Will the Pain Stop?
Disclaimer: Like I said before, only the plot is mine. Everything else is JK Rowling's.
Opening Comments: Thanks to my reviewer, Cassi Angelica. I am so happy to have you as a reviewer, and I am glad you like my stories. Here's chapter two! Chapter three will be up and running once I get more reviews!
Chapter 2: Completely Miserable
The next few days went by in somewhat of a blur for Harry. He did various chores for his aunt, but no more than two each day. He finished Fear Nothing and went on to read the second book of the two: Seize the Night.
Harry's dreams steadily became worse. Although he would start the night off with fitful dreamless sleeping, it would all turn into terrible nightmares of the DoM mixed with scenes from the graveyard in his fourth year, and even the memories of his mother sacrificing herself for him, which he heard when Dementors were around. It was all slowly taking its toll on the boy.
Although Harry ate, it was very little. His stomach just couldn't seem to handle more than just small portions. His complexion was no longer pale, but that was because he had spent the past week out in the sun. His muscles were growing from all the work he had been doing, but not much. Harry's eyes lost more and more spark each day, though the Order did not notice.
Keeping his word to the Order, though barely, Harry wrote a short letter every three days telling them he was fine and that his relatives were being "good".
In truth, his aunt barely talked to him, but that was fine with him. Dudley only pushed him around when he saw him, which was hardly ever. He never saw his uncle, which was totally fine with Harry. Of course, his relatives weren't his issue at the moment, though that would soon change. No, what was really his problem were his dreams and memories. They were slowly tearing him down.
But one day, on a Saturday, when Harry's Uncle Vernon was not working, things started to change. That day, Harry had just come in for a water and snack break when his uncle came up to him.
"I haven't heard from your freaky little friends."
"Well, you haven't done anything that would cause them concern, so you wouldn't have, now would you?"
"Don't use that tone with me, boy. I was merely commenting on the fact that I haven't caught sight or scent of them in a long time. I usually do. It seems they don't care about you. Can't say that I blame them, though."
"Well, if it is true that you can see and smell them, and you haven't lately, it doesn't mean they don't care about me. It means that they have stopped treating me like a bloody little kid."
"Are you calling me a liar?"
"No, I was merely-." SMACK! Harry never got the chance to finish his sentence.
"DON'T YOU DARE TALK BACK TO ME, BOY!"
SLAP! Another slap made its mark on Harry's face. A huge red hand print had formed on his cheek, and it was going to bruise. But for some reason, Harry didn't care. He just stood there. But this only seemed to heighten Vernon's rage, for instead of slapping The-Boy-Who-Lived, he punched him, right in the face.
Blood ran down Harry nose and onto his bare chest, and his left eye began to swell shut. But no tears formed, and he did not back down. He merely stood there. He took another blow, this time in the stomach. Harry keeled forward from the impact. His uncle was strong, and Harry's stomach was small, and the boy was quite skinny.
When he got up, his uncle was gone. Harry calmly and gingerly made his way to the bathroom. He cleaned off his face and chest and went into his bedroom, quietly shutting the door behind him.
It had been around five in the afternoon when Harry had encountered his uncle. When he looked at his clock, he saw that it was almost seven. The blow to his stomach had knocked him out for a little while. And yet, Harry didn't care.
Harry's Thoughts
I can't believe I simply let him hit me like that. Of course, maybe it's just because I deserve some punishment. I did, after all, get Sirius killed. It's my fault he is dead. I deserve to be hit.
End Harry's Thoughts
After that day, Harry was hit by his uncle about five times a day. Twice, if it was on a day when Vernon had to work late. And yet Harry didn't care. He continued to write to the Order saying that he was fine. He wasn't sure why they believed him. He knew they were watching him, after all.
Harry continued to spend a lot of his time outside. He had written to the Order and told them that he would be going for a two block run once or twice every day and that he didn't want anyone following too closely. They seemed to respect his wishes, for he sensed no one too close to him. He knew they were there, unlike what his uncle thought, but they weren't too close.
Why Harry never told anyone about his more and more frequent and brutal beatings, he wasn't really sure. He was sure that it had to do with the fact that everyone would ask questions, and they would lock him away at Headquarters, and he really didn't want to go back there.
Things only got worse for Harry. Although he was free in the late mornings through the early evenings, Harry was trapped. Not only was he trapped in his own mind, he was also trapped with Uncle Vernon's beatings. And Aunt Petunia was always scarce when they happened. Of course Dudley was never around, and even if he was, he would most likely help his father.
When Aunt Petunia came around, she gave Harry a bag of ice and some water. That was the only support he got from her, but it was a lot more than Harry ever expected. For the help she gave, though, Harry was quite grateful.
One Sunday, though, Aunt Petunia and Dudley went into town to buy Dudley a few new games for his winning a wrestling match. This was at Uncle Vernon's strong suggestion.
Harry had just gotten back from his daily run. (He was really getting into shape. Not that he really cared, though. He just wanted to be out and away from everything.) He walked in the door. After closing it, a punch went to his strengthening, yet very bruised, tan stomach. Harry grunted in pain and surprise, but he didn't go down.
He felt himself being pulled by the hair and dragged up the stairs into his room. He was literally thrown into his room. He slammed his back into the chest of drawers. Another punch came to him, in the face this time.
"Your freaky little friends aren't here, are they? They don't ruddy care what happens to you. I am free to do what I want to you!"
Harry couldn't even answer; not that he was supposed to. More punches and kicks came to him. He wasn't sure when it all stopped because he had passed out by then, but when he came to, he was on his bed, with a blanket on top of him. He looked at the clock and it was six the next morning.
Harry's Thoughts
The one good thing about Uncle Vernon's beatings are that when they knock me out, I don't have any dreams.
End Harry's Thoughts
Harry remembered that he had to write the Order that day, so he sat up. A shooting pain went up his spine, and Harry cursed loudly. When he managed to find some parchment, a quill, and some ink, Harry was almost crying with pain.
He hastily jotted down a small note:
Dear Everyone,
I am doing fine. My relatives are leaving me alone for the most part. And when we do have contact, it is as pleasant as one can be with someone you would rather not be nice to. I think the fear you placed in them at the beginning of the summer is doing the trick. You might not see me out and running for a little while because I am going to be doing some indoor work for my aunt, and I want to do some studying before school.
HP
Harry laughed bitterly as he reread his note and sent it off with Hedwig. Before flying out the window, she gave him a very gentle nip on the finger and ten took off. Harry sadly watched her go.
Harry desperately wanted to get out of the house he was in. Although he believed that he deserved what he was getting, he felt that it should be given by someone who actually knew Sirius. He didn't want to go to the Order; he just wanted to get out.
When Harry attempted to walk to the bathroom, the pain through his body was so bad that he collapsed back into unconsciousness. Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Bloody-Die, slipped back into a deep blackness that he welcomed whole-heartedly. But it didn't last as long as he wanted it to.
Changing in Points of View
Dumbledore's POV
Albus Dumbledore let Hedwig in the moment that he saw her. He was very worried about her master, Harry. He couldn't explain his worry. He quickly opened the letter and read it. There was something there…there had to be some hidden meaning. Something was happening on Pivet Drive. The Headmaster of Hogwarts was very disturbed for reasons that he could not understand.
A knock came on the kitchen door followed by Severus Snape, Molly Weasley, and Remus Lupin. The three walked into the kitchen, two with ashen faces, and one with his usual grimness.
"Did you receive a reply from him, Albus?" Remus asked worriedly.
"Yes, Remus. I did receive a letter from him."
"You don't seem very relieved, Albus," said Severus.
"I fear that I am not, Severus. Although he says he is fine, it just doesn't feel right."
"We should go and get him. I will go. I couldn't bear the thought of him being mistreated," Molly Weasley said softly, but with conviction.
"Molly," said Remus kindly, yet sternly, "sit down before you have a heart attack. We need to all discuss this. I care a lot about Harry too, but if he is telling the truth, you know how angry he will get if we come when nothing is wrong. What makes you think he wasn't telling the truth, Albus?"
"I don't know," the old wizard said tiredly.
"What do you propose we do?" asked Severus.
"First of all, I would like to know if any of you have noticed a change in Harry's behavior lately. Severus, your report first please."
"I honestly don't know what to report. All I have seen him do on my shifts are work in the yard and do his routine jog. He seems to be listening to something. I have come to understand that he is using a muggle artifact called a CD player. It plays music through things called headphones. Anyway, he works in the yard and listens to music. He goes on jogs, like he told us he would, and he goes back into the house. He spends a great deal of time outside. I honestly don't get very close to the boy. I stay my distance."
"Thank you, Severus. Remus, what is your report?"
"Same as Severus', I'm afraid. I try to stay a distance away, of course, not for the same reasons. I honestly think that his behavior is his way of dealing with S-with what happened earlier this year."
"Albus, you are seldom worried like this when Harry writes to us. We need to do something. I can't stand this anymore," Mrs. Weasley was practically bawling.
At this, Snape grunted a small laugh. Everyone looked at him.
"You can't honestly tell me that he is being treated anything but like a king, now can you?"
"Severus," Albus said sternly, "I know that you have a grudge against Harry, but you honestly do not know what that boy deals with that he is not telling us. His relatives treat him anything but like a king."
Remus stood up. "You know, you know nothing. You don't have any clue as to what Harry deals with every time he goes back there. Your little school age grudge is simply ridiculous. That is the reason why Harry never could learn Occlumency. That's why Sirius is dead! It's because of you!" Remus was breathing hard.
"Remus!" gasped Mrs. Weasley/
"Everyone just sit down!" Dumbledore was angry. He calmed his voice. "Now, while Remus' little speech was crude, I believe he made a very important point."
"What?" asked Snape incredulously.
"Calm down, Severus. I am saying that Remus makes a very good point at the fact that you haven't gotten over your school day grudge. It's not good to keep a grudge like that. It has only affected you and everyone else involved, including Harry, for the worst. This has to be put to an end, and now. Right now, we all need to focus on Harry and what is going on with him. This year is going to be harder than ever on him, and he needs everyone's support. Have I made myself clear?"
"Crystal, Albus," said Snape heatedly.
"Okay, so what are we going to do about Harry?" asked Mrs. Weasley.
Dumbledore smiled slightly to himself. He always admired how Molly Weasley could take charge of a situation, especially when it concerns children.
"Why don't I read you Harry's letter, and then we can decide what to do?"
And so Dumbledore read Harry's letter to the small crowd. Remus sat slumped in a chair at the table, Molly sat ramrod straight in her chair next to Remus, and Snape stood sternly in the corner of the room. Everyone was quiet for a few minutes after Dumbledore had finished. The letter was perfectly normal, but there was something missing.
No one knew what it was, but it hung in the air like a leaden weight. The tension of the thoughts of all four people was thick enough to cut a knife through it. What was missing from Harry's letter? It had been pretty much like all his others. But the ominous feeling that something was not right hung about them all in a chokingly tight manner.
End Dumbledore's POV
Back to Harry's POV
While everyone at Headquarters was deciding what to do, Harry was lying unconscious on his floor. He had slipped into the deep blackness and hoped never to come back. But his wish was not granted. He was awoken by a gentle nipping of his earlobe.
As Harry looked up, he saw his faithful owl, Hedwig by his side. When he tried to get up, pain coursed through his body, but not so bad as to slip him back into that welcome abyss of unconsciousness.
He managed to get up and into the bathroom, though the once five second journey took nearly three minutes. He gently dabbed at his bruised and blood-caked face. His entire body hurt. It was like the pain of the Cruciatus Curse in a slightly lesser fashion. The pain wasn't in every single nerve of his body, like with the curse, but it was a longer lasting pain, and that was what made it all the more intolerable.
When Harry was done, he gingerly slipped back into his bedroom and lied down on his bed. Unwillingly, he began to cry. But he soon stopped because his entire body racked with his sobs, and that brought on more pain.
Suddenly, Harry realized that sooner or later, his uncle would probably kill him. With this thought, he knew that he had to get away. He wouldn't, couldn't, go back to Grimmauld Place. But he knew that he couldn't stay here.
Ignoring the pain, Harry grabbed a piece of parchment and wrote a letter that he had been meaning to write for a quite some time:
Professor Snape,
I have been doing a great deal of thinking, and I want to apologize. First of all, I would like to apologize for looking into your memories. It was wrong of me. Secondly, I would like to apologize for what happened when you were at school with my dad. They should never have done that to you, and none of the Marauders ever apologized, so I am doing for them. I hope that you will come to realize that, uncannily close as our appearances are, I am not my father. I am me. I know you think of me as someone who lets my being a hero go to my head, but this isn't the case. If I could give up my being a hero, even if it meant my nonexistence, then I would, because, quite frankly, I am sick of it. I want people to like me for me and not that I didn't die when someone tried to kill me. Anyway, again, I apologize.
HP
Harry gently stroked Hedwig and then sent her out the window. He watched her fly off into the distance, and then went to lie back on the floor where he was at. He hoped that if his uncle came in and saw him in the same place on the floor, that he wouldn't subject him to another beating.
Harry closed his eyes. His breathing steadied, and he slipped into the world of dreams, a place which he hated with a passion. But he knew he had to keep his eyes closed, and his breathing steady, or his uncle would know, and the beatings would get worse.
Meanwhile, a beautiful snowy owl made her way to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. And all who would read that letter, for there would be many, would all be shocked.
Closing Comments: Well, here is another chapter. Please read and review…Criticism is welcome, but please, don't be crude. Thanks again everyone!