AN: I forgot to mention this but this fic is a giant spoiler for the Ranma
½ series and up to the GOF.
It's My Life Now Chapter 2
Harry knew the second he saw his uncle that this summer was going to be hell. They had not forgotten what had happened with Dudley's tongue and the ton tongue toffee. All his uncle said to him was.
"Boy. Car. Now." And with those three words Harry knew he was now entering the ninth circle of hell.
It was bad enough that he was suffering survivor's guilt over the third task. He knew it was Voldemort that ordered Cedric's death but that did not make anything better. What had made things worse was that he knew that Dumbledore was keeping things from him, it would be one thing if he was a child, well he was kind of, but he wasn't. What kind of child has faced a dark lord four times and still live, he had nearly died four times, and he has seen his mother, father, and Cedric all murdered?
Now with those facts in mind, he was probably older mentally than many adults. If things keep going the way they do, he was going to die before he found out any family secrets that his parents wanted him to know. All because he is only a teenager and could not be trusted with secrets. Maybe after third year he was still a child but now, he feels like an old man who has seen too much.
As soon as he got home they took his trunk and burned it, it made quite a nice explosion considering the fact his potions ingredients were in there. Luckily because of the supposed Mad Eye Moody and year of dealing with Voldemort and the Dursleys he was expecting something like this and sent Hedwig off to Ron's and he hid his wand and invisibility cloak before the train had stopped. He was glad he did. And now for all of his efforts to try and live through everything he was now once more in the cupboard with a great many bruises and cuts all over. He was fairly sure that his wand hand was now broken in several places from where Dudley had sat on it, that his knee was either sprained or broken and that the cupboard had shrunk because it seemed much smaller than before.
Just before he drifted off to sleep his heard his uncle say loudly that he was going to be putting in a rock garden for his aunt. Harry's only though was 'Oh, god how am I going to make it.' And he drifted off into peaceful slumber.
NOT! He was now in Voldemort's new Headquarters. He saw as mudblood witches and wizards were brought in, he saw as they were tortured, and he saw the looks on their faces when Voldemort said to thank Harry Potter for bringing him back. The looks on their faces nearly broke him. Every time Voldemort cast something Harry felt the pain it was faint, but after each casting the pain became closer to the true pain and the visions became clearer.
Harry woke up the next day scar aching along with his injuries from the day before. He did not know how he was going to make it through the day. He was dragged out of his cupboard by his uncle and was given some water and burnt toast. Then he was tossed out into the yard limping the whole way. He was hauling stones around the yard all day with his knee and hand hurting more and more. The only thing that kept him going was that he knew what would happen to him if he stopped.
For some odd reason his aunt wanted a rock garden, and he was the one to do it. It would have been ok, almost, if she had a clue as to what she wanted. But no, she was changing her mind every 15 minutes. He had almost made it to diner when he stepped into a slight dent in the yard and fell. He felt his muscles in his knee rip and fire roar through his body and he nearly blacked out. Oh how he wished he had. When Uncle Vernon got to him he was being slapped and punched around like a dodge ball and he was tossed into his cupboard once again with the threat of what would happen to him if he ever dropped a rock again.
He felt fear and dread creep through him like a fog. With all of his injuries that he had now there was no way he could even stand much less pick up a rock. He was on the edge of depression when he felt a warm tingle run through him. It was his magic, he was healing himself. He felt the sharp sting as the bones in his hand snapped back in place, and the dull warm throb from his knee as is stitched itself back together. He felt the slash in his arm from where Wormtail took his blood heal. He felt the magic run through him and replenish the blood he lost and all of the bruises and lacerations heal up with only a slight scar to show what he had lived through. His scars were his memory, his life. Voldemort had seen to that with his lightning bolt scar and the slash on his arm, and so did Vernon from all of the abuse he had inflicted on him.
The relief Harry felt from the healing and the hope was taken away as he once again went to Voldemort. This vision was clearer than the last, he saw the muggles being tortured and he saw how Voldemort and his Deatheaters were making sarcastic toasts to the help of Harry Potter to the rebirth of their master. The pain was even more intense. It seemed that the clearer the dreams were the more pain he felt. By the end of the night he had felt the full Crucio on him more often than he cared to count. And the sickening detached feeling that came from Avada Kedavera left him with dry heaves every time. Finally the celebration had ceased for the night. And it had left Harry drained both physically and emotionally.
When Vernon came to see if Harry was still alive from the beating he was given yesterday he thought maybe he went too far after all if he couldn't move how could they get any work out of him? Lovely relatives Harry has doesn't he. But when Vernon saw that Harry was fine, completely healed from the previous beatings he was enraged and drug Harry through the cupboard shouting.
"You ungrateful brat! How dare you use that freakish stuff in my house! You will pay for that!"
And Harry did. Vernon was throwing everything from fists to pictures to furniture. Poor Harry just lie there taking it all too drained from the now pointless healing and the vision, he just could not conjure up enough energy to save himself. When he thought he saw someone through a haze just to the left of Vernon, who was now holding up a vase. Hope swelled up within Harry and had just enough energy to call for help he put his whole being, his soul, his magic, into that one call. This was his only chance to survive. Relief came over him as he passed out the last thing he heard was his savior calling out.
"DO NOT LAY A FINGER ON THAT CHILD IF YOU VALUE YOUR LIFE!"
AN: Come one come all and play the game name that mate. Review with your choice of relationship partner for Ranma and Harry. I accept any and all entries, I have a tendency towards unusual couplings. But remember I have a limit to weirdness and I have the final vote. Remember 47.5% of all statistics are made up on the spot. Sorry about the format, I have been trying to fix it.
It's My Life Now Chapter 2
Harry knew the second he saw his uncle that this summer was going to be hell. They had not forgotten what had happened with Dudley's tongue and the ton tongue toffee. All his uncle said to him was.
"Boy. Car. Now." And with those three words Harry knew he was now entering the ninth circle of hell.
It was bad enough that he was suffering survivor's guilt over the third task. He knew it was Voldemort that ordered Cedric's death but that did not make anything better. What had made things worse was that he knew that Dumbledore was keeping things from him, it would be one thing if he was a child, well he was kind of, but he wasn't. What kind of child has faced a dark lord four times and still live, he had nearly died four times, and he has seen his mother, father, and Cedric all murdered?
Now with those facts in mind, he was probably older mentally than many adults. If things keep going the way they do, he was going to die before he found out any family secrets that his parents wanted him to know. All because he is only a teenager and could not be trusted with secrets. Maybe after third year he was still a child but now, he feels like an old man who has seen too much.
As soon as he got home they took his trunk and burned it, it made quite a nice explosion considering the fact his potions ingredients were in there. Luckily because of the supposed Mad Eye Moody and year of dealing with Voldemort and the Dursleys he was expecting something like this and sent Hedwig off to Ron's and he hid his wand and invisibility cloak before the train had stopped. He was glad he did. And now for all of his efforts to try and live through everything he was now once more in the cupboard with a great many bruises and cuts all over. He was fairly sure that his wand hand was now broken in several places from where Dudley had sat on it, that his knee was either sprained or broken and that the cupboard had shrunk because it seemed much smaller than before.
Just before he drifted off to sleep his heard his uncle say loudly that he was going to be putting in a rock garden for his aunt. Harry's only though was 'Oh, god how am I going to make it.' And he drifted off into peaceful slumber.
NOT! He was now in Voldemort's new Headquarters. He saw as mudblood witches and wizards were brought in, he saw as they were tortured, and he saw the looks on their faces when Voldemort said to thank Harry Potter for bringing him back. The looks on their faces nearly broke him. Every time Voldemort cast something Harry felt the pain it was faint, but after each casting the pain became closer to the true pain and the visions became clearer.
Harry woke up the next day scar aching along with his injuries from the day before. He did not know how he was going to make it through the day. He was dragged out of his cupboard by his uncle and was given some water and burnt toast. Then he was tossed out into the yard limping the whole way. He was hauling stones around the yard all day with his knee and hand hurting more and more. The only thing that kept him going was that he knew what would happen to him if he stopped.
For some odd reason his aunt wanted a rock garden, and he was the one to do it. It would have been ok, almost, if she had a clue as to what she wanted. But no, she was changing her mind every 15 minutes. He had almost made it to diner when he stepped into a slight dent in the yard and fell. He felt his muscles in his knee rip and fire roar through his body and he nearly blacked out. Oh how he wished he had. When Uncle Vernon got to him he was being slapped and punched around like a dodge ball and he was tossed into his cupboard once again with the threat of what would happen to him if he ever dropped a rock again.
He felt fear and dread creep through him like a fog. With all of his injuries that he had now there was no way he could even stand much less pick up a rock. He was on the edge of depression when he felt a warm tingle run through him. It was his magic, he was healing himself. He felt the sharp sting as the bones in his hand snapped back in place, and the dull warm throb from his knee as is stitched itself back together. He felt the slash in his arm from where Wormtail took his blood heal. He felt the magic run through him and replenish the blood he lost and all of the bruises and lacerations heal up with only a slight scar to show what he had lived through. His scars were his memory, his life. Voldemort had seen to that with his lightning bolt scar and the slash on his arm, and so did Vernon from all of the abuse he had inflicted on him.
The relief Harry felt from the healing and the hope was taken away as he once again went to Voldemort. This vision was clearer than the last, he saw the muggles being tortured and he saw how Voldemort and his Deatheaters were making sarcastic toasts to the help of Harry Potter to the rebirth of their master. The pain was even more intense. It seemed that the clearer the dreams were the more pain he felt. By the end of the night he had felt the full Crucio on him more often than he cared to count. And the sickening detached feeling that came from Avada Kedavera left him with dry heaves every time. Finally the celebration had ceased for the night. And it had left Harry drained both physically and emotionally.
When Vernon came to see if Harry was still alive from the beating he was given yesterday he thought maybe he went too far after all if he couldn't move how could they get any work out of him? Lovely relatives Harry has doesn't he. But when Vernon saw that Harry was fine, completely healed from the previous beatings he was enraged and drug Harry through the cupboard shouting.
"You ungrateful brat! How dare you use that freakish stuff in my house! You will pay for that!"
And Harry did. Vernon was throwing everything from fists to pictures to furniture. Poor Harry just lie there taking it all too drained from the now pointless healing and the vision, he just could not conjure up enough energy to save himself. When he thought he saw someone through a haze just to the left of Vernon, who was now holding up a vase. Hope swelled up within Harry and had just enough energy to call for help he put his whole being, his soul, his magic, into that one call. This was his only chance to survive. Relief came over him as he passed out the last thing he heard was his savior calling out.
"DO NOT LAY A FINGER ON THAT CHILD IF YOU VALUE YOUR LIFE!"
AN: Come one come all and play the game name that mate. Review with your choice of relationship partner for Ranma and Harry. I accept any and all entries, I have a tendency towards unusual couplings. But remember I have a limit to weirdness and I have the final vote. Remember 47.5% of all statistics are made up on the spot. Sorry about the format, I have been trying to fix it.
