AN: this is my very first fic, not just in the Harry Potter universe, but
my first fic EVER! I really would like to know if people like it so far and
think I should carry on or if they think this plot's been done too many
times and should be abandoned (I got another idea lined up anyway, I just
have a serious Sirius addiction and so wanted to do this one first anyway.
That and I just wanted my turn at bashing the Dursleys).
Dedicated to my step-mother...oh how I hate her for getting me hooked on Harry Bloody Potter!
Warning: Erm, don't run with scissors? OH! You mean about the story? No, no warnings. I would put child abuse, but Harry don't constitute a child anymore, so violence, I guess. Little dark and angsty, so if that isn't your scene, please don't read this, and if you do decide to read this, please don't flame me if you don't like it.
Anyways, one with the story, and remember, my first reviewer gets a character named after them when I do my next story!
#
It had been several days since the last time Harry had left his room. He had a chair wedged against the doorknob, so Vernon had tried a few times to get in, but hadn't succeeded, and eventually, Harry had been broken from his reverie long enough to shout something to the effect of Bugger off or ten seconds after entering my room, you'll be leaving through the bloody window! He was sure there was more, but whatever he'd said was obviously enough, as he hadn't been disturbed by anyone for two days...or was it three? Harry wasn't too sure, the days and nights all kinda seemed to blend together now. Eyes closed or open, light outside, dark, and all in- betweens, Harry never saw past the vision that played through his head...always the same, never ending...mostly, he would turn and run form the death room after Bellatrix, just to find it on the other side of the door.
Even Hedwig had stopped trying to provoke a response from her master. She had tried, in the end nipping him on the arm hard enough to draw blood. Harry hadn't reacted in the slightest, not shouting or batting her away, not even blinking, just continuing to stare at a dull spot on the off-white ceiling.
He wasn't sure when or how Dudley got into his room, but he was suddenly made aware of it as his cousins round, ugly face and many chins atop an almost non-existent neck appeared in Harry's line of vision.
"Hey, Freak!" Yelled his cousin, spitting an amount Harry was sure came unnatural even to Dudley. Harry considered simply ignoring his cousin...however, within seconds of executing this plan, Dudley had disappeared, only to reappear in front of his face with a long, thin wooden stick that Harry recognized as his own wand.
Harry's seeker reflexes were apparently taking a break. By the time grabbing it back off of Dudley crossed his mind, Dudley had already jumped back out of arms reach, and by the time Harry was sat up, Dudley was waddling out of the room and down the stairs as fast as his pudgey legs would take him.
Harry caught up with his cousin at the bottom of the stairs, grabbing Dudley's slick hair with one hand and his wand with the other.
"Duddy-kins!" shrieked Aunt Petunia as she and Vernon appeared in the doorway to the living-room.
"Never. Touch. My. Things. Again." Growled Harry, his mouth a mere inch from Dudley's ear where his head had been pulled back so far by Harry's clenched fist in his hair.
Vernon advanced towards the two, looking at Harry like he wanted to murder him, which, knowing Vernon, probably wasn't far off. Harry, however, had let go of Dudley's hair, allowing his obese cousin to fall to the floor, as Harry turned to go back to his room, completely ignoring the indignant yelling from both Dudley and Vernon.
"Or what?!" Dudley yelled. "You gonna seek you Godfather on us?" Harry simply ignored him and carried on walking. He was almost at the top of the stairs before he heard something that made him stop. "Or maybe that would be a little hard, now that he's dead."
Both Petunia and Vernon stopped talking immediately.
"What did you say, Dudley Darling?" asked Aunt Petunia.
Harry turned slowly to face Dudley, his face completely expressionless, his eyes dead.
"I hear you, you know." Sneered Dudley.
"Shut up, Dudley" said Harry, his voice completely toneless.
Dudley continued, "every night, always the same, screaming all night...'Sirius, No...'"
Then, suddenly, Harry was no longer stood at the top of the stairs in the Vernon residence on Privet drive. He was no longer even in Surrey. Harry Potter was back in London, in the Ministry of Magic, standing in the death room before a great arch-way draped with a black veil watching as his God- father was hit with the curse that knocked him through into death.
Through the fog surrounding the image, Harry was aware that his cousin was saying something else.
"She killed Sirius..."
Harry turned to see himself struggling against Remus Lupins grip on him as he attempted to follow Bellatrix.
"Shut up..." Harry's voice was barely audible over his cousins mocking imitation.
"I'll kill her!"
"I said SHUT UP!"
And suddenly, Harry wasn't stood at the top of the stairs in the Vernon residence of Privet drive. Nor was he stood in the Ministry of Magic in London. He was all but flying down the stairs to land on top of his obese cousin, and was sat on top of the boys chest making sticky paste of his face, getting in four punches, one hitting Dudley on the left eye, two round the jaw and one meeting its mark on his cousins nose, producing the gratifying sound of bone snapping, before Petunia screamed and Vernon pulled him off by the throat.
"What the hell do you think you are doing?!" Vernon bellowed.
Harry gripped at the fat fingers digging in around his throat as he struggled to draw breath, his legs thrashing beneath him, finally connecting with some part of his Uncles anatomy as the man dropped him and hurried towards his son. Harry tried to get up, but his legs wouldn't co- operate, and within seconds, Harry had surrendered consciousness to a world of red and black.
#
By the time Harry came to on the carpeted hallway floor, the first thing he was aware of was that he was completely alone. The second thing was that it was night-time, as the house was in total darkness. The third thing, he discovered as he tried to move, was that every single part of his body hurt.
Wincing, Harry sat up and took a few deep breaths while his head stopped spinning. He assumed the Dursleys had taken Dudley to hospital...Harry was sure at least one bone had snapped under his enraged fist.
Struggling to steady himself, Harry made his way up the stairs. He entered his bedroom and turned on the lights. His eyes immediately began burning, sending bolts of electricity into his already agonized brain. Quickly, Harry flipped the switch to turn the lights back on and fumbled towards the window, throwing open the curtains that had remained closed since he had arrived back for the summer, and allowing the moons silver light access to the room. And allowing Harry to see that there were in fact several owls on the tree branches outside the house.
Huh?
Opening the window, Harry glanced at the clock on his bedside table. 00:07am, July 31st.
Harry hadn't a clue as to the date until that moment, and so had no idea it was his birthday. He took the parcels and letters from the Owls. One was a hired owl (Harry could tell by the way it appeared, dropped the package and letter it had been holding and then disappeared again within seconds), one Harry recognized as Rons hyperactive little ball of fluff, Pigwidgeon, or Pig, flying around the ceiling looking thoroughly please with himself, Remus owl, Athena, his own Hedwig, and another that Harry did not recognize.
"You look official...Whatever it is, I didn't do it." He said to the unfamiliar Tawny owl.
He was about to open the letter and parcel left on his bed by the rented owl, when from outside, he heard the sound of a car pulling into the drive. The Dursleys must be back.
Harry quickly took the parcels and letters from the various owls, stuffed them under the floorboard where he had hidden so many things before, and then threw open the window as he heard the door downstairs crash open.
"Go!" Harry whispered urgently, trying to push the owls out of the window. "Get out of here! GO!"
He could hear his uncle stamping up the stairs, cursing him with every foul word he knew as Harry finally get Pig out the window and slammed it shut just as his bedroom door burst open and an enraged looking Vernon stormed into the room.
"Boy!" Vernon bellowed.
"Uncle." Harry replied, not at all fazed by the sight of the man before him, who happened to closely resemble a large red rhinoceros.
Vernon simply looked at his nephew for a moment, before he took one giant step forwards and met his nephew with a sharp back-hand that sent the boy flying across the room.
"A broken nose you gave my son," snarled Vernon looming over the boy sprawled on the floor before him.
Harry touched the back of his hand to his mouth and wasn't surprised to find the lip split and bleeding. "He deserved it." Harry answered, pulling himself up to sit against the wall.
"Oh?" was Vernon's reply, before pulling back and kicking Harry with all his might in his nephews' side. There was the audible sound of ribs cracking as Harry doubled over back onto the floor.
"Go downstairs, boy." Growled Vernon. "Apologize to my son."
"He deserved it." Said Harry, struggling to pull breath into his lungs.
His uncle's foot collided with his already broken ribs again.
"Well maybe you'll feel like apologizing once I've broken some more of your bones."
With that, it really began. Vernon kicked Harry again and again, in the head, the stomach, the ribs, the back, anywhere he could reach. Harry could remember much after he curled into a ball to try and shield himself a little, but he was aware of hanging in the grey haze between consciousness and blissful sleep and calling out, words he couldn't understand or remember tumbling passed his bloody lips, words and names and wracking coughs combining into sentences as the assault continued.
Eventually, it ended. Vernon stood back and glared down at the boy. "It's time to stop hiding behind ghosts, Harry." Said Vernon. "That freak of a Godfather can't save you now."
With that, Vernon delivered a final blow to the side of Harry's head, and the grey haze exploded into brilliant red before the world turned black once more...
#
What must have been hours later, Harry woke up. Every part of his body was either in agony or was completely numb, and his right arm was completely useless.
Harry sat up and tried to make his way up onto his bed. He got onto his knees, using the side of the bed for support, and was bought nearly face to face with Hermione's owl. Like the others before it, this owl too bore a card and box.
Why the hell not? Thought Harry. He couldn't see himself getting into bed anyway. So he opened the lid of the box Hermione had sent him. Inside was a cake, a box of matches and sixteen candles. On top of the cake was a simple message.
Make a wish, Harry.
Harry smiled weakly through the pain. Taking up the candles one by one, he arranged them into a large 'S' on the top of his cake. He struck a match and lit them, and eventually, he was sat on the floor with the white box and chocolate cake in front of him ablaze with the light of sixteen tiny candles.
Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
I wish for Sirius. Harry thought. He repeated it in his head like a mantra, growing louder and louder as all other thoughts were forced out of his head, he could feel the wish building power, he knew it was going to work...
"Bring him back."
Harry tried to take a deep breath, but before he was able to, a wind blew in through the open window and the bright room was plunged into darkness by the warm breath of July, and for one second, just one, Harry thought he could hear a voice in the wind, whispering in his ear before it left the room, whispering a simple four words that sparked a fire of hope in the dark recess of his heart.
You have been heard...
#
REVIEW!
Dedicated to my step-mother...oh how I hate her for getting me hooked on Harry Bloody Potter!
Warning: Erm, don't run with scissors? OH! You mean about the story? No, no warnings. I would put child abuse, but Harry don't constitute a child anymore, so violence, I guess. Little dark and angsty, so if that isn't your scene, please don't read this, and if you do decide to read this, please don't flame me if you don't like it.
Anyways, one with the story, and remember, my first reviewer gets a character named after them when I do my next story!
#
It had been several days since the last time Harry had left his room. He had a chair wedged against the doorknob, so Vernon had tried a few times to get in, but hadn't succeeded, and eventually, Harry had been broken from his reverie long enough to shout something to the effect of Bugger off or ten seconds after entering my room, you'll be leaving through the bloody window! He was sure there was more, but whatever he'd said was obviously enough, as he hadn't been disturbed by anyone for two days...or was it three? Harry wasn't too sure, the days and nights all kinda seemed to blend together now. Eyes closed or open, light outside, dark, and all in- betweens, Harry never saw past the vision that played through his head...always the same, never ending...mostly, he would turn and run form the death room after Bellatrix, just to find it on the other side of the door.
Even Hedwig had stopped trying to provoke a response from her master. She had tried, in the end nipping him on the arm hard enough to draw blood. Harry hadn't reacted in the slightest, not shouting or batting her away, not even blinking, just continuing to stare at a dull spot on the off-white ceiling.
He wasn't sure when or how Dudley got into his room, but he was suddenly made aware of it as his cousins round, ugly face and many chins atop an almost non-existent neck appeared in Harry's line of vision.
"Hey, Freak!" Yelled his cousin, spitting an amount Harry was sure came unnatural even to Dudley. Harry considered simply ignoring his cousin...however, within seconds of executing this plan, Dudley had disappeared, only to reappear in front of his face with a long, thin wooden stick that Harry recognized as his own wand.
Harry's seeker reflexes were apparently taking a break. By the time grabbing it back off of Dudley crossed his mind, Dudley had already jumped back out of arms reach, and by the time Harry was sat up, Dudley was waddling out of the room and down the stairs as fast as his pudgey legs would take him.
Harry caught up with his cousin at the bottom of the stairs, grabbing Dudley's slick hair with one hand and his wand with the other.
"Duddy-kins!" shrieked Aunt Petunia as she and Vernon appeared in the doorway to the living-room.
"Never. Touch. My. Things. Again." Growled Harry, his mouth a mere inch from Dudley's ear where his head had been pulled back so far by Harry's clenched fist in his hair.
Vernon advanced towards the two, looking at Harry like he wanted to murder him, which, knowing Vernon, probably wasn't far off. Harry, however, had let go of Dudley's hair, allowing his obese cousin to fall to the floor, as Harry turned to go back to his room, completely ignoring the indignant yelling from both Dudley and Vernon.
"Or what?!" Dudley yelled. "You gonna seek you Godfather on us?" Harry simply ignored him and carried on walking. He was almost at the top of the stairs before he heard something that made him stop. "Or maybe that would be a little hard, now that he's dead."
Both Petunia and Vernon stopped talking immediately.
"What did you say, Dudley Darling?" asked Aunt Petunia.
Harry turned slowly to face Dudley, his face completely expressionless, his eyes dead.
"I hear you, you know." Sneered Dudley.
"Shut up, Dudley" said Harry, his voice completely toneless.
Dudley continued, "every night, always the same, screaming all night...'Sirius, No...'"
Then, suddenly, Harry was no longer stood at the top of the stairs in the Vernon residence on Privet drive. He was no longer even in Surrey. Harry Potter was back in London, in the Ministry of Magic, standing in the death room before a great arch-way draped with a black veil watching as his God- father was hit with the curse that knocked him through into death.
Through the fog surrounding the image, Harry was aware that his cousin was saying something else.
"She killed Sirius..."
Harry turned to see himself struggling against Remus Lupins grip on him as he attempted to follow Bellatrix.
"Shut up..." Harry's voice was barely audible over his cousins mocking imitation.
"I'll kill her!"
"I said SHUT UP!"
And suddenly, Harry wasn't stood at the top of the stairs in the Vernon residence of Privet drive. Nor was he stood in the Ministry of Magic in London. He was all but flying down the stairs to land on top of his obese cousin, and was sat on top of the boys chest making sticky paste of his face, getting in four punches, one hitting Dudley on the left eye, two round the jaw and one meeting its mark on his cousins nose, producing the gratifying sound of bone snapping, before Petunia screamed and Vernon pulled him off by the throat.
"What the hell do you think you are doing?!" Vernon bellowed.
Harry gripped at the fat fingers digging in around his throat as he struggled to draw breath, his legs thrashing beneath him, finally connecting with some part of his Uncles anatomy as the man dropped him and hurried towards his son. Harry tried to get up, but his legs wouldn't co- operate, and within seconds, Harry had surrendered consciousness to a world of red and black.
#
By the time Harry came to on the carpeted hallway floor, the first thing he was aware of was that he was completely alone. The second thing was that it was night-time, as the house was in total darkness. The third thing, he discovered as he tried to move, was that every single part of his body hurt.
Wincing, Harry sat up and took a few deep breaths while his head stopped spinning. He assumed the Dursleys had taken Dudley to hospital...Harry was sure at least one bone had snapped under his enraged fist.
Struggling to steady himself, Harry made his way up the stairs. He entered his bedroom and turned on the lights. His eyes immediately began burning, sending bolts of electricity into his already agonized brain. Quickly, Harry flipped the switch to turn the lights back on and fumbled towards the window, throwing open the curtains that had remained closed since he had arrived back for the summer, and allowing the moons silver light access to the room. And allowing Harry to see that there were in fact several owls on the tree branches outside the house.
Huh?
Opening the window, Harry glanced at the clock on his bedside table. 00:07am, July 31st.
Harry hadn't a clue as to the date until that moment, and so had no idea it was his birthday. He took the parcels and letters from the Owls. One was a hired owl (Harry could tell by the way it appeared, dropped the package and letter it had been holding and then disappeared again within seconds), one Harry recognized as Rons hyperactive little ball of fluff, Pigwidgeon, or Pig, flying around the ceiling looking thoroughly please with himself, Remus owl, Athena, his own Hedwig, and another that Harry did not recognize.
"You look official...Whatever it is, I didn't do it." He said to the unfamiliar Tawny owl.
He was about to open the letter and parcel left on his bed by the rented owl, when from outside, he heard the sound of a car pulling into the drive. The Dursleys must be back.
Harry quickly took the parcels and letters from the various owls, stuffed them under the floorboard where he had hidden so many things before, and then threw open the window as he heard the door downstairs crash open.
"Go!" Harry whispered urgently, trying to push the owls out of the window. "Get out of here! GO!"
He could hear his uncle stamping up the stairs, cursing him with every foul word he knew as Harry finally get Pig out the window and slammed it shut just as his bedroom door burst open and an enraged looking Vernon stormed into the room.
"Boy!" Vernon bellowed.
"Uncle." Harry replied, not at all fazed by the sight of the man before him, who happened to closely resemble a large red rhinoceros.
Vernon simply looked at his nephew for a moment, before he took one giant step forwards and met his nephew with a sharp back-hand that sent the boy flying across the room.
"A broken nose you gave my son," snarled Vernon looming over the boy sprawled on the floor before him.
Harry touched the back of his hand to his mouth and wasn't surprised to find the lip split and bleeding. "He deserved it." Harry answered, pulling himself up to sit against the wall.
"Oh?" was Vernon's reply, before pulling back and kicking Harry with all his might in his nephews' side. There was the audible sound of ribs cracking as Harry doubled over back onto the floor.
"Go downstairs, boy." Growled Vernon. "Apologize to my son."
"He deserved it." Said Harry, struggling to pull breath into his lungs.
His uncle's foot collided with his already broken ribs again.
"Well maybe you'll feel like apologizing once I've broken some more of your bones."
With that, it really began. Vernon kicked Harry again and again, in the head, the stomach, the ribs, the back, anywhere he could reach. Harry could remember much after he curled into a ball to try and shield himself a little, but he was aware of hanging in the grey haze between consciousness and blissful sleep and calling out, words he couldn't understand or remember tumbling passed his bloody lips, words and names and wracking coughs combining into sentences as the assault continued.
Eventually, it ended. Vernon stood back and glared down at the boy. "It's time to stop hiding behind ghosts, Harry." Said Vernon. "That freak of a Godfather can't save you now."
With that, Vernon delivered a final blow to the side of Harry's head, and the grey haze exploded into brilliant red before the world turned black once more...
#
What must have been hours later, Harry woke up. Every part of his body was either in agony or was completely numb, and his right arm was completely useless.
Harry sat up and tried to make his way up onto his bed. He got onto his knees, using the side of the bed for support, and was bought nearly face to face with Hermione's owl. Like the others before it, this owl too bore a card and box.
Why the hell not? Thought Harry. He couldn't see himself getting into bed anyway. So he opened the lid of the box Hermione had sent him. Inside was a cake, a box of matches and sixteen candles. On top of the cake was a simple message.
Make a wish, Harry.
Harry smiled weakly through the pain. Taking up the candles one by one, he arranged them into a large 'S' on the top of his cake. He struck a match and lit them, and eventually, he was sat on the floor with the white box and chocolate cake in front of him ablaze with the light of sixteen tiny candles.
Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
I wish for Sirius. Harry thought. He repeated it in his head like a mantra, growing louder and louder as all other thoughts were forced out of his head, he could feel the wish building power, he knew it was going to work...
"Bring him back."
Harry tried to take a deep breath, but before he was able to, a wind blew in through the open window and the bright room was plunged into darkness by the warm breath of July, and for one second, just one, Harry thought he could hear a voice in the wind, whispering in his ear before it left the room, whispering a simple four words that sparked a fire of hope in the dark recess of his heart.
You have been heard...
#
REVIEW!