AN: believe it or not, i had trouble deciding on which way to write this out, as i don't really plan before i write it can be a little tricky.


Something had changed, Harry felt, when he returned from the shower and he wasn't entirely sure it as for his betterment. His blood splattered everywhere around the room had been cleaned to a degree but Harry spied his dear aunt holding still and not cleaning like he had thought she'd be.

Vernon too, Harry noticed, was not as visibly cowed as he had been before Harry's shower. In fact the bulbous man had a look on his face as if an epiphany had come to him.

The third member of the Dursley family was curiously absent but Harry paid that detail little mind, a fact that Harry would soon regret discarding.

"Why aren't you still cleaning?" Harry asked bluntly. Petunia stilled, shooting a glance at Vernon for the briefest moment. "Don't look at him, I asked you, Petunia. Why aren't you still cleaning?"

To Harry's surprise, when Harry took hold of his jagged blade in his hands to press them for the answer to his question Vernon's eye's gleamed with triumph, the next thing Harry knew he was being held in a limb lock from behind, his cousin holding him so tightly that his arm that held his knife made an audible crack as Dudley snapped it.

With a cry of pain Harry dropped his weapon, it wasn't a tremendous amount of pain, unlike the electrocution, but it stung like hell.

While wincing from the pain of his broken bone Harry was still able to see, and hear, the quick movements from his uncle, who dashed towards him and took hold of Harry's knife that lay discarded on the floor.

"You're not so tough without this, are you freak?" Vernon taunted, before placing it on the table next to him out of Harry's reach. Then he advanced on Harry, taking hold of Harry's unbroken arm.

"Dudley," the fat man called. "Open the freaks cupboard." The mini Vernon let go of Harry's broken limb and did as he was told, opening the cupboard wide for his dad.

With a beefy grunt of exertion, Vernon broke the arm he was holding onto and threw Harry into the cupboard.

"You might not be able to stay dead Freak, but you can't do anything in there without your little knife to get you out. And just to make sure…" with a feral smile on his face Vernon advanced on the prone form of Harry in the cupboard and stomped on Harry's lower limbs numerous times in different spots, breaking multiple bones in Harry's feet, ankles and knees.

Minutes later, when Vernon was satisfied that he had done enough damage he stood up, about to slam the cupboard shut, when Harry spoke up.

"You haven't thought this through well enough, have you Vernon? What are you going to do about the smell if I can't use the toilet?" Vernon's constipated look on his face as this fact registered in his mind sent Harry into gales of laughter. In retaliation, Vernon broke Harry's jaw and slammed the cupboard closed.

Returning to his wife, she had a disgusted look on her face, having overheard what Harry had said to Vernon.

"The Freak is right Vernon, what are we going to do about the smell?"

"I'm sure we'll think of something Pet. Now I'm going to dispose of this thing." Vernon said gesturing to Harry's knife. "Dudley, help your mother clean up this mess!" he shouted before stomping over to the draw with t-towels, wrapping the knife in several rolls of t-towels before stomping out the front door to his car with the rolled up knife with him.

He was going to chuck it in the river, or bury it somewhere.

o.o

A week had passed since then and the house had been efficiently cleaned of all traces of Harry's blood, some of it being very hard to clean up with it being on the roof of the kitchen, to the great ire of Petunia. Vernon had also gone to a hardware store and purchased various deadbolt locks and fastened them to the cupboard under the stairs and did everything he could think of to truly seal that cupboard up for good.

'The freak might not be able to die,' Vernon reasoned. 'But to live forever nowhere outside of there won't be a life worth living.'

Inside the cupboard, in the darkness, Harry had slowly been healing, his magic mending his many broken bones. With no food or water to replenish him however, it was taking a lot longer than it would normally take to fix everything that had been inflicted on him.

'I kind of wish I hadn't died from starvation of dehydration yet…' mentally groaned Harry as he tried his best to channel his magic to his injuries.

500 or so years ago this particular practice of learning to control ones magic without a focus, i.e. a wand, had been discontinued due to the high risk of magic overload which would leave the practitioner dead as a doornail, as the magic the user tried to channel became unstable and exploded killing the wizard or witch.

When this finally happened to Harry however, after the usual green flash of revival and no longer able to suffer magical backlash from magical overload Harry found that his magic sang when he tried to channel it.

So he began to practice, with no more backlash to worry about Harry was free to experiment with his magic to his heart's content. His first bit of magic to master was vanishing, he had a tonne of shit and piss to get rid of and it reeked.

Harry had actually lost track of how long he's been locked in the cupboard and actually had to give props to his uncle for concocting this 'lock Harry in the cupboard forever' idea, there was a way to deal with immortal beings after all.

Harry couldn't have told anyone how long it had taken him to learn to vanish his own excrement, because he honestly didn't know, with nothing but black to stare at constantly and the only thing reminding him of where he was exactly being the sounds of heavy people going up and down the stairs he had lost all track of time.

Then one day sometime later on, Harry woke up, smelling horrible from a build-up of body odour and realised, smacking himself in the face for not thinking of this earlier, that he could use magic to both get rid of his bad body stink and tell him what time and date it was.

So Harry spent an unknown amount of time learning these magical tricks wandlessly, actually quite, not happy exactly, but content with his current circumstance.

o.o

For Vernon and Petunia, life had been a little tricky at first after they had locked the Freak in the cupboard and locked it securely so it couldn't get out. They had spun an exorbitant tale about where it was to those that knew of its existence under their roof but after they managed to swindle the school they had been sending it to about its whereabouts, things had smoothed out pretty well.

Sure they didn't have a servant on call to do their every whim but Petunia and Vernon thought it was a small price to pay to be free from the terror of being under the beck and call of it and its freakishness.

And for a time they had even forgotten that they even had a freak locked up at all, with no noise or smell coming from the stairs, until Dudley came inside with the mail, and the adult Dursley's saw a heavy set envelope on the table with the rest of the daily mail.

Harry J Potter

The Cupboard Under the Stairs

Little Whinging

Surrey

"Those freaks are watching us!" shrieked Petunia, the letter bringing back to the forefront of their minds that they had it living under their roof. "They know where it is!"

Thus the flaw in Vernon's plan of locking Harry away in his cupboard finally revealed itself, they couldn't let it out or it would unleash unholy fire upon them, they couldn't move house because everything they had and knew (school, work, reputation) was in this area and they couldn't afford to move even if they wanted to; in locking Harry Potter away in the Cupboard under the stairs they had grounded themselves in eventual failure.

"Those people will come here looking if they don't get an answer for that." Petunia's voice trembled looking at the letter sitting ominously on the table in front of them.

"What are we going to do?" Petunia asked, distraught.

"I know what you can do." A voice echoed around them, making all 3 Dursley's blood freeze. "You can stand there and let me kill you." The covered up area around the cupboard under the stairs warped, Harry Potter emerging with ratty clothing and unruly shoulder length black hair.

"B-but how?"

"Magic." Harry answered, his hands sparking with power as he approached the Dursley family. "Something that you have given me lots of time to practice using... allow me to demonstrate."

"Please…have mercy!" Wailed Petunia, terrified of the power sparking from Harry's hand.

"I'm well passed mercy."

The house lit up, white light so strong it blinded those that looked towards it from the windows of Number 4 Privet Drive. The light, as bright as the sun, lasted for a whole minute before finally dying, revealing a family of three, two parents and one child, convulsing on the ground as if suffering an epileptic seizure.

Harry meanwhile had gone upstairs to the bathroom to wash himself, from what he got his magic to tell him, it was his birthday today, and he felt like washing away all the grime and sweat that magic simply could not vanish.

When he had finished and returned downstairs to the kitchen, where the Dursley's were still seizing, Harry picked up his letter and opened it, feeling a minute tingle of magic over the parchment as he broke the seal and read the letter's contents.

"We await your owl no later than… they don't think very far do they, these magical people, I can't send a reply by owl if I don't have one…idiots…honestly." Sparring a look at the, even now, still seizing relatives of his who now had blood running from their ears, eyes, nose and mouth.

Harry left for the Dursley parent's bedroom, there was sure to be money in there somewhere, and from the looks of this book list he was going to need it.

Returning to the kitchen after finding what he was looking for, he cast one final look to the family of three who were now twitching in steadily growing puddles of their own blood, before giving them a mock salute.

"If you do survive this, prey we never meet again or I'll make sure you won't live to see the end of the meeting." With that said and his pockets lined with stolen money and a Hogwarts letter, Harry departed 4 Privet Drive Little Whinging Surrey, for what he hoped was for the last time.


AN: Where will Harry go from here?

How will he get there?

What will he do?

Questions to be answered in a coming chapter of Birth of Doomsday.

If you have something you'd like to see happen, like a cause of death, post it in a review and i'll see what happens.

R&R