Water trickled in through the cracks of the ageing wood, reflecting the small amount of light. The dank smell of mould and the scuttling of small creatures filled the small space of the shed. Huddled in the corner shivering violently was the form of a young man silhouetted against the soft glow of the candle, his face encrusted with dried blood and the streaks of tears. Reopened wounds were oozing fresh red. Harry potter saviour of the wizarding world didn't have much longer.
Upon returning back to the durselys they had snapped his wand, removed his belongings and locked him in the shed. While he was still strong enough he had managed to release Hedwig in order to save her from death, although had paid dearly for it himself when his uncle returned home. Harry had given up, there was no possible way he could make it out of this suburban hell hold alive, he was just to weak, there was no point in fighting anymore. The wizarding world would just have to go and fuck themselves; they'd have to find another saviour.
His parched lips opened just wide enough to let in a final gasp of air and with that his eyes fluttered closed and his mind filled with blackness.