October 31, 1987
Death is an unavoidable constant - mostly feared, sometimes welcomed, and even fervently wished upon others. Countless eons filled with endless theories, but none can truly divine the mystery of what awaits those who die.
Miraculously that secret remains intact even whilst I savor a second chance at life.
The warring urges to yell in effervescent joy and whimper in debilitating pain almost distracted me from noticing the all too familiar dark, cramped confines of a cupboard beneath the stairs.
Poor Harry Bloody Potter, the beloved fictional tale following the heroic adventures of him and his friends never seemed so horrific. Weary of thinking any further on the consequences in inhabiting this body while the previous consciousness seems wholly absent left an unsettling fact rise to the surface. This little boy is heavily injured and there's no way it was self-inflicted.
Even now the sharp scent of blood, sweat, and urine lingered in the air. Combined with throbbing pain radiating all over this frail body paints a gruesome picture of the Dursley's tender loving care. Worse yet the vile perpetrators must not feel an ounce of remorse as only a monster could ignore or find pleasure as their nephew languishes in pain.
Life in a small, broken malnourished male child, but one capable of wielding magic.
At just the mere thought of magic, a warm feeling of comfort embraces me like reuniting with a close loved one. Without delay, I close my eyes to concentrate on the magic's distinct sensation and imagine it's warmth spreading across each injury. Low and behold it actually works, but within seconds of my jubilation the feeling retreats and is quickly replaced with overwhelming pain.
"Fuck, I should have known it wasn't going to be easy!"
Determined not to make the same mistake twice, I recall the previous sensation while also giving it purpose to heal. The underlying pain slowly, but surely abates until it disappears entirely.
"Thank goodness for small mercies!"
Having the power to self-heal is a massive boon, but it's certainly not instantaneous. The sunlight previously illuminating the small space is gone leaving absolute darkness and if the keen hunger pains are a sign, then properly fueling the body is a major element to performing magic. Ironically enough I've rid one pain and unwittingly opened myself to another.
A rush of vague memories cataloging each abusive instance in the fictional series creates a steely resolve to punish the Dursleys and seek justice for their victim.
Despite the bizarre unexplainable happenstance of waking up in an unfamiliar body and vicious fiends who are supposedly relatives doesn't extinguish my fervor from experiencing all the joys of life that I once took for granted. But first Vernon and Petunia Dursley will rue the day they ever thought child abuse acceptable.
No time to waste in planning their long overdue and just desserts.
"Hmm dessert, that's a fine place to start."