2
Obscuro
"Get up, you lazy little son of a bitch!"
Vernon was hammering on Harry's door, shaking with outrage to find that his place at the kitchen table had NOT been set, there had been NO breakfast made, and the coffee pot was COLD! Dudley was sniveling away down in the kitchen, Petunia was flying into pendantics about how her son would starve to death (even Vernon had snorted at this), and he would now be late for another day of explaining to his boss why no one wanted to buy drill bits right now. Just fantastic, the boy would pay for this, and dearly.
"I want and answer, you insolent deadbeat! Get up and get out here right now." With that, Dursley fired a well aimed kick at the base of the door, which splintered at the impact. " Look what you made me do now!" he snarled in outrage, snapping open all of the locks on the outside of the jam and flinging the door open into the room beyond.
"You're gonna pay now, boy." He smirked as he pushed his considerable self into the dim room, stalking over to the small bed in the corner where he could see the shape of his wife's sister's son curled up in a ball.
He reached over to grab the slight shoulder, the boy huddled facing towards the wall. It was strange, the boy would usually just stare at him when addressed, looking at Vernon as if HE were the anomaly. This simply made the outraged male the more violent. Wrenching the boy over, he stood for a moment in shock at what he beheld there. the sheets were literally soaked in blood, as was the boys clothing.. The razor blade still grasped in his now still hand. The only way that Vernon could tell the boy was still alive (though how much he didn't know) was by the way the wisp of long hair that fell over his face moved every so often as he breathed.
"Bloody Hell! How am I supposed to explain this? What did you go and do now! Wake up, ingrate!" His beefy hand stung as he slapped the boy hard across the face, instantly drawing another bruise there. He waited a moment, and there was no movement or response, so he drew back and dealt him another one. With that, the boy groaned and shifted slightly.
"Petunia!!!" Vernon hollered at the top of his lungs. "PETUNIA!!!!!"
"Vern?" she called from downstairs.
"Petunia! Bring up the Freak's bloody wand from under the stairs. He's hauled off and tried to doff himself under our roof, and now he can go ahead and fix himself up. I'm not taking him to a hospital; it would be far too much effort. Bloody hassle," He muttered to himself.
"Did you hear that boy?" He yelled again, directly into Harry's ear. "You're going to fix your own mess!!! I'm not going to let you die, as much as I would love it if someone else went ahead and killed you. You want to die, go and do it at that Ruddy School for Freaks you love so much - Warthog's or whatever the hell you call it. But you're not going to kill yourself here." With that, he reached over and wrapped his hands in the blanket and the end of the bed and clamped his hands over the still oozing wounds.
"I wouldn't want to get your tainted blood on me. Disgusting display. you're little friends will be right proud of you I'm sure!"
Harry's aunt came rushing into the room, a tea towel around her hand so as not to actually touch the horrible stick in her hands.
"Here." She held it out; as if afraid it might spin round and bite her.
"BOY!" Vernon hollered. "BOY! Here's your ruddy wand! Now perform some magic trick on your arms to make them stop bleeding this instant!"
Harry tried in vain to open his eyes, trying to remember what had happened, why he felt so exhausted and weak. Had it been Voldemort? His uncle's words had seemed confusing and muddled, and he hadn't grasped the meaning behind them. His musings were cut short by another Thump to his face.
"Dad?" Dudley had appeared at the door, the expression on his face making him look like an ox. "What's the matter Dad, what's he gone and done this time?" Dudley stepped in further to get a better look, and was pulled out of his stupidity by the sight that met him.
"Harry! Harry's dead! Dad finally killed him! We've got to call an ambulance!" Dudley spun and his heel and lumbered out of the room.
"Don't you dare, Dudley! PETUNIA! GO and stop him, quick! We don't want the authorities to find out - what a disgrace!"
"Dudikins! Dudikins, darling. it's OK, Daddy has everything under control. Harry isn't dead, he just did something stupid. Just go and play on the computer honey!"
Dudley stopped at the top of the staircase, confused. Harry needed help, that much was clear, and it was very clear that Daddy DID NOT have everything under control right now. For the first time in his life, he did the right thing.
"Fine then, Mommy." He answered subserviently, and then crept down the stairs to phone the authorities.
Meanwhile, Vernon had placed the wand into Harry's hand, and pointed it at the opposite wrist.
"Say your mumbo-jumbo, boy. Say it and seal these cuts. Do it now or I'll really hurt you!" The grip on the boy's thin hand tightened, and Harry whimpered in response.
"That's right boy, say your thing!"
Frowning with concentration, Harry tried hard to decide exactly which spell or curse he wanted to use. He did not want to survive this day, but clearly he was going to have to do something.
"Obscuro" he sighed, touching the tip of his wand to the site. Skin magically appeared over the shreds of flesh that were his inner wrist. In less than a minute, it looked as good as new. Pleased at the result, Vernon let go of Harry's hand and moved the wand to his left, then went through the procedure again.
"Better. Don't bloody well waste time trying to do that again. I guarantee you will not succeed, and I WILL make you so sorry that you ever tried. I want you out of my house by this time tomorrow. My son and wife don't need to deal with this crap from you, and neither do I. I don't care where you go, what happens to you; if you rot in the streets or return to those freaks you call friends. Just get the hell out of my life." With that, Vernon slammed the door behind him, leaving Harry light-headed and stunned in his wake.
When Harry opened his eyes again, he was shocked to see his wand on the bed beside him. Quite an oversight on Vernon's parts really. quite a good one. Picking it up, he waved it over the soiled bedclothes and the stains disappeared leaving the sheets and pajamas looking like new. Pleased at the result, Harry tried sitting up, found that he could, and went to the loose floorboard to eat the last piece of chocolate cake that Mrs Weasley had sent him for his birthday. The sweetness cleared his head and powered him up, and he thought about being able to finally leave this place. What a relief.
Harry would also rather that he rotted in the gutters than stay under this roof one more night. If only Hedwig had returned, it would be a lot simpler to leave and contact his friends. But then, he never really knew if they were his friends or not, maybe they just liked the fame of hanging out with Harry bloody famous Potter, riding on the coattails of his unwanted fame. On second thought, he preferred to do whatever he would on his own, no strings attached. To die alone, free to move onto the next journey or just to slide into an eternal sleep, no sorrow, no emotions, just nothing, emptiness.
Feeling much better at that idea, he gathered his meager belongings into a satchel; he didn't bother with his trunk, since he would not be requiring his school robes ever again. Hearing sirens blaring down the street, and briefly wondering whether Dudley had actually called an ambulance, Harry swung his feet out of bed, slowly stood up, and finding the bedroom door to be unlocked, walked down the stairs and out the front door while the Dursleys continued arguing in the kitchen at the back of the house. 'Vernon has no idea what a great favor he's done for me." Harry smiled to himself. "This is going to be ridiculously easy.
"Get up, you lazy little son of a bitch!"
Vernon was hammering on Harry's door, shaking with outrage to find that his place at the kitchen table had NOT been set, there had been NO breakfast made, and the coffee pot was COLD! Dudley was sniveling away down in the kitchen, Petunia was flying into pendantics about how her son would starve to death (even Vernon had snorted at this), and he would now be late for another day of explaining to his boss why no one wanted to buy drill bits right now. Just fantastic, the boy would pay for this, and dearly.
"I want and answer, you insolent deadbeat! Get up and get out here right now." With that, Dursley fired a well aimed kick at the base of the door, which splintered at the impact. " Look what you made me do now!" he snarled in outrage, snapping open all of the locks on the outside of the jam and flinging the door open into the room beyond.
"You're gonna pay now, boy." He smirked as he pushed his considerable self into the dim room, stalking over to the small bed in the corner where he could see the shape of his wife's sister's son curled up in a ball.
He reached over to grab the slight shoulder, the boy huddled facing towards the wall. It was strange, the boy would usually just stare at him when addressed, looking at Vernon as if HE were the anomaly. This simply made the outraged male the more violent. Wrenching the boy over, he stood for a moment in shock at what he beheld there. the sheets were literally soaked in blood, as was the boys clothing.. The razor blade still grasped in his now still hand. The only way that Vernon could tell the boy was still alive (though how much he didn't know) was by the way the wisp of long hair that fell over his face moved every so often as he breathed.
"Bloody Hell! How am I supposed to explain this? What did you go and do now! Wake up, ingrate!" His beefy hand stung as he slapped the boy hard across the face, instantly drawing another bruise there. He waited a moment, and there was no movement or response, so he drew back and dealt him another one. With that, the boy groaned and shifted slightly.
"Petunia!!!" Vernon hollered at the top of his lungs. "PETUNIA!!!!!"
"Vern?" she called from downstairs.
"Petunia! Bring up the Freak's bloody wand from under the stairs. He's hauled off and tried to doff himself under our roof, and now he can go ahead and fix himself up. I'm not taking him to a hospital; it would be far too much effort. Bloody hassle," He muttered to himself.
"Did you hear that boy?" He yelled again, directly into Harry's ear. "You're going to fix your own mess!!! I'm not going to let you die, as much as I would love it if someone else went ahead and killed you. You want to die, go and do it at that Ruddy School for Freaks you love so much - Warthog's or whatever the hell you call it. But you're not going to kill yourself here." With that, he reached over and wrapped his hands in the blanket and the end of the bed and clamped his hands over the still oozing wounds.
"I wouldn't want to get your tainted blood on me. Disgusting display. you're little friends will be right proud of you I'm sure!"
Harry's aunt came rushing into the room, a tea towel around her hand so as not to actually touch the horrible stick in her hands.
"Here." She held it out; as if afraid it might spin round and bite her.
"BOY!" Vernon hollered. "BOY! Here's your ruddy wand! Now perform some magic trick on your arms to make them stop bleeding this instant!"
Harry tried in vain to open his eyes, trying to remember what had happened, why he felt so exhausted and weak. Had it been Voldemort? His uncle's words had seemed confusing and muddled, and he hadn't grasped the meaning behind them. His musings were cut short by another Thump to his face.
"Dad?" Dudley had appeared at the door, the expression on his face making him look like an ox. "What's the matter Dad, what's he gone and done this time?" Dudley stepped in further to get a better look, and was pulled out of his stupidity by the sight that met him.
"Harry! Harry's dead! Dad finally killed him! We've got to call an ambulance!" Dudley spun and his heel and lumbered out of the room.
"Don't you dare, Dudley! PETUNIA! GO and stop him, quick! We don't want the authorities to find out - what a disgrace!"
"Dudikins! Dudikins, darling. it's OK, Daddy has everything under control. Harry isn't dead, he just did something stupid. Just go and play on the computer honey!"
Dudley stopped at the top of the staircase, confused. Harry needed help, that much was clear, and it was very clear that Daddy DID NOT have everything under control right now. For the first time in his life, he did the right thing.
"Fine then, Mommy." He answered subserviently, and then crept down the stairs to phone the authorities.
Meanwhile, Vernon had placed the wand into Harry's hand, and pointed it at the opposite wrist.
"Say your mumbo-jumbo, boy. Say it and seal these cuts. Do it now or I'll really hurt you!" The grip on the boy's thin hand tightened, and Harry whimpered in response.
"That's right boy, say your thing!"
Frowning with concentration, Harry tried hard to decide exactly which spell or curse he wanted to use. He did not want to survive this day, but clearly he was going to have to do something.
"Obscuro" he sighed, touching the tip of his wand to the site. Skin magically appeared over the shreds of flesh that were his inner wrist. In less than a minute, it looked as good as new. Pleased at the result, Vernon let go of Harry's hand and moved the wand to his left, then went through the procedure again.
"Better. Don't bloody well waste time trying to do that again. I guarantee you will not succeed, and I WILL make you so sorry that you ever tried. I want you out of my house by this time tomorrow. My son and wife don't need to deal with this crap from you, and neither do I. I don't care where you go, what happens to you; if you rot in the streets or return to those freaks you call friends. Just get the hell out of my life." With that, Vernon slammed the door behind him, leaving Harry light-headed and stunned in his wake.
When Harry opened his eyes again, he was shocked to see his wand on the bed beside him. Quite an oversight on Vernon's parts really. quite a good one. Picking it up, he waved it over the soiled bedclothes and the stains disappeared leaving the sheets and pajamas looking like new. Pleased at the result, Harry tried sitting up, found that he could, and went to the loose floorboard to eat the last piece of chocolate cake that Mrs Weasley had sent him for his birthday. The sweetness cleared his head and powered him up, and he thought about being able to finally leave this place. What a relief.
Harry would also rather that he rotted in the gutters than stay under this roof one more night. If only Hedwig had returned, it would be a lot simpler to leave and contact his friends. But then, he never really knew if they were his friends or not, maybe they just liked the fame of hanging out with Harry bloody famous Potter, riding on the coattails of his unwanted fame. On second thought, he preferred to do whatever he would on his own, no strings attached. To die alone, free to move onto the next journey or just to slide into an eternal sleep, no sorrow, no emotions, just nothing, emptiness.
Feeling much better at that idea, he gathered his meager belongings into a satchel; he didn't bother with his trunk, since he would not be requiring his school robes ever again. Hearing sirens blaring down the street, and briefly wondering whether Dudley had actually called an ambulance, Harry swung his feet out of bed, slowly stood up, and finding the bedroom door to be unlocked, walked down the stairs and out the front door while the Dursleys continued arguing in the kitchen at the back of the house. 'Vernon has no idea what a great favor he's done for me." Harry smiled to himself. "This is going to be ridiculously easy.