Summary: Harry's going to die. How you ask me? Anyway he can! A collection of Dark Death stories in which Death is finally getting even and you'll find out that there are many gruesome ways to die if you're Harry Potter. Not even his luck can save him this time.
A/N: A wonderful 2004 everyone!!
There is a custom in some parts in the Netherlands on which this fic is based. Namely the burning of the Christmas tree on New Years Eve. Now, I don't know if they do that in England, I didn't think so, but lets ignore that for now, shall we.
At Death's DoorPart 7: The Dursleys (Happy New Year)
Rated: R
Warnings: Abuse, some gore and weird customs.
As always, the Dursley family had a wonderful Christmas holiday. Dudley had come home for the two weeks and the three of them had a magnificent Christmas dinner together. And now, a few days later, they were a few hours away from the New Year.
There was only one thing different this year, one thing that hadn't happened for five Christmases now. The freak had come back from that school of his.
Harry was having the worst Christmas holiday in his life, well maybe not his life, but at least the last five years. Because of the strengthening of the wards at Hogwarts no student had been able to stay these two weeks. He had begged and pleaded with Dumbledore to not send him back to the Dursleys, but the old headmaster hadn't wanted to make an exception for him.
To say that his 'family' had not been happy with his surprise return was putting it mildly. The first thing Vernon had done was throw his trunk in the shed, harshly search him for any magical objects on his person and manhandle him into his old cupboard under the stairs. They hadn't let him out since and because his uncle had taken his wand, he couldn't even open the locks to get some help.
So here he was, ignored, forgotten and back in his cupboard, which of course seemed much smaller than when he had been ten. The small cot, which had served as his bed for almost his entire childhood, had still been there and there was now a bucket in the corner for him to relieve himself in. Strangely enough they hadn't even let him out to clean the damn thing, no Petunia had done it herself. Apparently they were so scared of him they didn't even open the door to feed him, or to give him some water.
Harry didn't know how long he had been there, but at least it couldn't be longer than two weeks, otherwise people would come looking for him. He had stopped trying to count the days after Christmas, which he had only recognized from the smells and sounds from the living room, because after that he started feeling too sick and weak from the lack of nourishment and could've easily slept through a few days.
It wasn't until new years eve that he knew what day it was, but this time it wasn't because of the smells and sounds. No this time he knew because a drunken Vernon threw open the door and shouted 'Happy new year' at him.
Suddenly a fist came flying at him and struck his cheekbone. Harry felt rather than heard the loud crack and cried out in pain. He held his hand against the side of his face and tried to scuttle backwards, away from the red-faced brute, but of course there wasn't any room to do so. Laughing his uncle grabbed his neck and pulled him out of the darkness, where the young wizard had spend most of life, and slammed him against a wall. Harry could barely even lift his arms, let alone struggle usefully, so he let his limbs hang loose and waited for what was to come.
In his mind Harry was cursing his own weakness, the Dursleys had followed a successful strategy this time. Because of the starving, isolation and constant dark, he was neither in the mental nor physical state to defend himself. He couldn't even raise the energy to get angry enough for wandless magic, like in the summer before his third year.
"Boy, we decided to make a fresh start for this year and guess what, you're going to be a big part of it."
Harry drew in a shaky breath as the hand around his throat became a little less constricting, which was a good thing because there were already black spots dancing in front of his eyes. But just as his thoughts were becoming a little less foggy, he was grabbed by his hair and painfully dragged outside through the living room, the kitchen and the backdoor. He tried to grab his uncle's hand to make it let go, but it was of no use.
Once in the backyard, which was surrounded by large hedges to shield it from prying eyes, Harry noticed that his aunt and cousin seemed busy carrying stuff outside from the shed and were piling it up. Vernon dragged him closer and let him go, knowing Harry wouldn't able to get away anyway in the state he was in.
When he looked closer to the stuff they were putting on the heap, Harry started to recognize things in between the pieces of his wooden trunk. His schoolbooks, the photo album of his parents, his robes and even his wand, but he didn't make a noise until he saw Hedwig lying on the bottom, half covered by his invisibility cloak. Immediately pain shot through his abdomen and then his back from the kicks he received from his uncle. The basterd didn't even bother telling him to be quiet, after all the neighbourhood kids were already setting off loud firecrackers and nobody would be able to hear him cry out anyway.
Watching his relatives pile up everything he owned, Harry couldn't stop a few tears from falling. Lying there helpless, a cold fear grabbed his heart. What were they doing? But a part of him already knew, they were going to burn all his stuff and make him watch. He wouldn't put it beneath them, after all they had already killed his beloved owl.
"Good, all done, just one more thing missing." Harry heard his uncle say, but it was getting harder to understand the words, because the cold and the pain were making him woozy. "Dudley go get the tree." His uncle ordered and at the sounds of the kitchen door slamming shut, Harry realized they were really doing this. Everything he had left from his parents, all his birthday and Christmas presents from his friends, they were going to burn it all and he would be forced to watch.
An enormous grief and anger was growing inside of him, but he was getting more and more tired with the minute, he vaguely realised that it had to be the cold. It was freezing after all and he was lying in his flimsy old shirt in a thin lair of snow.
Suddenly he was jerked fully awake as Vernon grabbed his hair again and pulled him up. When it became clear that Harry couldn't stand on his own, the fat asshole grabbed his arms in a bruising grip to keep him from falling.
Harry looked up to see the pile of wood and beloved items, topped with the nearly needle less tree, which was standing upright on the wooden cross nailed to its trunk. As his Uncle dragged him closer an awful smell hit him and Harry knew it had be gasoline.
Now Harry expected his uncle to stop walking, keep him standing and force him to watch it all burn. What he didn't expect was for Vernon to go all the way to the pile, force him on top of it while it creaked dangerously as if almost collapsing and tie him to the tree with thick ropes.
Now panic was starting to set in, not that his weak limbs were of any help to break free, but he started screaming as loud as he could, which wasn't very loud since his throat felt like sand, hoping against hope that anyone would hear him. Unfortunately for him the Dursleys had everything planned perfectly. Exactly at the moment Harry started yelling, the clock stroke twelve and Dudley set of his thousand banger fireworks.
And as the neighbours wished each other a happy new year and started with their own fireworks, a small, green eyed, black haired boy was being sprayed with champagne by his laughing relatives and set on fire with all of belongings.
His tortures screams weren't heard over all the noise and the smell of burned flesh never alarmed anyone. Thus Harry went into the New Year in flames and his cries died only with the ending of the fireworks.
Harry Potter was no more and all that remained were ashes, scattered by the wind, bones, buried beneath the hedges, and a bright red phoenix feather, never to be found.
End
Well? Tell me what you think please, I'm dying for some feedback.
