Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

Chapter One

The signs of his power will show until the time of truth comes.

- Order of the Phoenix, Phoenix Chronicles, Part IV

Harry Potter gazed out his window and sighed.  He was exhausted, but staying awake was better than facing his dreams.  They were nightmares.  Nightmares where he watched Cedric die and Voldemort rise.  Nightmares where he faced Cedric and tried to apologize, but Cedric just turned away in disgust.  Without his friends nearby, his fears and guilt consumed him unhindered.  The fact that the Dursley's were worse this summer didn't help matters.  His nightmares didn't always sprout from the Third Task.  He had nightmares of what had occurred his first night back for the summer and several times afterwards.

*Flashback*

Harry got off the train, having given his gift to Fred and George.  After saying his goodbyes and being profusely thanked by the twins, he was forced to wait for his Uncle Vernon.

Ron left, as did Hermione.  Soon, the station was empty of any students, and night fell on a very worried Harry.  Finally, at nine o'clock, Uncle Vernon drove up in last year's car.  Harry blinked; Uncle Vernon usually got a new car every year.  But he brushed it off, too happy over the fact that he wasn't abandoned to care.

By the end of the night, he would wish that he truly had been abandoned.

Uncle Vernon staggered out of the car.  "Get in… you…" he muttered thickly.  Harry stared in shock; was he drunk?!  "I said, get IN!" he growled.

Before Harry could move, Uncle Vernon seized Harry (who was holding Hedwig) by the scruff of the neck and threw him into the car.  He then tossed Harry's trunk on top of him – suffocating Harry incidentally – slammed the door, and got back into the driver's seat.  Harry lay gasping for breath, unable to remove the trunk's weight, until they reached home.  Uncle Vernon practically tore open the front door and pulled Harry out by his hair and into the house.  Hedwig was forgotten in the car with his trunk.  Once they were inside, Uncle Vernon threw Harry into the living room.

"What's wrong?" gasped Harry, still in shock at this odd behavior, "what did I do?"

"DO?" thundered Uncle Vernon, "You and your kind killed Marge!  You cursed my business, and YOU are why Dudley was expelled!  I'm going to kill you!"

Harry gazed numbly up at him.  Marge was dead?  The Death Eaters had probably attacked her village.  But as for the rest of it…

"I'm not allowed to curse Muggles, you know that."  Uncle Vernon just bellowed more insults before kicking Harry in the gut.  "GET UP!" he roared.  Unfortunately, Harry was unable to oblige due to his sudden loss of oxygen.  "I SAID GET UP!" Uncle Vernon bent down, seized Harry by the collar, and began pummeling the boy mercilessly.  Of course, it was nothing when compared to the Cruciatus, but it still hurt.  By the time his uncle sat back, panting, Harry was bleeding and bruised all over.  He also had a slight concussion from a lamp (table lamp, luckily) to the head.

When Aunt Petunia came down to clean the next morning, she found Harry on the floor, unconscious and bloody, and shoved him with the toe of her shoe into wakefulness.  He moaned.  Entirely unsympathetic, Aunt Petunia shrieked, "Get up and clean this mess!  Then you can do the back garden.  I don't want the neighbors to even smell you this summer!  Get up, you ungrateful, lazy little…"

And that was how his summer went.

*End Flashback*

Harry sighed again.  He now bore even more scars from his relation's rough treatment.

Dudley, formerly terrified of Harry and bigger than ever from the diet being revoked, had pushed him down the stairs two weeks into summer.  Aunt Petunia just worked him till he dropped, slapped him, and screeched over how worthless he was.  She was actually stunned into silence when she found him nodding in agreement with her once.

Harry now had a broken hand and a broken ankle.  Several of his ribs were broken, bruises sprouted everywhere, he sported numerous cuts and a few burns, sprained a wrist, was starving, and suffered from insomnia.  He felt like crap with a capital C.

He had written to his friends, but didn't relate what was occurring – he hadn't ever told them before, so why start now?  Instead, he made up funny stories about a scared Vernon and a subdued Petunia and Dudley.  He didn't want to tell them the truth – that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived was beaten and treated like the Malfoy's house-elf.

Yesterday had been his birthday, and the day Vernon broke his hand.

The gifts from his friends were enough to cheer him up a bit; especially with the added news that Sirius was safe somewhere.

The presents were great.  Ron gave him a new watch, which was similar to the clock in the Weasely's house, only this one told where Ron and Hermione were at all times, and he could add a name at will.  In his card, Ron said he had had one made for himself and would give another to Hermione on her birthday.  Sirius had sent him a book on Animagus's of the past, and Hermione had Hedwig deliver him a book on great Quidditch teams of the 20th century.  Unfortunately, Hagrid had owled him earlier in the summer that he needed to keep mail silence, and would give him his gifts when Harry returned to Hogwarts.  Despite the lack of food, Harry had actually slept well that night.

He checked the clock.  It was nearly midnight, and Vernon still wasn't home.  Harry figured he could try to sleep – he really did need the rest, he' d practiced Quidditch under the Invisibility Cloak from ten to twelve each night that summer – Uncle Vernon was probably working late anyway.  Harry climbed into bed and dreamt of yesterday – his birthday.

*Dream Sequence*

Harry was ten minutes late with the Dursley's breakfast because he had such a rough time with his newly broken ankle; which was not in a cast.

"BOY!  Get in here NOW!" roared Vernon's voice.  Harry winced – he'd tripped and hit his ankle against the wall (the ankle was courtesy of Dudley and a very hard wooden chair) – and replied hurriedly.

"Sorry, sorry, I'll be there in a minute."

"Well hurry it up then," snapped Petunia.  Dudley started whining.

"Mum, I want a doughnut; make Harry get me one."  All summer Harry's porky cousin had been thinking up stupid and utterly pointless things for him to do, and food was usually involved.  The Dursley's were paying extra for a special tailor to fit things to Dudley's huge frame, and he took advantage of it to the fullest.

"Where are you?" Vernon grumped again.  "Can't even come downstairs at a decent time, boy?  You are so lazy.  Must've learned it from those filthy excuses for people you associate with…" his voice slurred slightly, and Harry realized Vernon was drunk this morning.  He took a deep breath and hopped into the kitchen.  He quickly made breakfast and fetched the fore-mentioned doughnut, but soon discovered a dilemma.  He couldn't hop with food in his hands.  Dudley, in a spurt of brilliance, also spotted this, and grinned cruelly.

"C'mon Harry, bring us breakfast already."  Harry tried to slide along the counter, but Dudley's comment attracted Vernon's attention, and he snapped, "Can't you even walk like a normal person?" and Harry flinched from the alcohol-induced glare in his eyes.  Firmly grasping the two plates, he took a tentative step on his bad foot.

Concentrating furiously past the tears of pain that ran down his face, Harry ignored Dudley's expression of obvious delight and managed the first trip.

But he had no sooner begun the second when Dudley's foot kicked his hip hard.  Unbalanced, his leg collapsed as both he and the food crashed to the floor.

"BOY!" roared Vernon.  Jumping up, his uncle, stamped Harry's hand into the glass shards, breaking the bones instantly.  He seized Dudley's old Smelting stick and advanced on the terrified boy…

*End Dream Sequence*

"BOY!"

Harry moaned at the remembrance – or was it?  He heard the front door slam and Vernon thunder in.  Harry cursed, and shoved Hedwig outside.  He refused to allow her to be present during the beatings because he was scared Vernon would kill her.  Hedwig screeched from outside as he locked the window.  She stayed to watch, indignant at being shoved, and confused with Harry's recent behavior.

Vernon reached the top of the stairs and stumbled over to Harry's room.  He shoved open the door and stood glaring malevolently at the boy.

"You ruined Grunnings!  D'you know what I've just heard?  That if our ratings don't improve in 3 months we'll have to shut down!  And it's ALL YOUR FAULT!" he leaped at Harry, dragged the frozen boy to the floor, and began pummeling him.

***

Hedwig's big eyes widened even further in astonishment and outrage.  He was beating her master!  She began pecking at the window, but fortunately for her Vernon was too occupied with Harry to notice.

***

None of the other beatings had ever been as bad as this.  Harry groaned on the floor, already suffering another concussion from being beaten with his bedroom's stand lamp.  Vernon was gone.  Harry began to try to dizzily rise when Vernon suddenly reappeared in the doorway, smiling.  But there was only one thing Harry had eyes for.

The knife in Vernon's hand.

Weakly, Harry began to crawl backwards, shaking his head at Vernon and fixing his gaze on the knife, wishing desperately he had never stuck his wand in his trunk after getting off the train.  Vernon had taken full advantage of that weakness and locked Harry's things in the cupboard before nailing the door shut.  Now Harry was wandless and at the mercy of an angry maniac.

***

Vernon stepped in softly.  He knew what he was going to do.  He was going to kill the boy after he suffered as much as Vernon and his family had.

The boy was backing away.  Vernon felt a weird mix of glee and fury as he advanced, grabbed the boy by the arm, hauled him up, and put the knife to Harry's throat.