By CharizardRulzCyborg009Wolf
This is the Prologue.
Warnings: Non-con (rape), one bad word, Alternate universe
Rating: M
Pairing: None
Genre: Angst/Tragedy, AU, general
Notes: In this chapter, there is rape, as it says up there . If you don't like it, you shouldn't be reading this story. I have added rape to this story because I see it as a way for some to overcome other feelings, and it will help our favourite characters come together. So please, don't sue, and if you have any questions, comments, flames, etc, that you wouldn't like to write in a review, feel free to contact me on cc009wolf gmail . com (take out the spaces). I do accept flames.
Disclaimer: >insert standard disclaimer note here
Harry Potter wept helplessly. He couldn't help it, and right now, he was in too much pain to even try and stop. The Boy-Who-Lived was in his 'bedroom', a.k.a, the cupboard. And, he had just been beaten. Quite severely. All he had done was accidentally drop a plate he had been washing because his hands were slippery, and his hand had been hurting badly from a previous beating.
But of course, the plate had smashed all over the kitchen floor, and his Uncle had lugged his massive bulk into the kitchen had that very moment. Well, he had been yelled at by his Uncle, scolded at by his Aunt, laughed at by his cousin, and then taken upstairs and beaten terribly. Today's weapon: the belt.
Some may think that the belt isn't that good a weapon, try having it with your hands tied in front of you, a gag in your mouth, your legs being crushed under said Uncle, and absolutely no clothes on. Harry thought he had gotten away relatively well. Nothing serious had happened. Except, of course, a lot of blood lost, deep gashes, a suspected concussion, and perhaps a broken rib, or two.
Harry's life hadn't always been that bad. Perhaps it was Voldemort's influence. After all, the psychopath had come back not a month before. Then he had been carted back off to the Dursley's. Maybe his magic was influencing his relatives in some horrible way. However, Harry doubted that was the case, after all, why have your ultimate enemy, the one that always thwarted your plans and got in the way, and the only one stopping you from taking over the wizarding world, beaten by his relatives, when you could simply come and dispose of him quickly?
Either way, Harry doubted it. He lent back slightly against the wall, grimacing at the sharp pain in his chest, and gave a short sigh, not wanting to upset his injuries too much. There wasn't much he could do. His wand, books, trunk, everything, was locked in the second bedroom, as was Hedwig, and he really hoped she was getting fed. He couldn't use magic, or he would be expelled from Hogwarts, and he'd do anything not to be expelled from said school.
All he could do was sit, and bear it, and hope someone would check up on him soon. Harry doubted that, too.
Dumbledore must be really stupid or something, Harry had decided, because surely, surely, he had noticed his Gryffindor's Golden Boy's horrid living styles? Harry almost knew the Headmaster did, because how else would Dumbledore have known that Harry lived in the cupboard when he received his first letter?
A creak on the stairs above him interrupted Harry's musings. The person was slowly going down the stairs, indicating to Harry that whoever it was didn't want to be found out by the rest of them. It was rather late, eleven or twelve at night, Dudley probably coming down to eat something else, but the chilling thought of Vernon made him freeze.
Silence reigned for a moment, then the lock of the cupboard creaked slightly as it was unlocked. Harry made a sharp intake of breath, and shut his eyes tightly. His heart thudded in his chest, and he knew who it was. Mainly because Dudley wouldn't open his cupboard at that time of night.
"You better keep your mouth shut, boy."
Harry gulped. His Uncle had decided to bestow his presence upon his nephew. Harry wanted to pull, to fight back, but couldn't, for a few reasons. Mainly the fact the he was in severe pain, others were things like his Uncle would hurt him even more than what he already would.
Vernon had pushed his way into the small cupboard, a feat Harry had to wonder at despite the circumstances. Harry was trembling, but he knew there was nothing he could do to prevent it.
Before anything else could be said, Vernon gripped Harry's neck tightly, and pulled him forward slightly, his beady eyes glaring hatefully at Harry as said boy let out a whimper in pain.
"Shut up," he hissed. "You deserve everything you get, and you get punishment for destroying things Petunia and I have allowed you to use."
Still holding Harry's neck in one hand, Vernon used the other to undo his own pyjama pants, and take them off. Harry hadn't had the strength to climb into his own earlier on. Now shaking in terror, and with his eyes closed, Harry felt Vernon pushed him roughly down, and then climb on top of him.
Harry wanted to scream, but didn't allow himself to, as Vernon removed his hand. Mainly because his Uncle would punish him terribly for it.
Vernon positioned himself, and Harry, so the Boy-Who-Lives' hands were held tightly in one of his Uncle's own. Before Harry had even realised what had happened (even though he had expected it), Vernon had pushed forcibely inside him, using his fat mouth to smother Harry's anticipated scream.
Harry gritted his teeth in pain, even as tears started to stream down his face. On top of him, Vernon was grunting in pleasure as he teared his nephew apart. Not that that had ever bothered him before.
Vernon pulled back, waited half a second, and then shoved back in again. Harry could feel the blood beginning to slide down his abused skin, and knew he had to get away. Not even knowing how, just that he had to.
Harry bit his lip to keep from making a sound, as Vernon continued to rape him, forcibly invading him, again and again.
Finally, Vernon grunted loudly, but not loud enough for anyone else to hear, and he came, pumping his seed deep inside Harry. He slumped on Harry for a moment, before pulling away and making a sort of lazy, pleased smiled that made Harry want to hurl.
"I hope that that was enough for the time being for you to realise your… errors. Tomorrow, I'm dealing with you like I should have done years ago."
With that, he left, locking Harry's cupboard after him. Harry was really too tired, and self-loathing, even without the pain, to really comprehend what his Uncle had said. So, not really caring, and really trying not to think at how dirty he was, Harry lay back, and shut his tightly, wishing someone would come and save him.
It took many long minutes, but he finally gave into the darkness that was tired sleep, but only nightmares greeted him.
"Boy!"
Harry jumped awake, and instantly wished he hadn't. He bit his lip to keep from crying out, as his injuries were disturbed. He was disorientated, and couldn't remember why he was in just that much pain.
But then the memories came back.
He instantly wished they hadn't, or that he hadn't woken up, or his Uncle hadn't woken him. Wait… Why had his Uncle woken him?
"Boy! Get your sorry arse out here now!"
Then Harry heard a little chuckle, and he knew his Uncle was marvelling at his word phrasing. Shaking his head, and quickly stopping, deciding it hurt too much, he stood slightly. When he was just shy of hitting the roof, he pulled on his pants and a too large shirt, before walking out to face his relatives.
"About time, boy!" Harry flinched slightly, but noticed his Uncle was extremely happy this morning, more happy than usual, even after raping his nephew. Harry's head had begun to ache, from the nightmares the night before, of Voldemort and Cedric.
"Hurry up and make breakfast!" Vernon shouted, and Harry immediately decided today was not going to be a good day, even by his usual standards of the Dursley's.
Not complaining in the least, he began making the standard bacon and eggs, being careful not to burn them, despite his injuries. He was then forced to sit at the table as his family ate their breakfast with abandon while he got none. He had never gotten breakfast in the last year or so while at the Dursley's, so that wasn't a problem.
The problem was the looks his Uncle continued to shoot at him while Petunia wasn't looking. It made him uneasy. They were happy, and almost predatoral.
When breakfast was finally done, he made to clear away the dishes, but Vernon stopped him.
"No, Dudley, you clear away the dishes today." He said cheerfully, and Harry stared at him in shock.
"But Dad –" Dudley started in indignation.
"Dudley, clear away the dishes." Vernon said forcefully before turning to Harry. "You will be coming with me."
Harry blinked, knowing his Uncle was up to something. Uncle Vernon had never, never wanted him, Harry, the Freak, 'Boy', to come with him, to where ever it was. A little shocked, and more than a little suspicious, he followed his Uncle through the hallway, past his cupboard, waited while Vernon kissed his Aunt on the cheek before marching through the front door way.
Harry followed him, and climbed into the passenger seat, as his Uncle indicated, and buckled in as Vernon walked around the side and climbed in the driver's seat.
Harry dared not ask anything as Vernon started up the car, backed out of the driveway, then started down the street.
The drive was silent, and Harry found it mildly disturbing and extremely uncomfortable. They stopped at a set of lights, and Vernon turned slightly to him.
"Do you know where we're going, Harry?" Harry was scared now, for many reasons. One, Vernon had called him 'Harry', another because he had absolutely no idea where they were going, and Vernon's tone indicated he wouldn't like it.
Harry shook his head. Vernon smirked next to him, and Harry found the expression on his Uncle's face extremely ugly. Without warning, Vernon lashed out at him, striking Harry's already aching head, and darkness overcame him, again.
Vernon smirked to himself, and threw Harry's body down to the ground. He rubbed his hands together, then kicked Harry hard, before turning back to his car. They were in a quiet part of town, and a very bad area. Vernon was actually hoping something, or someone, would come and simply kill his nephew, after torturing him, of course.
How he hated Harry Potter, and his freakiness.
Now, the boy was finally out of his hair. For good. Bloody finally.
As he turned his car on, and moved out of the dark, and dank alley, he didn't even notice the figure in the shadows. As soon as the car was out of sight, the figure stealthily moved to Harry's prone form, and looked him over.
A second past, then mismatched blue and hazel eyes locked onto Harry's famous lightning bolt scar, and a smirk flickered over the scarred face.
Couldn't resist leaving a cliffie. Tell me what you think? Once again, if you have any problems or anything, e-mail me, ne?
CharizardRulzCyborg009Wolf