Chapter 2

Harry heard his uncle's car pull into the driveway. He had worked all day at top speed, and he was still unable to finish all the tasks assigned for the day. He knew he was in for it, but he had forgotten how bad things could get…

"BOY! I'm home! You better have those chores done or you'll get what's comin' to ya!" There was something wrong with Vernon's voice Harry noticed. He knew that slur from somewhere. Harry walked out to meet his uncle with his head hung low. "Did you get those chores done boy?"

"No Uncle Vernon. Sorry Uncle Vernon. I tried my hardest Uncle Vernon."

"Try your hardest I'm sure. Probably layed around all day like the lazy dog you are. Wouldn't be surprised if you got tossed out of that nasty… school… for not doing your work." Something was wrong. Vernon never mentioned Harry's school. And he knew that sound from somewhere…

"Uncle Vernon, I did do some of the chores. I mowed the grass, painted the fence, cleaned out the garage, did the dishes…"

"Shut up boy. I don't need to hear your pathetic groveling." As Vernon advanced on Harry, Harry smelled something… Beer! His uncle had been drinking! This was not a good sign. The last time he drank… well… Harry didn't want to think of that.

Vernon raised his hand. Harry knew what was coming. He steeled himself and tried to pull himself away. SMACK! Not fast enough.

"Don't you dare try to run away from me boy! You freak!" He hit Harry over and over again. He knocked Harry especially hard in the stomach and Harry doubled over, fell to the floor, and gasped for air. Once on the ground, Harry's uncle kicked him in the stomach. Harry curled himself into a ball to try to protect as much of his body as possible. His uncle kicked him again and again. In the head, at the base of his spine, in the shin, even in the nose. Then all of a sudden, it stopped. Harry just lay there and wondered what was going on. His uncle never stopped this soon. And then he knew. FWAP! He was struck with the belt. Harry bit his lip in an effort not to cry out… God it hurt so bad. His uncle continued to hit him with the belt over and over and over again. Harry lost count of how many lashes he received. He couldn't think anymore, could barely even breathe through the pain. After what seemed like hours he was dragged by his hair and thrown into his cupboard. The cupboard under the stairs again. It's been a while since I've been here. Something bad must have happened. Then through the door, his questions were answered.

"You FREAK! You'll learn not to use your abnormal-ness on me! How dare you ruin my job! Keep yourself OUT of my AFFAIRS!" So that was it. He must have been fired. I wonder if I actually did unconsciously ruin the business… It would have been much more fun that way… Wait! Fun? I must be losing my mind. After a little while, Harry passed out from the pain.

An hour or so later, Harry was woken by his uncle. He was dragged out into the living room. As Harry looked around, he wondered where his aunt and cousin were. Must have gone out shopping or something, Harry thought.

He flipped around and looked at his uncle. Vernon had an evil glint in his eye. This can't be good, mused Harry. Then he heard it. The sound he hoped never to hear again. The metallic sound of a zipper. No, thought Harry. No, no please. Not again. Please not again.

Harry felt his pants being ripped down. This can't be happening, he thought. But it was. It was no dream. The last thing Harry felt was a ripping sensation at the base of his spine…

When he woke up, his uncle was standing above him with something metallic in his hand.

"This is the last time you wrong me boy. I will not tolerate this anymore. I'm doing what I should have done a long time ago." His uncle dragged him by his hair to Dudley's second bedroom. The room was devoid of anything except for a bed and handcuffs. Vernon cuffed Harry to the bed and stood above him. "Goodbye boy." BANG! A shot echoed through the room.


Severus Snape apparated to the corner of Privet Drive. He quickly transfigured his robes into muggle clothing and swept down the street to number four. How quaint, he thought. Perfect little Potter, living in the perfect little house on a perfect little street. Worshipped by the muggles I bet. Saint Potter, savior-of-the-bloody-world. Bet he hasn't done a damn thing one day of his life.

Snape strode quickly up to the door of the house and knocked. From inside he heard blundering as if an elephant was approaching the door. A large, fat, nearly purple-colored man answered the door.

"Yes?" he snapped. "What do you want? Make it quick."

"I'm here to check on Po… Harry. I'm one of his professors from Hogwarts."

"So," answered the man. "You're another one of those freaks. Well I won't have that type of abomination in my house. I've had enough of it as it is. Now, if you'll excuse me…" The man attempted to close the door.

Freak? Abomination? Thought Snape. What is going on?

Snape quickly put his foot in the door. "Now sir, I am only here to make sure Harry is ok. I will be on my way in a minute. Now if you please…"

"Harry is fine. Now if you would please remove your foot…"

Snape pulled out his wand and forced his way into the house. "Now see here," blundered the man, "this is my house and I will call the police and have you arrested for breaking in and entering if you do not leave this instant."

Snape pointed his wand at the man and asked in his steely tone reserved for intimidating his students, "Where is Harry?"

The man quailed under the wand and pointed up the stairs. Snape quickly walked up the stairs. First room was obviously the master bedroom. Second room was apparently a guest bedroom as it appeared furnished, but uninhabited. Third room was filled with every type of muggle toy imaginable. Pictures lined the wall of an incredibly fat boy and his friends and family. Not a single picture of Potter anywhere. I thought this would be the room Potter would have… The last door in the hallway was covered with locks and bolts. This doesn't look good. Why would Potter be under lock and key? Snape quickly spelled the locks open and opened the door.

He was hit with a sensation of pain, despair, and… guilt? Snape staggered backward, hit with the nearly overwhelming smell of blood. It made him physically sick to his stomach. He quickly recovered and looked around the room. Just two things were in the room. A desk covered with parchment and a bed. He was about to turn around when he noticed something on the bed… handcuffs binding something to the corners… He took another step closer. "Lumos." He whispered. And there was the one and only Harry The-Boy-Who-Lived Potter, lying broken and beaten on the bed.