasped as she heard the sound of thumping feet, crash, and muttering outside her door.
"Very clean, these muggles." A light voice said.
There was another clatter and a feminine giggle. A rough voice said, "Tonks, for God's sake."
"Unnatural." The deep voice said, and there was clinky noise at her door. Harry dropped her glass and shoved it under the drawer with her toe. She grabbed a dirty shirt off her bed and hastily scrubbed her face to remove most of the dried blood. She brushed her hair down and stood back against her desk, her eyes wide as she watched the door glow before it opened to reveal three people in her doorway. Familiar scarred face of Professor Moody, a pretty woman with bright pink hair and a dark-skinned man in a deep purple robe.
"Professor Moody," Harry said, surprised. "What are you doing here?"
The ex-Auror replied, "Rescuing you, of course."
Harry tilted her head, "But where are we going? The letter said I've been expelled."
"You haven't been. Not yet." Moody grumbled and waved his wand, collecting Harry's things in her room and directing them to the trunk. She watched as he shrank the trunk down and pocketed it. She nodded dumbly as she followed the three down the stairs and outside the house.
"Kingsley, you take point." Moody directed the dark-skinned man.
"But the letter said," Harry started as she glanced at the other people standing outside.
Moody held out a hand, and a strange-looking broom snapped into his hand. Harry saw a broom coming her way and grabbed it. "Dumbledore persuaded the minister to suspense your expulsion, pending a formal hearing."
"A hearing?" Harry asked.
"Don't worry. We'll explain everything when we get back to headquarters." The woman with pink hair said cheerfully as she mounted her broom.
Moody growled, "Not here, Nymphadora."
Harry watched in fascination as the woman's hair turned from pink to red as she glowered at the scraggly ex-Auror. "Do. Not. Call. Me. Nymphadora!" She snapped at him.
Moody grunted, "Stay in formation, everyone. Don't break ranks if one of us is killed." He leaned back on his broomstick and shot to the sky. Harry watched as the woman, Nymphadora, followed. Kingsley nodded to Harry, and she pulled her broom up, going after the two, and looked over her shoulder to see the others following. She sighed, feeling the cool wind of the night brush against her face. She realized it was soothing the stinging pain that she had been ignoring for most of the night on her face. Her hair whipped behind her like an inky black streamer.
She followed the group across the sky in the darkness. It felt as if every bit of the day event peeled off her skin as she flew, falling behind her forgotten. She flew in the sky, enjoying the feel of the whipping wind in her face, numbing her skin.
After what seemed like hours, they descended in a suburban in London. Professor Moody's rough voice shook her out of her thoughts as he ushered them in the street. "Come on, you, around the corner." She followed him and stood before brick townhomes. She looked up and noticed that the numbers on the left were 11 and the right were 13. A paper was shoved into her face, and she took it. She read the letter, "Number Twelve Grimmauld Place." She blinked and watched in astonishment as the two townhomes rumbled and split, revealing number 12 in the middle. The townhome's bricks looked darker, older, and dirty than those on the sides.
"Come on, in you go, child." Moody muttered as he gently prodded Harry toward the front door. Harry winced as her shoulder stung, realizing the pain was from being wrenched around from Dudley's goons and her uncle earlier. She bit back a grimace and followed the others in the house.
Harry glanced around the dark, dank hallway of the house; the smell was musty and old. She spotted several people in the dining room at the end of the hallway. Tonks, the woman who preferred to be called Kingsley, and Moody moved around Harry and entered the dining room. Molly looked up and ambled out, collecting Harry into a smothering hug, "Harry."
Harry felt weary all of a sudden, "Mrs. Weasley." She looked up as the woman gasped, taking her face in her hands, inspecting the bruises and cuts. She pried the warm hands from her face and shook her head. "If you don't mind, I'd like to take a shower and go to bed. I am very tired."
"But Harry! Your face!" Mrs. Weasley protested. "What happened?"
Harry shook her head, "I fell. Had run in with Dementors tonight. Please," She begged quietly, looking away from the mother of the Weasley clan.
The woman sighed and nodded, "Go on then, second floor up the stairs. The others are up there. There is a healing salve in the bathroom cabinet."
"Thank you." Harry turned and found the stairs to the side and walked up slowly, her body screaming in pain. She felt nauseous and disoriented. All she wanted was to get clean, find a bed to fall into, and sleep away the rest of the summer. She paused as she saw a strange old house-elf mumbling to himself, wiping the beheaded elves on the wall. He was muttering derogatory names, but Harry didn't care. She continued up the stairs and found herself surrounded by Hermione and Ron, hugging her. She looked up at them and smiled wearily. They opened their mouths to ask, but she held up her hands. "Guys, please. Just let me get a shower and be in bed. Not now, I can't."
Hermione bit her lip and nodded, shooing Ron away. "Come on, Harry. I got some of your clothes." She gently pulled Harry toward a door. "Go on in, I'll bring your clothes."
Harry nodded gratefully to her best friend and went into the bathroom. She stripped down and winced as she saw her reflection in the mirror; ugly bruises began to form on her body. She turned away and turned on the water as hottest as she could stand and looked into the cabinet and found the healing salve. She stepped in the shower and washed. She applied the healing salve gingerly on her body. She could hear Hermione slip into the bathroom and back out, knowing the girl was smart enough to give her space. She turned off the water and stepped out, finding a towel and her nightclothes. She dried off and dressed, made a quick work of her hair, and stepped out into the hallway; she found Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and the twins standing in the hallway.
"Hey guys." She greeted them quietly, "If you can wait until tomorrow, I had a long day. I'd like to sleep, please." She said.
Hermione stepped up and took Harry's hand. "You're with Ginny and me. Come on. I'll tell Mrs. Weasley to save you a plate." She led Harry into a bedroom and showed her where she was to sleep. Harry gratefully nodded and looked around.
"My trunk?" She asked, and Ginny gestured to the trunk at the end of the bed. Harry went over to it and opened it. She dug around in the trunk, and she sighed in relief as she found a tiny figure of the Grecian god in black robes. She closed her hand around it, found the old dog-eared book, and took it out. She went to the end table beside her bed and placed the book down, and climbed into the bed. Clutching her fist to her chest, as soon her head hit the pillow, she was gone.
Ron stood in the doorway, whispering as he watched Harry fall asleep. "She's all right?"
Hermione looked on worriedly. "No. I don't think so. She's thinner than before. The bruises on her, it's bad this year. It's not like before."
"Blimey. Think Dumbledore would finally not let her go back to the Dursley next summer?"
The twins peered over Ron's shoulders, "Harry's going to want to know what's going on in the meeting. Come on, let's try to listen in."
Hermione, Ginny, and Ron followed the twins out of the room, closing the door behind them, to let Harry sleep.
Notes:
This story is also posted on AO3 too. It will be posted on Wattpad once it's complete.
I've wanted to write a story with Hades/Persephone theme with Severus as Hades. But I wasn't sure who to portray as Persephone. Then out of sheer frustration and stress from my job and grad school, an idea came to me and I decided to give it a try. I hope you enjoy it. I'd love to hear your feedbacks. Warning for the chapter will always be in the beginning of the chapter. This chapter will only consist attempted rape and suicide, for it will not be in the rest of the story.