Chapter II

Harry was lying on his bed, a hand protectively covering his ribs. Vernon must have broken one or two when he had kicked Harry, because every breath brought pain.

Vernon... Wait when did this happen.

All his life Harry had called the man 'Uncle Vernon' but now every time in his mind there was only Vernon; then again why call a man who would inflict pain on you uncle? It was a term of affection or at least respect and that was something his 'uncle' did not deserve.

*****

Several hours passed as the house grew quiet and the sky dark. Harry heard beds squeak as Vernon and Dudley went to bed.

His stomach growled, he hadn't eaten for more then 24 hours and felt the necessity.

As his aunt and uncle had always underfed him Harry was used to sneaking downstairs to eat just a little more. Not too much though, because his relatives would notice.

With practised steps Harry went downstairs, avoiding every floorboard and step that might give him away.

Quietly he walked into the kitchen and to the refrigerator. It was filled with ready-to-go microwave meals. Apparently Aunt Petunia hadn't been cooking for some time now.

Harry fixed himself a sandwich and a glass of milk and ate them. His hunger although not sated was at least lessened and he dare not take more.

Not wanting to go back to bed and his nightmares, Harry walked in to the living room and froze.. Aunt Petunia was still lying on the couch and was looking straight at him.

Not daring to stir, Harry waited for his aunt's next move, but she just kept staring at him.

"Aunt Petunia?" Harry whispered.

Her eyes shot up to his and for the first time it became clear how unfocused her gaze was. It was as if she was having difficulty keeping her eyes locked on one point and had to continually refocus.

"James... James is that you?" his aunt said with a slur. "Have you finally come to take me away? I knew it was me you loved, not Lily. I'm sorry for marrying Vernon but I was pregnant, I had no choice."

Harry was shocked beyond belief. What was she saying? Did she believe him to be his father? And had she been in love with his father? This was not something she would have normally said; it must be the medicine she was taking.

Feeling something between disgust and pity he slowly moved towards his aunt.

Standing next to her he was thinking about what to do next when suddenly she grabbed his right hand. "James....?" From this close up, Harry saw that his aunt's wrists were bandaged.

"No Aunt Petunia, it's me. Harry"

"Harry...? I know that name," Aunt Petunia said, her voice unsteady, eyes still unfocused.

"GET AWAY FROM HER, YOU FREAK," Harry heard a voice behind him bellow.

As he turned around Vernon charged Harry like a mad bull and punched him in the face. Harry fell back and hit the back of his head against the coffee table standing next to the couch. Everything went black.....

****

When Harry woke up he was back in his room. Not only the back of his head hurt but also his nose. it felt broken. His lower back hurt as well; Vernon must have dragged him up here not bothering to lift him.

Slowly Harry stood, not sure of his own footing. He was still a little dizzy. Just as Harry was getting his bearings back the door opened and Vernon stepped in. He looked at Harry and for the first time Harry feared for his very life.

"Now you're going to pay, boy." With an expression that could only be described as a combination between anger, hate and ecstasy Vernon lazily punched Harry in the face again, throwing him back against the wall. The wind was knocked out of Harry and he saw stars before his eyes.

Before he could fall to the ground Vernon grabbed Harry by the throat holding him up, preventing him from falling. "I've been wanting to do this for a long, long time." Vernon's voice was low but had an excited quality to it. Still holding Harry up, Vernon proceeded to hit Harry were he could. The face came first.

Although he was fighting it, Harry couldn't prevent a whimpering sound coming from his mouth. This seemed to only further Vernon's excitement and he was hitting Harry harder and harder. Vernon was now hitting Harry all over.

After a succession of blows Harry felt something snap in his side. A sharp pain followed. Was this how a broken rib felt? If so, it was far worse then he had first assumed, this was nothing compared to before. Every breath was agony, like something sharp stabbed him every time he took a breath.

This was however, not enough for Vernon and he continued without mercy.

Harry kept hoping to lose consciousness but some how Vernon knew just what to do and what not to do, to keep him from this release of pain.

Harry was now sure he had several broken ribs and his arm felt like it was broken as well after what seemed like hours of beating. He was now half sitting, half lying on the floor, not able to keep himself up.

Vernon showed no sign of tiring from his game and still had a look of glee and enjoyment on his face, sweat poring all over it.

"You know boy, I've been wanting to do this for years but I always thought I wouldn't get away with it. Those freaks of yours wouldn't like it, I always thought. But they don't care about you do they? Why else would they have sent you back here? They want you as little as we do," Vernon taunted

Why had Dumbledore sent him back here? His uncle must be right.. they didn't want him and who could blame them, everyone around him was a target for Voldemort.

While contemplating this Harry wasn't paying attention to Vernon and didn't see the kick to the kidneys coming. Pain seared through his body and he slumped to the ground. "Oh is ickle Harrykins hurt?" Vernon said in a mocking, sickly sweet tone. "Is little Harry tired?" Vernon was circling around him. "I thought you were this big bad hero? You can't even keep yourself upright."

With that Vernon left the room but before the door closed Harry distinctly heard: "we'll continue this tomorrow."

*****

In the next few days a pattern emerged. Mornings and afternoons Vernon would go to work and Harry was able to rest as was possible through his nightmares, but as soon as Vernon was home the beatings would continue.

After a few hours there was a break for dinner and some TV on Vernon's part; some bread and water for Harry, some leftovers if he was lucky. Harry learned to eat quickly. Vernon kicked the bowl with leftovers -which was precious sustenance to Harry- if he thought Harry was taking to long, spraying the food around the room. Hunger brought Harry to eating it anyway. Water was even scarcer then food.

Harry was only let out of his room to use the bathroom once every morning and evening; Vernon had announced that this was only because he didn't want to suffer the stench.

At the end of the evening Vernon would return and inflict pain on Harry for another hour and then turn in for bed. Dudley was never in sight. Harry thanked Merlin for small favours

After the first day Vernon had also put up some more boards in Harry's room but now not only on the windows but on the walls, floor and ceiling as well. He didn't want anyone to hear Harry scream; anyone, except himself that was. Vernon thoroughly enjoyed Harry's screams.

He also got more inventive in hurting Harry, not only beating him, but using other methods to.

Harry fully expected to die when Vernon did not relent. but strangely enough this did not happen. Vernon was talented in the art of torture but where he had learned or even why Harry could not fathom.

He was always careful to inflict a maximum of pain without endangering Harry's life; he kept him floating on the edge. It was driving Harry towards the brink of insanity.

*****

On what Harry reckoned was the fourth day Vernon came into his room and said in a menacing tone: "Today were going to try something different. You see I've found out something very interesting about this."

To Harry's utter amazement Vernon pulled out his wand.

"I was holding this thing yesterday and thought about what I was going to do to you later. Guess what happened..?" Vernon had an evil grin on his face. "No? No guess? Too bad. I'll tell you what happened. Something, a spark of some kind, shot from the tip much like before. Now, I'm guessing here, but I think that spark will do something to the person it happens to hit. I'm willing to try, are you?"

Without waiting for an answer Vernon pointed Harry's own wand at him and intensely whispered: "pain."

Pain shot through Harry's body as the small boy fell to the floor and convulsed. He felt his muscles spasm and go rigid; he screamed his throat raw but to no avail.

It was not as bad as the Cruciatus curse but it was bad enough.

Slowly the pain subsided and Harry's body went slack. Tears were streaming down his face, tears from pain and tears of joy simply because the pain was subsiding.

"That hurt, didn't it?" someone whispered in his ear. It was Vernon. He had stepped closer to better observe Harry in his suffering. "Well, I think we can do a lot better. Pain!" Vernon said now with more intensity.

Pain shot through Harry's body once more, even worst then before. Harry would have done anything to stop this pain. He would beg, kill, and crawl to end this pain. He howled, screamed and could not contain the tears that were pouring from his eyes.

As the pain continued Harry lost control of his bladder, adding insult to injury.

Then suddenly the pain was gone again. The lack of sensations brought its own sort of painful bliss.

"You didn't like that, did you freak?" Vernon's voice still a deadly whisper.

Vernon started ranting about what he was going to do to Harry, but his words went unnoticed.

Harry was totally disgusted with himself. The complete and utter feeling of disgust was for his willingness to do anything at all to stop the pain. His lack of control

Harry realized that he might feel this way but he also realised that there was nothing he could do to stop the pain.

Vernon was not doing this to gain something, this was for pure pleasure.

He would go mad soon. It was unavoidable if he was continually tortured.

He remembered the story of Neville's parents.

Harry wanted nothing more right then and there then to see his friend again. Ron and Hermione. Sirius his godfather, he could protect Harry. Molly Weasley who would shelter Harry in her arms. Others flashed before Harry's eyes: Dumbledore, Professor Lupin, Mr. Weasley and many others. Right now he'd be happy to see Voldemort; that would be a relative quick death.

But none of them were there.

None of them could protect Harry. He had to do it himself.

Escaping was not an option, nor was overpowering Vernon. The only way out was into his mind.

Harry wanted to lock away the very core of his being into a separate space he created in his mind: his feelings for his friends, the magic within him, his values, beliefs and all that which made him Harry; which made him the person he was.

That part of him he decided was something Vernon would never touch; would never corrupt.

The only way that space would open he decided, was when he saw his friends again, Ron and Hermione together. He knew that then he would be safe again.

He also knew it was probably a futile gesture, but it was all he could do.

Pain surged through Harry's body once more; he had not been paying enough attention to Vernon. It was more intense then both previous times.

Again Harry was yelling and screaming, begging Vernon to stop, that he would do anything. The only reaction was laughter on Vernon's part, the laughter of a madman.

Again and again pain surged through Harry's body. Only hours later did sweet release come. The world turned black.

*****

Again a pattern emerged. Morning and afternoons Vernon would be at work and after work he would come into Harry's room and inflict pain.

The difference was that now that he was using a wand, Vernon could alter the level of pain used and take it to new heights.

Vernon discovered new techniques every day. He would use the wand to simply induce pain through the nerves. Another time he discovered he could trail the wand on Harry's skin and create blisters which immediately burst open. The sweat that burned the wounds when it came into contact with them was only a minor nuisance compared to the rest. Pushing the wand to Harry's ribs and then turning it with a quick gesture while muttering "break" broke Harry's ribs.





Rest during the day was also fleeting for Harry was once more having visions of Voldemort. Voldemort killing and torturing Muggles and wizards alike. Voldemort in conclave with his Death Eaters. Voldemort doing acts of magic, involving rituals so disgusting, that in a way they were hurting Harry as badly as Vernon's torture.

Day after day the magic used by Vernon was more intense and as time progressed more subtle, for Vernon's skill grew as did Harry's tolerance for pain.

Instead of his whole body, Harry sometimes felt pain only in his limbs or other body parts making the pain different because it was not all encompassing; leaving his conscious mind to concentrate on it. Harry's screams continued.

Sometimes Vernon would beat Harry just for entertainment purposes. He specifically liked to break Harry's ribs (or after a while- keep them broken) so as to make every breath agony.



*****

Harry felt something grow in him as time passed. It was like a white light coming from the hidden depths of his mind. It was there every time he wanted to rebel against Vernon, when he had just enough energy left to be angry or feel hatred.

Whenever Harry tried to seize it, it would flow away from him like water would through his hands. After several fruitless attempts Harry gave up and decided just to let it be. It felt familiar and he was convinced it was not dangerous especially compared to Vernon. It was always there, at times more clearly, stronger, but always there. Harry could never reach it.

Harry lost the concept of time. Days followed night and afternoons followed mornings in a meaningless succession. Harry dreaded each afternoon for this was when Vernon came. Exhaustion, pain, hunger, thirst, fear, anger and helplessness were his constant companions.

Not once did Vernon show mercy. Quite the contrary; whenever Harry showed weakness he became more brutal. It was as if he lived for the times when Harry would scream just that much more, when Harry would collapse or when he would beg. Harry soon learned to avoid al these things, to manage the pain. Vernon only learned how to inflict more pain. It was a constant struggle, a vicious circle. Every battle took more and more out of Harry, leaving him weaker for it.

One day Vernon came in to his room but Harry was now too weak to even cower in a corner, even to tired to roll up in to a foetal position for the little protection it gave, he could only lie there.

"This game is coming to an end I think," Vernon said in a solemn voice that changed to a mixture of sadism and excitement as he continued, "but I have on last thing I want to try."

Vernon touched the wand to Harry's scar; he had a look of anticipation and delight on his face. Through the fog that enveloped his consciousness Harry felt dread and relief all in one.

Viciously Vernon whispered: "Pain."

A scream came from Harry, it was the scream of a wounded animal on the brink of death, there was nothing human left about it.

The world started to go black for Harry, final release was at hand and he was grateful; but somewhere he heard a voice that sounded as a scream but seamed quiet and coming from a great distance: "NOOOO, HARRY!!!!!!"

Then Nothing.