'Trials and Tribulations'
9/17/04 - Don't own 'em- Enjoy ze story! HP/DM. Review?
What was so special about The Boy-Who-Lived or The Boy-Who-Refused-To-Die?
Maybe it's not as most people think he's clinging to life; mayhaps he's actually rejecting death and isn't so tenaciously attached to life. Do you think that is so?
With some intervention, we shall soon all know the answer and maybe there will be love as well. Who knows, but first our hero (or heroes of the story) will have to go through trials and tribulations before things can become as smooth as the sky line above a mountain peak.
Oh Harry, Harry, Harry.. How life has been cruel. He has yet to endure a new package and maybe you, as the reader, can sympathize his pain and hope for the best that is to most definitely come.
Harry never knew there would be such a turn of events, nor would he expect it. He was forced to work outside in the garden, and he was doing such that, pulling weeds out of his Aunt's garden, even if his hands were growing raw from the stems being dragged across in a rough fashion. Sitting on his legs, Harry grunted as there was a particularly strong milk weed rooted to the ground. Why on the muffin's crumb were there milk weed in the garden?
Frowning, he tugged and tugged til he tumbled backwards, but something else went along with the weed. Apparently, Harry had gotten a strong hold of his Aunt's particularly hard to grow, single-petaled, white rose that was bred with nearly no thorns.
'Wizard Crap.' Harry was screwed and he knew it.
He tried and tried to get it back, and he did his best to re-plant it, but unfortunately, his deed had been indeed discovered. Luckily, it wasn't his Aunt Petunia. Unfortunately, it was his Uncle Vernon. Correct- drunk Uncle Vernon. Harry had never had to deal much with the wrath of this drunkard, always trying his best to keep from his way, but there was no way to escape this. The only thing he could do was steel himself for the worst.
"Mongrel!" Vernon slurred, "Look what you did!" The muggle spoke 'you' with as much venom as one probably could load into one word. Making his way with his fat fingers soon snatching Harry's collar, he grabbed the wizard by the shirt, dragging him through the front door that was opened by Harry's piggy cousin.
"I'll teach you a lesson about pulling your weight around this house!"
Harry was thinking, sarcastically of course, that he was the only one who did the work around this house. Though, he didn't have much time to dwell on the thoughts. Uncle Vernon threw Harry into his cupboard of a bedroom floor, his belt in his hand. "Don't you ever make a mistake again!" Rage burned into those piggy, beady eyes as he raised the leather belt and let it come thrashing down onto Harry, metal buckle and all.
The teen curled into a tight ball, protecting himself as much as he could from the onslaught. To his dismay, he couldn't keep every blow off and his back stung. He had welts along side, and even had some blood trickling through the now torn shirt.
"You dirty scum. Just like your father." That lit a fire from underneath Harry's feet, so much that he found the strength to stand and opened his mouth to retort, but Vernon's bulky fist came crashing down on the crown of his head, knocking blackness into Harry's eyes.
The next time Harry woke up, he was on the cold floor of his bedroom. Carefully sitting up, Harry gingerly rubbed a side. "Bloody hell.." Well, that was something he'd categorize 'a beating of a life time'. Crawling to the bed, he curled onto that and closed his eyes. Once he got the Hogwarts, everything will be better.