Big bad warnings for violence and child abuse there at the end.

Chapter Nine

July 29th

Nine months later.

Two months after Dumbledore's visit the Dursleys found a way around the spell.

Harry had been given Dudley's second room but he refused to stay in it. Petunia hadn't pushed the issue and Vernon had merely smirked. But life was much better anyway. He had enough food, proper food, each day. Petunia and Vernon forcefully refrained from noticing him at all but sometimes they couldn't help it. His chores had lessoned to practically nothing and now they had a Lucy, the maid who came in twice a week to do serious cleaning. The house wasn't as clean as Petunia liked it though and she would often clean it herself until late at night long after Vernon had retired.

School became more tolerable. For some reason Dudley had ceased to bully him there, although he still did at home, and life was much more pleasant. Even Professor Peter had relaxed his intense scrutiny of him after a few months had passed of Harry arriving on time and without wounds. For some reason Harry had forgiven him the slighted bit and had started doing the homework.

It might have been because he had nothing better to do. After all with no chores and no punishments one could only do so much reading before getting very bored. It really had nothing to do with the warm pleasant tickle that sat in his throat whenever around the professor. The whisper had said it was love but Harry had ignored it.

It had taken a bit for the magic Dumbledore had cast to settle in. Vernon hadn't believed it at first but as he had been so ill he hadn't been in the right health to test it. Petunia had seemed to believe it. She had ignored him for the first week, throwing herself into caring for her husband and doing the chores Harry no longer did. Dudley had found himself left to his own devices more or less but Harry discovered he didn't mind that at all. It seemed Dudley liked it best when he was by himself or off with friends. His friend's mums would often pick him up from school and drop him off just before supper.

Finally Vernon was better and he went back to work. He was still tired when he came home but he tolerated it and merely went to bed much earlier then he ever had before. It actually happed to be a fortnight before the magic was tested. It began, like most punishments did, with Dudley.

Dudley had been arriving later and later from school, muttering something about Piers and Pier's cousin Joe Barker. It seemed he had taken a liking to the freedom he had now that his mother was less occupied with him. Finally Dudley had arrived late for dinner.

Harry had been sitting at the dinner table since the second week and hadn't looked up when Dudley came in. He was curious but feeling Dudley's cheerful mood dim when Petunia started fussing over him made Harry respectfully ignore his cousin. Dudley heaped his plate with food and began shoveling it into his mouth. Harry had finally figured it out and had been appalled he hadn't noticed before. Dudley ate when he was upset. Sometime when bored but usually when he was upset. Harry hadn't really done much differently despite the change in the Dursley house hold. He still was quiet, did what he was told, and tried to remain unnoticed. For the first time in his memory he voluntarily brought himself to Dudley's attention.

"Bad day Dudley?" Harry had said quietly. He hadn't whispered it but it wasn't so loud as to provoke the reaction it got.

Dudley had paused in shock and stared at him a bite half way to his mouth. "Err, yeah."

Petunia had ignored Harry and made another fuss over Dudley. When Dudley's cheer started to sag a bit he spoke again.

"That test was hard, wasn't it?" The test had been spelling, but the words had been extra challenging that day.

"Yeah. Missed most of 'em." Dudley had actually put down his fork to answer. Using his napkin for the first time that evening he had wiped his mouth and took gulp of his water. For a few minutes he looked at his plate, frowning unhappily, before starting again. This time he ate much slower.

Harry had nodded sympathetically. "Yeah me too. Should have studied more."

Dudley snorted and Harry could feel the self recrimination making crumbs sit in his throat. "Yeah." Dudley had agreed.

While Harry's hatred of Professor Peter had lessoned somewhat it had not gone. He had made the mistake of believing that Dudley didn't like him also as he often complained about English class and it's teacher.

"Professor Peter's a right prat for not warning us." Harry muttered darkly. "Or at least teaching us better. It's a wonder he's lasted this long with such poor teaching skills."

It was the most Harry had ever said at one time to any of the Dursleys. He really should have known better. And with his new, err talent for feeling other's . . . well . . . feelings he had no excuse for what happened next.

"He's not a prat."

Harry had blinked. "He's not?"

Dudley's little hand had made a fist over his fork and Harry started to feel sharpness stab his throat. Dudley was getting angry. No Dudley was angry. "No he's not. He's a nice teacher. He" Here Dudley hesitated before continuing. "He's been helping me. I've been staying after and he's been tutoring me."

Petunia cooed and Vernon roughly said his Dudder's didn't need any help. Harry merely blinked. He should have known. Professor Peter hadn't been able to get at the Dursleys with Harry so he would use Dudley instead.

"Dudley," Harry began cautiously. "I'm not sure that he's really being nice." All three Dursleys had stopped and stared at him. "Don't you think its odd he's helping you now? He hasn't before."

Dudley frowned. "I asked him."

Harry shook his head. "Yeah but something is a bit off about him, don't you think? He can't really be that nice, Dudley"

Dudley's eyes grew hard. "Yeah he can. He just gets sick sometimes is all."

Harry grew alarmed. "Sick how? Does he act funny or anything when he's sick?"

Dudley frowned aggressively. "No. Look. Just cause your a stupid liar doesn't mean you can talk bad about him. I like him. He's nice. He tells me I'm smart and also tells me when I'm being dumb." Petunia gasped in outrage but Dudley shot her a disgusted look. "Not like that, Mum. Just when I'm being stupid and I should know better. He's actually all right so just lay off all right?" With that said he went back to his food.

Harry stared at him in dismay. What if Professor Peter found out about things through Dudley. If Dudley started trusting him he could let something slip. Or worse confide in him. Dudley might not know everything but he knew quite a bit. Harry had to lie.

"Dudley." His cousin kept right on eating. Harry glanced at the Dursleys but both Petunia and Vernon were eating as well, ignoring him. "Professor Peter isn't nice. I – He did stuff thats not – nice once." Dudley didn't look up. "Like what?"

Harry hesitated. He didn't actually want to tell Dudley what he was going to accuse Professor Peter of. Dudley was only eight after all. He looked at Petunia but she didn't look up. "Bad stuff, Dudley. I can't tell you."

Dudley snorted. "Then shut it, Harry."

Harry gritted his teeth. "Stuff that should never be done to a child." Harry whispered it. He couldn't help but remember Petunia's story about his mum. Apparently Petunia remembered too as she stiffed and looked up sharply at Harry. That was what he had been waiting for. He shuddered and bit his lip. "Please Dudders, don't-don't be alone with him." It was the please that sold Petunia.

With a gasp she started crying, then she looked at Dudley and grabbed him bursting into tears. Vernon apparently hadn't been paying attention but at the sudden commotion he roared at his wife to tell him what the boy had done now. Petunia was nearly hysterical and Vernon had to literally pull her away from Dudley into the hall. Dudley simply stared after them in shocked dismay. A few moments later Vernon roared in outrage.

"Boy!!!"

Harry got up from the table. He started shaking halfway across the kitchen but couldn't figure it out. It wasn't the first time he had gotten punishment and he did deserve this one. That had been one of the biggest lies he had told to date.

Out in the hall Vernon was nearly purple. "You filthy perverted piece of shit!" Vernon had spewed. "How dare you do – do something like that with a man!"

Harry gaped at him. What? "Uncle-"

But Vernon had swung his fist before Harry could get out more. Harry had seen it coming but hadn't moved. It was punishment after all. The blow knocked Harry to the floor and his glasses off but a loud thud startled Harry more. Grabbing his glasses he put them back on only to stare in shock at his uncle who was also on the floor looking dazed.

The spell Dumbledore had cast. He had said anything they did to Harry they would feel it too. Harry bit his lip. How could he have forgotten? Petunia had helped Vernon up and both had shrunk away from Harry like he had the plague. With a white face Petunia ordered him to his cupboard. Harry had gone quickly but had listened as they forbid Dudley from every going near Professor Peter again. Dudley had burst into tears and thrown a fit that lasted' til nearly midnight but they hadn't given in. Harry had been pleased his plan had worked but strangely regretful. Dudley had been so happy lately. If only it had been any other teacher he had gotten friendly with. Harry just didn't trust Peter. Enough said.

Dudley sulked for a week after that. He refused to talk to his parents or listen to a word they said. Petunia was in tears every night and almost hysterical before he finally stopped. But finally he did and Harry was pleased to see Petunia refused to let Dudley stay after school after that. She routinely began picking them both up at the end of the day and Harry couldn't help but feel grateful towards her although he knew she didn't do it for him.

Harry had meant the vow he made before Dumbledore arrived. After that first attempt to prevent the bumblebee from finding out about the punishment. He hadn't used magic since and life had become rather dull as the result. He had taken to reading a lot and spent quite a bit of time in the library. Harry had been skimming through books and found out that Dumbledore meant bumblebee in old English and hadn't been able to prevent his giggle.

Life had continued on rather slowly. He had started missing Osset're and Hylaarr terribly but knew it just wasn't a good idea to dwell on them too much. He was afraid his magic might notice if he did and try to get him there somehow. Dudley began spending a lot of time with his parents. His emotions seemed to swing a lot and Harry often felt sorry for him. The dynamics in the family had changed after years of the same routine. It was surly noticeable despite the fact that Dudley hadn't known about everything.

Exactly two months after Dumbledore's visit the Dursleys decided to visit Marge before the holidays ended. In the flurry of packing and loading the car Harry found himself conscripted into helping as the Dursley's sometime forgot about treating Harry nicely. After the car was loaded with Petunia and Vernon's things Dudley remembered something he had forgot to pack and disappeared upstairs.

Petunia and Vernon had sat at the kitchen table, exhausted after all the hustle. Snapping automatically at Harry to get them tea they had finally remembered him.

"Oh, Vernon what are we going to do with the boy!" She had wailed and absently picked at the table cloth.

"Well I know one thing, Marge won't tolerate this namby pamby nonsense about not hitting the boy." Vernon had grunted in disgust but looked fearfully toward the front hall. "If we take him he'd have to stay in the car."

Petunia had sneered. "He'd ruin it, Vernon. Might as well just leave him here."

Vernon had shifted uncomfortably. "But what if- he- finds out, Pet?"

"I suppose I better call Mrs. Figg." Petunia had said with a sigh and got up to get the phone.

Harry had bit his lip. "I could stay in the cupboard?" He had very quietly offered as Petunia passed him.

Automatically her hand had reached out and slapped him for his cheek. Harry had gasped but not because of his slap but because of the reddened hand print that suddenly appeared spread across the side of Petunia's face. She had gasped as well and pulled her hand like she had burned herself on him.

"Boy!" Vernon had started to bellow. Then the kettle sounded.

Harry froze, torn between what to do. Finally Vernon had snarled at him to 'get the damn kettle' and he had rushed over. In his haste he forgot the pot holder. Hissing he pulled his hand back before opening a drawer to look for it. The whistle sounded louder and Vernon's patience snapped.

"Now boy!" Harry had obeyed and, as he couldn't find the pot holder he had simply picked the kettle up and quickly poured a bit of boiling water into the waiting teapot before putting it back on the burner to heat up again. His hand had been red and blistering when he was through and it had been painful not to drop the teapot on the way to the table. Then he had set out cups and milk and sugar and hurried to find some of Petunia's fresh scones.

When he was finished he started to retreat but Petunia had grabbed his hand, gently though, and turned it over. Peering at it as if it were fruit she was inspecting she glanced once at Vernon. Harry had glanced too and saw a familiar light in his eyes. It was the same one he had before he would hit him without saying why. Finally she had released him and reached for the milk.

Petunia and Vernon didn't speak after that but quietly drank their tea finishing just in time as Dudley raced downstairs.

"He'll have to stay here then." Petunia said before getting up and taking her tea cup to the sink. "I'm not even sure if Mrs. Figg's at home.

"Fine." Vernon had replied cheerfully and left the kitchen. Petunia had abruptly turned to Harry and looked at him intently.

"While we're gone you may eat whatever you can find, boy, but no leaving." Harry had nodded. Petunia had tossed her head a bit and sneered. "Don't forget to make yourself some tea." With that she left. Harry had nodded once to himself before following after her.

Once Dudley and Petunia were in the car Vernon ushered Harry into the house and pulled out his key. "Do not leave boy." He had said gruffly and started to close the door. Then his eyes glinted unkindly and he snapped out, "And don't touch anything," before slamming the door.

As Harry heard the lock turn he sighed softly to himself. Don't touch anything. The Dursleys had always said that each time they left Harry alone in the house. Clearly impossible as he couldn't stand in one place the entire time. If anything he'd need to use the loo regularly. They always said it just to let him know he'd be getting a punishment when they returned. It was their way of saying welcome home.

To Harry it was a signal that things were getting back to normal. Punishments again. It was a good thing as he had actually started to forget them. It was a relief that they had found out a way around the spell. He might have started thinking he was normal if it had gone on any longer.

The Dursleys were gone three days. Religiously Harry made tea. Petunia like to think of them, the Dursleys not Harry, as of the upper crust, as posh, and served tea as if they were. She served tea with breakfast, and then around eleven she would have a cup by herself as Vernon wasn't home during the week. With lunch she sometimes served tea but since he had been going to school he didn't know for sure. She then would have afternoon tea at 4pm on the spot and always had a neighbor over. When they ate a late supper she'd serve tea again. She was fond of cream tea and would always serve scones and jam and clotted cream although Vernon though it was silly and 'much to expensive' to have so often.

Harry knew better than to use any of Petunia's tea things though, or even dare eat the left over scones that would no doubt be bad by the time they returned. He merely made a simple pot of tea and drank it with milk. He was careful not to use the pot holder, which he found in the dirty laundry, and a part of him welcomed the familiar feeling of pain. He had nursed his hand with an old ripped shirt of his that used to belong to Dudley and sipped his tea.

Harry hadn't had tea before. Actually Dudley had only had tea once after having a screaming tantrum over not getting to try it. Petunia had allowed him a cup in order to calm him and he ended up not liking it anyway, despite the fact that it was nearly milk and had so much sugar in it that even Dudley had claimed it too sweet. Harry didn't use sugar but he did use the milk. It would have gone bad if he hadn't. He found it rather nice and had the thought he'd like to have it again. Perhaps at Crescent.

Wincing he had realized he hadn't thought about Osset're and Hylaarr in a while. It had hurt to much to think about them. He knew he couldn't go back. He would have to somehow stop himself from going if his magic ever tried. It was sad but Harry was afraid if he ever went again they find a way of keeping him there. He couldn't let them keep him. He had to stay with the Dursleys.

The Dursleys had found a way around the spell.' He had thought to himself feeling very relieved. His world had suddenly felt right again. The fact that he was allowed to do more was the only thing that threw him. It was hard to eat once he had finally been punished again. He didn't want to. It meant things hadn't gone completely back to normal. But he had gotten used to eating, even put on some weight, and there was food the Dursleys had left that would go bad if it weren't eaten. Harry didn't want to give Petunia more excuses to punish him. He was positive she'd find enough on her own.

When the Dursleys returned it was late. They were tired from the drive back. Dudley went straight to bed. Petunia checked the phone for messages and then went to inspect the kitchen. Harry and Vernon followed her. Peering around she eyed the clean dishes and the empty fridge. Actually nodding in approval she stopped by a utensil drawer and pulled out a small, sharp, steak knife.

Walking over to him she was very nearly smiling. "Vernon told you not to touch anything, boy!" Her sharp snap had him cringing and looking down submissively. It had been longer than he thought if he had forgotten to keep his eyes on the ground. " Here, boy." She sounded very irritated but Harry could feel her glee in his throat.

She handed him the knife. Reaching out he had been very careful to take the knife in such a way as not to get cut. It would be very bad if he did and the spell cut her too. He had stood holding it unsure what to do.

"Boy." Harry very cautiously looked up. "Take the knife to your cupboard. Cut like this," She pulled a long fingernail horizontally across her arm. "If you cut the other way you'll cut a vein and bleed out. Should you do so, do not expect any help from us." She had held his eyes until he nodded, "One for every day we were gone," then made her way out of the kitchen. Vernon had looked at him with a smirk and then followed his wife.

That night Harry had cut his arm. It had hurt the first time. He had been tempted not to do it. But a part of him rejoiced. Pain. Punishment. As he watched the blood he had been sure he was right. He needed the punishments. Perhaps, one day, if he'd had enough then he'd be forgiven. For the stolen magic, for his role in his parents death. For being a freak. He had fallen asleep that night with a smile on his face.

The next morning Petunia had inspected his cut before Dudley came down. "Too shallow." She had said, her lips pursed. "See? There's barely a scab. Next time cut deeper."

He had gone to school and found that if he picked the scab he'd remember the punishment. It was helpful in making him remember to not act suspicious, not bring attention to himself. He had started planning ways to go unnoticed with wounds again. His magic had swirled behind his eyes, begging to heal him but he hadn't. He refused to use his magic.

For the next six months life was quiet. The Dursleys never yelled anymore. If Harry did something wrong Petunia would say, "Three tonight, boy," and life would carry on. Every morning before Dudley woke she would inspect his work. Sometimes she said nothing. Other times she would tell him to do them over and Harry would, on top of whatever else he earned that day. Harry soon found baths painful again, and the soap and water would sting when touching his wounds. And there were many. The only place that he didn't have them was his back, as he could reach, and his face.

Sometimes Vernon would punish him. He would be more creative and would specify where and with what Harry would use. Sometimes Vernon would bring something home and leave it in his cupboard. The first thing he had left was a lighter.

Harry soon grew very good at hurting himself in places no one saw but the Dursleys. He was careful not to cause wounds that would bleed at school. Burns were the easiest to inflict, endure, and hide. Plus they always pleased the Dursleys.

Only one time had Harry gone a bit too far and almost blacked out. Vernon had ordered Harry to sit with his head in a plastic bag for ten? minutes. "If you dare take the bag off before then, boy, I'll have you do it again and I'll make it an hour." Had had complied to the letter but had nearly blacked out. It was only his magic trying to draw him to Crescent that had shocked him awake again and had him pulling the plastic bag off.

The Dursleys almost became very pleasant people. With not having to deal out violence on a regular basis but still knowing Harry was getting his punishments the Dursleys were able to be pleasant and jolly most of the time. Vernon even started teaching Dudley how to play football after school. Harry was often in his cupboard but he'd hear them leave and then come back, loud with excitement and wheezing with the exercise.

Harry marveled at their soothing feelings when they weren't being reminded of Harry. He had always tried to remain unnoticed before but basking in their peaceful, happy, and positive emotions had given him more motive to do so. It made Harry realize that he was indeed right about being a freak. If just the lack of his presence caused such a reaction what would the Dursleys be like if he were gone? Good people perhaps. Normal and nice and happy. Such a shame he was there really. It made him feel guilty to bask in their positive feelings.

The emotions that Harry felt in his throat was obviously a form of magic. There was no other explanation. Harry had tried to stop but as he didn't know how he was doing it he really couldn't stop. In the library at school he had looked for books to explain it. He knew it wasn't something normal people did but he thought there might be a story or two about it. As it was he couldn't find anything and after a while he had grown so desperate for an answer one Saturday he had asked Petunia to take him to the local library.

Petunia had stared at him for a long while, incensed and irritated, as Harry knew by the feelings in his throat, and sometimes the whisper's added clarification. Then she had said yes and the next morning dropped him off until evening. Exactly at 7 pm the library closed and she had been there when he came out. That had set a weekend routine.

Harry couldn't find much about whatever it was he had. He went through book after book before stumbling across a story that mentioned anything like it. In the story it had been called empathy. The character in the book had been able to 'feel' other people's emotions as her own.

He had looked up empathy in the dictionary. The dictionary had defined it as the ability to share in another emotion's or feelings. Harry was certainly able to do that but that definition didn't assume it was a magical ability and Harry had continued to read.

Sympathy was defined as 'feeling sorry for someone."

Emotional contagion was defined as when a person, (especially a child) identifies with strong emotions others are showing and becomes subject to the same emotions themselves. Such as in the case of Dudley.

The Dursleys were actually rather predictable in their emotions, well Petunia and Vernon were. There had been the surprising exception of Dudley, who Harry had always thought to have rather simple emotions, actually surprised him by having logical ones. If there was an argument going on he was upset, if people were happy, so was he, if someone was scared, so was Dudley. It had surprised Harry to find out that Dudley would embrace Harry's emotions as well. It was almost like taking sides in an argument. It never meant Dudley stuck up for Harry, or stopped his torment, or any such thing. It just was a curious addition into his life and one Harry had come to appreciate.

Harry continued to search the library. Of all the books he found none suggested it was anything magical and Harry had been growing desperate. He couldn't find a way to shut it off and feeling what everyone else felt was getting to be an unfair advantage. The whisper didn't really mind that but Harry had been trying not to listen to it as much as possible.

Finally Harry came across a book on psychics. It had a passage in it that described empathy the way Harry thought of it.

'Empathic psychic abilities link one mind to another, or sometimes one mind to many others. Not only do they include sharing feelings and sensations, but they also include understanding how a person thinks, and why they think that way.'

It went on to say that the receiving of emotions was actually a passive action as opposed to doing something active. In actuality it would be as impossible for him to turn off as turning off his sight.

It did say that water is the element of emotion. It recommended that placing bowls of water around the room would help absorb emotion. It also recommended learning a form of self defense in order to 'strengthen weak barriers'

But what had really made Harry pause was the small recommendation at the end of that chapter.

'Love yourself. Aren't you worth it after all? When you get down to it aren't you the most important person in your life? And don't you deserve to be loved by that person?'

But Harry had only been able to think that such a thing couldn't apply to him. The Dursleys were always telling him that no one could ever love him. Really only his mum and dad had been able to. With the forbidden magic he had how could anyone love him? He was horrid after all. A freak. And if no one could love him how could he possibly love himself.?

Do you even know what freak means? The whisper had snorted with disgust.

After exhausting the extent of the library Harry was forced to give up. The empathy wasn't that bad. In fact it was shockingly unobtrusive compared to some of the stories he had found. And it was useful. Being able to hear the Dursleys was shockingly pleasant when they weren't thinking about Harry. When they were thinking about him it was . . . helpful. He was able to stem tirades, calm tempers, and allow punishments when it was more convenient to endure them.

In the end it all came down to manipulation. Harry had come across the word in the dictionary and been shocked to find a word for what he did. He manipulated people. The Dursleys, Dumbledore, his teachers, even strangers. It made life much easier for Harry if everyone simply thought the way he wanted them too. He'd never force them to think that way, such as with magic, but if they did it on their own because of the information he gave what was the harm? The whisper also approved and tried to help but as Harry had the sneaking suspicion that the whisper was his magic talking to him he refused to listen. That was what was wrong with his whole world. The magic refused to leave. Well like or not Harry was determined to get rid of it somehow.

Summer was set to begin when everything fell apart. Yesterday Vernon had come home from work early. Petunia had dropped Harry off at the house after school and taken Dudley to get ice cream. Harry had found it rather odd that he didn't seem to want to get ice cream but hadn't time to explore that before he was ushered out of the Bentley and left to make his own way into the house.

Vernon surprised him. Harry had been sitting at the kitchen, taking advantage of the empty house in order to finish the last piece of homework Professor Peter had set for the year. He didn't even hear Vernon come in and so knocked over his glass of water when Vernon's heavy hand fell onto his shoulder.

Vernon had squeezed his shoulder, almost hard enough to hurt, and growled at him to clean up the mess before he made himself a sandwich and sat down. Harry scrambled to soak up the water, upset as some of his papers had gotten wet. They were old though and he grabbed them, about to toss them, when Vernon snatched one out of his hands.

Harry froze. It was a spelling test. One he hadn't studied for and therefore hadn't planned which words to miss. The Dursleys were rather blinded by how wonderful they believed their son was. Even if he did something wrong they would blame anyone else before him. Dudley had learned from their example and whenever he did something that could possibly objectionable he would holler 'Harry did it!' or 'Harry made me do it!' or 'I couldn't see as Harry's big head was in the way.'

Blinded as they were they couldn't understand that Dudley wasn't very smart. Whenever Dudley came home with a poor grade they would find any excuse to explain away why. The teachers, the students, the circumstances, the fact that it was Monday, and of course Harry. Harry had been very careful, especially since that first week of school, to never do better than Dudley. His grades were always just as poor or poorer, not very hard as Harry never did homework and made sure to miss most of the questions on quizzes and tests.

Harry had only missed two on the test that Vernon was now holding. He had forgotten to look over the words and see how not to spell them. And when the test had come around it had been the end of the day and Harry had been in a hurry to finish and get out the door to Petunia. She didn't like it when Harry kept her waiting. He had gotten a very good score and Dudley had barely passed that one.

Harry could feel his anger rise as he looked at the sopping wet paper. Watery blue eyes stared at Harry for a very long moment.

"Think you're something, don't you boy." Vernon had whispered. "Think you're smart?"

Harry had shook his head but Vernon hadn't even paid attention. "I think you're not as smart at the teacher thinks, boy!" He had shook with fury and his fist had crumple the paper into a wet mush. "I think you're a sorry little cheat, and you desperately need a good beating to keep you in line. Only one of those FREAKS did something and I can't even give you the smack you deserve!"

He had suddenly lunged forward and grabbed Harry by the shirt and pulled him close enough to his face that Harry could smell the onions he'd put on his sandwich. "Believe me, boy, the next time you step out of line. The very next time I will find a way around that rubbish the freak did. And you will get everything thats been months in coming."

With a little push he released Harry and sent him to the cupboard. That night, after supper, Petunia had ordered Harry to punish himself. "Five will teach you not to cheat." She had said, her lips pursed and he had felt her disgust like vomit in his throat. It was the ruddy empathy that did it. Harry had been able to handle Vernon's rage. He had sat in his cupboard and shook a bit afterwards but he had been able to handle it. Petunia's disgust had been worse though. He could almost imagine his very presence making her sick up and he had picked up the knife with the intention of punishing himself for being so horrible.

But he had miss judged. Perhaps he had gotten so caught up in the pain, or perhaps his hand simply slipped but he cut too deep and the wounds wouldn't close.

This morning Petunia had inspected them and found them still bleeding. "Don't think you'll get out of going to school, boy." Her upper lip had curled in disgust at the blood. "Bind it before you go."

But it had been a mistake to go with the wounds still bleeding. Professor Peter had noticed. Harry still wasn't sure how he could do that but when Professor Peter had begun to hover Harry had left class and spent the rest of it in the loo. 'Just today.' He had whispered. 'Just get through today.'

At lunch Professor Peter had grabbed him by the hurt arm in order to pull him into his office. Harry hadn't been able to help his hiss of distress.

"Get off," He had growled and Professor Peter had let go.

"How did you get hurt, Harry?" He had looked at Harry with pure concern and that tickle in his throat had come back.

Harry had stared at him hatefully. The Professor had already tried to get at the Dursleys once, and had failed. If he tried again Harry could merely heal himself. He didn't see anything wrong in telling the truth.

"Punishment." He had lifted his chin. He was not ashamed. The punishments were necessary after all.

"For what?" Rage had begun to choke Harry. Dangerous. The whisper had said in his ear. He's dangerous.

Harry had ignored the whisper and breathed out a quick breath. "I got a better grade than Dudley." Harry ignored the anger stabbing his throat. Oddly there was also sadness and concern in his throat as well. Like there were two people in the room instead of just Peter. Wolves inside him. The whisper giggled strangely. Harry ignored it.

"I shouldn't have done that." Although he clarified it didn't seem to calm Professor Peter's rage at all.

"Harry." Peter strangely sounded calm. Only sadness was underneath the tone. "Punishments are not for things like that. Punishments shouldn't be like that. The Dursleys-"

"Are loving, caring guardians. They teach me right from wrong. They help me." Harry's magic had tried to surface but he had pushed it back down. "Nothing you say will make me think differently."

"But, do they love you, Harry?"

No said the whisper. "I am unlovable." Harry had snarled.

Professor Peter had shook his head. "How can you be unlovable, Harry, when I love you so much?"

Harry had shuddered at that and abruptly turned around and left. That had been the last time he would ever see Professor John James Peter.

Petunia had a doctor's appointment that afternoon and Harry had to walk home by himself as Dudley was walking home seperately with Piers. He could have kicked himself when he realized he had forgotten to tell Professor Peter to stay away from Dudley.

Back at home he had found a note for him in his cupboard from Petunia. Five was all it said but Harry knew what it meant. Situating himself in the cupboard he began. One cut to introduce the pain. Another to remind Harry it was punishment. The next for getting caught by Professor Peter.

Dudley had came home before he could do another and Harry paused but Dudley made his way to the kitchen. He knew he should have stopped. He knew the Dursleys didn't want Dudley knowing about the more violent Punishments. Dudley was a child after all. Seeing such things could scar him for life. What had that mage said. Ahh yes. Children are emotionally fragile or something like it.

Harry waited but after a bit Dudley had started eating and Harry knew that he'd be while. He waited a bit more to be safe before cutting into his arm again. That one was for cutting too deep last night. And the next for . . . for almost believing Professor Peter. He felt the knife bit into his skin and he dragged it down painfully-

The cupboard door had flown open. Harry had froze and stared at Dudley. Dudley stared back for the longest time.

"Harry." He finally breathed staring at Harry's arms in horror. The blood had drained from his face until he was nearly white. He couldn't say anymore and simply gaped at Harry. Harry had only been able to discern his shock as wind in his throat.

Harry cringed. Now Dudley knew. Harry was more of a freak then he'd ever thought. He knew about the punishments and about how bad he was.

Finally he brought up the courage to speak. "Punishment." Harry whispered it. "Aunt ordered." Half of him expected Dudley to smirk at him, or laugh. He didn't. In fact Harry could feel his horror growing. And his disgust.

Vernon was going to kill him.

"Don't tell you saw, Dudley, Please" Harry begged his cousin not to tell. It was wrong. Harry was at fault. He had let Dudley find out about the punishments and he really ought to take whatever was coming but he just couldn't. The Dursleys would toss him out. They'd dump him off a bridge. They'd wash their hands of him. The whisper was telling him to run. Run. Flee. Escape. But Harry just couldn't. How could he? He needed the Dursleys.

"You bleeding, Harry." Dudley had calmed down a bit it seemed. He was back to pointing out the obvious. Good. Maybe he wouldn't care. Maybe he wouldn't mention it.

"Yeah." Harry had whispered. "Its okay, Dudley. I deserved the Punishment." He had looked down absently seeing the blood that he'd shed.

"What'd you do?" Dudley had whispered back.

Oh. Well he couldn't tell Dudley about the test. It'd make him feel bad. And it might make Dudley angry enough to say something and get Harry in more trouble. And he couldn't tell about the Punishment he mucked up.

"I haven't done my chores for today." He had lied and tried to look guilty.

Dudley's emotions had leveled out into just disbelief. "Lucy does the chores now. Your not allowed."

"Yeah." Well who knew Dudley could be so observant?

Finally Harry couldn't handle it anymore and motioned him to scoot back. Dudley did and Harry had closed the cupboard door.

Oh he was so dead. The Dursleys weren't home yet but they would be soon enough. Harry had heard Dudley go back to the kitchen and carefully he had brought the knife down, finishing the cut. Then he had literally tossed it away. It had hit the cupboard wall falling to lie half in and half out of the pool of blood on the floor. He hadn't been able to take his eyes off it since then.

Panic made him breath harshly. How could he explain this? How could anything make this better. Dudley knew. He had always known a bit, about the cupboard and such, but the actual punishments had been kept from him. For good reason. He was just a child. He didn't need to know about them. He might be a bit of a bully and a downright prat at times but Harry wouldn't wish punishments on anyone let alone a child.

The front door opened and Petunia was home. She went to start on supper. A bit later Vernon arrived and then Petunia called Harry to the table. Dudley wasn't there to Harry's surprise. He must have gone upstairs. It disturbed him that he hadn't even noticed.

Dudley came in a bit later and Harry was nearly bowled over by his emotions. He radiated anger and pain and despair. And fear. Harry didn't look up he was so floored.

Petunia noticed and began fussing. She checked for a fever and then resorted to the age old cure. Food. She piled his plate high but Harry could feel his queasy stomach. For once Dudley didn't want to eat.

Vernon didn't seem to notice as he was obviously tired. Grunting at Harry he ordered him to pass the roast. Usually Harry had used magic to handle something so heavy but as he wasn't using magic he didn't. He also was so distracted by Dudley's feelings he forgot that he wouldn't be able to lift it. And then it went crashing to the floor.

Utter silence.

Then Vernon had roared at him to get to his cupboard. Dudley's jolt of pure fear nearly made him pause but Vernon's red face had him rushing to escape the kitchen taking one last look at Dudley before he left.

"Why don't you just punish him here, dad?" Harry heard Dudley say very quietly and he froze. "After all you have a knife right there."

Silence. Oh no.

"Its not like I don't know after all." Dudley sounded, smug.

Run said the whisper but Harry hadn't been able to move.

Suddenly the kitchen door swung out and Harry was too quick to escape getting hit. He gasped in surprise. Vernon came through it and roared with pain as the spell made itself known. Grabbing Harry by the arm he dragged Harry to the cupboard and flung it open. He had to let go of Harry in order to reach in and grab the knife but then he had Harry's arm in a vice grip. It hurt and surly Vernon was hurting as well but the madness in his eyes didn't seem to care.

"I told you, boy." He whispered spitting the words in Harry's face. "I told you. Now its time to pay. Take the damned freakish rubbish off!" Although he spoke in a whisper it sounded like he was shouting.

Harry shook his head. "I can-can't, Uncle." He had whispered back. "Unless I use ma-"

Vernon shook him very hard. "Don't use that word, Boy! Just do it!"

Harry stared at him.

Run. The whisper was hissing at him. If you're going to have to use magic anyway use it to get yourself out of here.

But the only place Harry truly wanted to be was Crescent. And getting there involved doing as Vernon said. It didn't even register that Harry had decided not to go back.

Very carefully he pulled out some liquid light, it had been bubbling at the surface waiting to be used, and pulled it into his 'hand.' Then he whispered at it to find the bumblebee's magic and remove it. The magic laughed and seemed to whisper back.

Then suddenly he was being filled. Magic everywhere, as it hadn't been for months. It filled him up and then left and touched Vernon and some sped into the kitchen and more and more leaked out of him. He felt overly full, as if he had drank too much water. He felt filled with it. With magic that sang and danced, celebrating its freedom. And more and more poured out. Until suddenly it didn't.

Vernon smelled of fear. He was shaking. "Is it gone?" He was barely able to get out.

Harry looked at him and felt pity. "Yes Uncle"

Vernon nodded and grabbed him, swinging him around, his hand still gripping Harry's arm. There was an awful snap that made Harry scream and then Vernon was behind him and the knife bit into his throat. Harry could feel hot pain and then blood and Vernon pulled it across.

Then he let go and Harry fell to the ground a hand reaching out to catch himself even as his other reached to his throat. He couldn't feel any emotions then. Not his and not his Vernon's. Quietly he felt himself fading. Blackness snuck into his vision and the pain started to fade. Blood still poured over his hand but he made no move to heal himself. He wasn't even sure he wanted to.

'What happened?' he thought dazedly. He slit your throat the whisper replied.

Oh. Harry couldn't even feel shock.

He head Petunia's scream very distantly. "You've killed him!"

And then he was gone.

Aren't I just a bitch?

Fiftul.