"There are many ways of breaking a heart. Stories were full of hearts broken by love, but what really broke a heart was taking away its dream - whatever that dream might be." – Pearl Buck

Chapter 2 – Broken Heart, Broken Dreams

It was July 23, the day on which Harry would return for his month-long 'summer vacation.' Stepping off the plane, Harry took a quick look around; there, standing as far away as possible from the people getting off of "Magical Airline" were the last three people he wanted to see. Well, at least they were here this year… last year he had to walk back to the house – thank god for invisibility cloaks and broomsticks. With a sigh, Harry pulled his trunk over to the three magic haters. Out of habit, he looked at Vernon's forehead to see if his vein was throbbing (never a good sign) but, luckily, he was just a purple-ish red color.

"Where's that bloody chicken of yours? I'm not making a trip back here because you forgot something." Uncle Vernon snapped. When Harry heard his words, his eyes started to involuntarily water; goddamn! How come he always knew how to do that? No – Harry hadn't forgotten Hedwig, his owl… someone thought that it would be amusing to see what would happen if you mixed live bait, a three headed dog (for some reason named "Fluffy") and the emotions of Harry Potter… well… Fluffy left happy…

Closing his eyes to stop the tears that were threatening to come out, Harry responded with, "No, Uncle Vernon – I haven't forgotten anything. Hedwig has… has… Hedwig dies a few weeks ago…"

"Not much of a loss, that one," Vernon said gleefully; what else could Harry expect him to say? Was he really hoping that Vernon would feel sorry! Blimey, he hated the bird, and he had made sure Harry knew it. "Well, let's go then. I don't have all day," his uncle said, already walking towards the car.

Harry sighed again and began to drag his trunk out to Vernon's black BMW. After a few minutes, Harry noticed that neither his aunt nor his cousin had ridiculed him yet – it wasn't like aunt Petunia to voluntarily give up the 'pleasure' of being able to bite Harry's head off. Well, maybe things would be better this summer…

Half an hour later, Harry was starting to get a little suspicious. Not only had Petunia kept her horse-like mouth closed, but Dudley hadn't even tried to lay a punch on him. He didn't think Vernon had noticed anything, however, because he had spent the entire car ride back to Pivet Drive in a continuous rant, ranging from how useless Harry was, to the traffic, to how ungrateful Harry was, to how much of a bother it was to even keep Harry. By the time they had pulled into number 4, Vernon had worked himself into a 'right-state,' as Petunia called it – or at least would have called it, had she still not been keeping her mouth shut.

That was they way they went through dinner, as well. Petunia refused to even twitch her lips, and, although he was still shoveling food down his throat, Dudley hadn't said anything either… and Harry was scared. There weren't many things that could actually scare him – but one of the few things that could was when his relatives acted a bit 'un-normal.' If there was one thing Harry had learned in his almost 17 years, it was that if anything out of the ordinary were to take place, then he would get blamed for it.

It was this terrifying thought that kept Harry on the alert. He was purposefully doing his best to stay out of everyone's way, especially the one of his uncle's. Harry let out a small sigh of relief when, while he was trying to fall asleep on his pallet in his 'room' (the cupboard under the stairs), he heard the front door open and close. The only time, at night at least, that door every opened was when his uncle was going out to get a drink or ten. At least he was safe for now – he most likely would have to pay for his uncle's drinking later, but for now he would be able to sleep.

It was dark. That was the first thing he noticed. It had to still be 'night-time' outside. That was when he heard it – there were heavy footsteps storming his way, and then there was the ever-faithful cry of "boy!" That was when his heart sank – nothing good ever came out of that cry.

Harry threw open the door to his cupboard, hoping that if he got to his uncle fast enough, then maybe he would be lucky enough to get away with just a sound beating and nothing… more. Harry ran into the living room and looked around, terrified of what he may find. When he finally spotted his uncle, he realized that something was terribly wrong – Vernon wasn't angry – he was pissed – and Harry had no idea what it was he was supposed to have done this time.

Harry found Vernon right before Vernon's fist connected with the side of his head. He had turned around slightly to find his uncle standing right behind him, with a bottle of scotch in his hands, and slightly unfocused eyes. Harry made the mistake of being shocked to find his uncle right behind him, and was unable to even try to block the fist that was swinging his way.

"You worthless piece of shit!" Vernon yelled, slightly slurring his words. "Look what you've done now!" As he yelled, Vernon continued to hit, kick and scratch every piece of Harry he could reach. with a particularly brutal punch to his forehead, Vernon's bottle of scotch broke, the glass making even more cuts on his already bleeding body, and the liquor was mixing with the blood, causing Harry to scream as the liquid began to create a burning and stinging sensation.

"THEY LEFT! YOU MADE THEM LEAVE! YOU FUCKING-WORTHLESS-PIECE-OF SCUM!" Vernon continued to rant. "Petunia took Dudley and left! Where did they go? Where did you send them? I know you did it – you used your freaky magic and made them leave! Make them come back! NOW!"

After a minute of trying to work out what it was Vernon was actually saying, around trying to defend his body, it dawned on Harry. It all made sense. Aunt Petunia hadn't said anything all day – but had been waiting for the right time to be able to leave. She had probably even been waiting for the day when Harry came back from school – aunt Petunia realized she had to get out, by any means, and she sacrificed Harry to do so.

"I – I didn't do anything!" Harry wheezed, trying to protect his ribs from the crushing weight of his uncle. At some point he had somehow managed to sit on top of Harry… Harry didn't even remember getting to the ground. "I'm not allowed to use magic out of school – I couldn't have sent them away," Harry insisted.

"Don't lie to me, boy!" Vernon yelled, standing up suddenly. "I don't like being lied to! I'll show you what happens to those who lie to me!" At that, Vernon yanked Harry up off of the ground and threw him half over the couch, but no before he had ripped off his pants.

"NO! Please… please don't…" Harry begged. "Please – I-I'll do anything! Just don't… please don't…," Harry ended, half crying half whispering. He realized, a moment too late, that he was lying, on his stomach, on the arm of the couch.

"SHUT UP, BOY!" Vernon yelled, removing his own trousers. In one swift movement, Vernon shoved himself into Harry – causing the boy to scream. "That's right, whore," Vernon panted, "scream for me!"

His uncle's words, along with the pain of the ripping of his skin, caused Harry to start to really cry. He had vowed that this wouldn't happen this summer. He felt sick. He felt contaminated. He felt violated. Why did his uncle do this to him? He could handle being hit, and he could handle being yelled at but this… this was horrible. Harry wanted nothing more than to have his uncle stop. Harry prayed with all of his heart that someone would save him; that someone would burst through the front door and take him away… but no one ever did. Harry had lost count the number of times he had wished that something like that would happen – he had given up hope. He knew, by now, that no one even cared that he existed, no to mention being abused…

Harry tried to ignore the feeling of Vernon behind him – he just hoped that it would be over soon – that Vernon would just finish… he was far beyond from caring at this point…

On the other side of the world, two men were sitting at a desk, drinking tea, when one suddenly stood up.

"What is it, Serverus?" a man with a long, white beard asked, obviously confused. They had been discussing some new ideas they had for warding and protecting the students at their school… nothing had been said that should have caused the man to leap up like that.

"Albus – the amulet!" the man named Serverus said, breathlessly, as he pulled a round, bronze medallion out from under his shirt where he wore it. Both men quickly looked at the amulet in question, which was pulsing. On inspection, one could see that it was glowing a faint red color.

"You are certain this is it?" Albus asked, his eyebrows lifted in an uncharacteristic display of curiosity.

"Yes," Serverus replied, as his face took on an expression of hope. "I've waited for so long… we most go at once!" With that, the man named Serverus turned and ran over to the fireplace, threw in some floo powder, and shouted his destination impatiently, closely followed by Albus.

(A/N): Sooo… what do you think? I apologize for the long wait you guys have had – but I'm finally able to get back on the ball, as far as writing goes! I normally respond to each and every review I receive, so this one time I hope that you all will forgive me! I will say, however, that I was shocked at the number of responses I got for a first chapter! I really didn't expect this story to be that big of a success – so I was pleasantly surprised (note: that was the understatement of the year). Anyway – I will be updating again soon – A LOT sooner then this has been! Let me know what you think of my story! Thanks!