Words of the Unforgiving
Summary: It's Harry's seventh year and Voldemort has a new weapon: words. How can Harry fight something that he can only hear?
Disclaimer: I (unfortunately) cannot claim this story or characters apart from the plot. Does it count that I have Harry Potter products?
Chapter 1: Easier to Run
...Wounds so deep they never show, they never go away...
The voice echoed through Harry Potter's dreams. He couldn't figure out who was saying the distant words, but the fierce pain it sent to his scar gave him a fair idea.
He woke; trembling and shivering despite the cold trickles of sweat that covered his entire body.
Voldemort again, but why was he saying those words? What did they mean? These questions flew around and around Harry's head as he lay down to try and sleep once more.
Fatigue swept throughout his body and made him feel as though his bones were made of lead. He hadn't slept a full-uninterrupted night since arriving back at Privet Drive, even though the Dursley's were laying off a bit.
Knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep again, he slipped out of bed and walked across his cold wooden floor to his wardrobe, where he kept his precious photo album. Standing on the tip of his toes, he grasped the edge of the leather cover and pulled it down.
He opened the cover and let the overwhelming emotions wash over him as he saw his one-year-old self in the arms of his beautiful green-eyed mother. He bit the sides of his cheeks to stop the threatening tears as he watched his father beam up at him.
For an hour, he sat there, flipping slowly through the pages of the album that Hagrid had so generously given him. Finally, sunlight spilled through the curtains, instantly giving his room a warm glow. He returned the book to its spot and threw the curtains open to reveal a breathtaking summer morning sky.
The sun was a brilliant orange-pink, giving the illusion of a fiery sky. For a moment, Harry thought he saw the shape of a dog in the clouds. He blinked and looked again but it had floated apart in the wind.
The sound of an abrupt snore reminded Harry where he was and he growled in dislike. No matter how the Dursleys treated him, he would never forget how he was brought up and how much they had made his life unbearable, just for being born. To neutralize the anger, he fantasized hexing them all with different hexes, jinxes and curses to show them what a freak really was.
A tap at the window told Harry that Hedwig had arrived, and he unwillingly stopped his daydream to let in the only friend at Privet Drive he had. She nipped him on the ear lovingly, brushed the top of his head with her wings and waited for him to untie the letter off her leg. Recognizing Hermione's neat handwriting, he eagerly opened the letter.
Hi there, Harry!
I just wanted to know how you were doing. You know, after Sirius' death, I just wanted to make sure you were all right.
It may be hard and life might seem bleak and meaningless, but never give up, Harry. Just remember that there are people out there who really care about you. Not your scar, or not because your 'Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived', but because you're Harry Potter, one of my best friends.
Please Harry, be careful and don't do anything that you'll regret. It may seem easier to run from your problems, but doing that just makes them bigger and nastier.
I'm here if you need me.
Much love and sympathy,
Hermione.
Harry didn't know whether to cry from grief of from Hermione's kindness. How was he doing? Not that good really. He relived the nightmares from his past over and over again, until they were cemented inside his head permanently and he thought about them almost every minute of every day. He had thought of running away and trying to get his head clear, but he remembered what Dumbledore had told him, and so he remained at Privet Drive, going out on short walks, but always returning.
He had to put up with Dudley's constant tauntings and bullying, but Harry thought it was pointless. Why should he be so concerned with Dudley, a mere muggle, when he had to prepare for his upcoming fight with Voldemort?
He half-hoped that he would die in the final battle between him and the most hated, feared and powerful wizard at the time.
Harry sighed pulled on his usual massive clothes and went downstairs to start breakfast.
"Harry, Harry quite contrary,
how does your black hair grow?
With many snails, long rat tails
and snot bags all in a row!"
Dudley sneered at Harry as Harry entered the kitchen.
"I don't care about your pathetic attempt at a song, Duddles," Harry sniggered. Here was his mask that he wore in order to keep sane around the Dursley trio.
The smile disappeared off Dudley's face and he struggled to control his fists, which hung close to the sides of his newly toned and masculine body.
"I guess all that boxing training really came in handy, didn't it pig-boy?" Harry ducked as a fist swung at his head.
"Stop provoking me, freak!" Dudley hissed with a venom in his voice that Harry had never heard before.
"Look, if this is still about the Dementors last year, I swear, I didn't help them," Harry said calmly.
Dudley grunted, obviously not believing him.
"If I had wanted them to suck out your soul, I wouldn't have sent them off. I could've easily ran and left you for dead," Harry growled, annoyed that his stocky cousin wouldn't belive him.
"Why didn't you leave me?" Dudley asked, his voice nervous and slightly shaking. "I know you hate me, and well, I hate you too, but you helped me..."
"Because your my only family I've got left," Harry mumbled and got up from the table to begin breakfast.
Author's rambling: Choose a house to be sorted into and earn 15 points if you can guess which band sings the song 'Easier to Run'. (Hint: They did a remix album with Jay Z).
5 points if you correct the album too.
Another 5 points to every person who reviews!
Please review! I'll post another chapter if one person reviews asking for more!