Chapter Three

Note: Sorry this hasn't been updated since, well I can't remember, not too long ago, but I've just been busy so, here's chapter three! This chapter gets pretty damn gruesome but doesn't go into a territory that I'd mark it M.

Also Note: Wow, totally surprised at how this fic already picked up, glad people are enjoying them.

Harry knew this was going to be a horrible beginning of his summer already, as Uncle Vernon's company was doing amazing. To most, that's a good thing, but Harry knew this would just give Vernon the idea to beat Harry just because he felt powerful. As he expected, within the first night Vernon was practically breaking down his door. Harry had been screaming in his sleep, most likely about Vernon, and Vernon didn't feel like dealing with it.

Harry didn't even realize he wasn't dreaming until he felt a few of his bottom right ribs cave in at the blow of the Smeltings stick and felt a sudden about of air deplete from his lungs. He was then his on his cheek and then on the knee. After this, Vernon decided that using the Smeltings rod was too, not satisfying. Sure, it hurt way worse than the belt of Vernon's fists, but Vernon didn't get the satisfaction of hearing Harry shriek, because Harry was out cold after the blow to the cheek.

Vernon then proceeded to literally rip the shirt off of Harry, unbuckled his belt, and began to whip Harry with it. Harry awoke about half way through the beating begging for it to stop, but Vernon didn't until Harry either went numb or passed out, Vernon couldn't tell. This was interesting for Vernon, he could easily take advantage of Harry if he so desired, but he decided such a thing would be better if Harry was awake.

Harry laid there, feeling blood come from his back and, the wait was his eye bleeding too? That damned hit on the cheek must've stretched to his eye. He was awake, only pretending to be knocked out yet again until he realized that Vernon was still sitting there, think about something. A thought of horror came into Harry's mind as he pondered what Vernon was thinking about, which was cut short when Vernon gave him a final set of whippings, a few smacks just about everywhere with the Smeltings stick, and a kick to the nose before finally leaving Harry.

Harry just sat there, bleeding for about an hour and a half before he realized the condition of his lungs was quickly deteriorating, he needed help, or within a few days, he'd be dead. He pushed himself up, trying as hard as he could to suppress the agony-filled scream that ensued, and to his luck, it worked. All he needed to do was get a letter out to someone, the Weasleys, Hermione, or even someone at Hogwarts. He struggled through writing the letter, hell moving, in general, was a struggle, but after a good 45 minutes of agony, Hedwig was sent off with the letter. Now nothing mattered. At some point, someone would send help, as Hermione should be getting that letter soon, and if it were to take a bit longer, it still didn't matter as he'd probably feel the sweet relief of death, a freedom from his pain, and it would be over, because his uncle would've certainly killed him by then.

Hermione getting a letter from Harry would've been a shock in the first place, but now it was even more so, and she was terrified to open it, but opened it hastily. She was screaming at what she saw. "Hermione please I need help" was all that was written, and a splotch of blood on the bottom left corner of the paper, which was actually from Harry's bloody face crashing down on the paper from pure exhaustion. Thankfully she was staying at the Weasleys and attracted the attention of everyone at the house by her screaming.

Everyone rushed up the stairs, knowing that Hermione had gotten a letter from Harry and knowing that she was concerned about him. They all silently gathered around the letter, until they saw its contents. Arthur immediately prepared a rescue mission for Harry, floo-ing just about everyone who could help.

Harry now woke up on the floor, blood pooled around him. He knew this would cause him another beating. His heart raced as he heard footsteps race about the stairs, "BOY!" the voice shrieked. He was dead.