Saving Harry

WARNINGS: Religious Fundamentalism, Sensitive Subjects Mentioned, Future Lemon - things of varying sexual nature until that point, homosexual/slash relationships, intense bullying, varying degrees of abuse. If this puts a stick in your ass and offends you, turn back now.

[A/N: The Vernon/Dudley Situation will be explained at a later point in the plot]

Following chapter has things of a sexual nature.

Concept and Story heavily influenced by premise of Steven King's "Carrie". I heat chicken nuggets on review flames.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter [Warner Bros. do] nor do I own Yu-Gi-Oh! Or the great concept of Carrie by S. King

Chapter Two

Harry felt his back sear with pain as it was bombarded with balls during the game of dodgeball. The sound of laughter surrounding him told him that the boys meant to, except for perhaps the new boys in his PE lesson who stared dumbly. Harry felt warm tears rising to his eyes from the pain of it but blinked them away, not wanting to be so weird that he'd cry from being out in dodgeball. He made his way to the stands where the other kids who were 'out' were and sat furthest away from them, laughter ringing in his ears.

He was thankful when the bell went and he was going to use the cubicle showers to wash away the sweat, quickly, before the other boys got there and filled in. There was a bathroom adjacent to it, he'd check the coast was clear and go there to change, as opposed to the changing room where everyone did it infront of one another. He never knew where to put his eyes and felt a hot flush of awkwardness, inadequacy and finally, the bruises he had to hide.

Today he was trying to get the temperature just right and took a bit longer then his normal speedy self, and panicked as he heard boys pounding on the door of his shower cubicle, trying to break the lock and swing it open so they could laugh at him naked.

He felt like one of the little pigs having his house blown down by the wolf.

Little pig, little pig, let - me - in!

Not by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin!

Harry threw his weight on the opposing side of the door, which wasn't much, but let out an exhale of relief when it stopped and their laughter was just echos. He was the lucky pig who's house was made of bricks. Thanks be to God, he couldn't handle such humiliation today. Slowly unlocking the door and wrapping ninety percent of his body in an all-eclipsing towel, he hobbled out. He was greeted with high shrieking laughter of girls and boys as he looked to the bench on the dry side of the shower room and found his uniform stolen, the boys had even brought the girls in to have a laugh. Harry wasn't sure how he stopped the tears from coming again this time, but thankfully Mr Luton, the PE coach came in and angrily shouted the girls out. It was highly inappropriate they were even in there, but his anger reached another level when he saw them all laughing at one student. The weak one that was rubbish at PE but never caused a fuss, was huddled in an overly large towel, wet, clueless and his side of the bench, bereft of clothes.

Mr Luton walked over to Harry and ordered that all of the boys wait in the locker room for him, and tried his best to comfort Harry, who just nodded absently.

"Wait here," Mr Luton said, leaving Harry to sit on the dry bench, shivering under his towel.

The boys in the locker room were smirking but groaning about being in trouble, the new foreign kids, whom nobody had really spoke to, looked mortified on Harry's behalf.

The short one with ridiculous hair proceeded to go on an indignant rant that got the attention of everyone, and their glares. Nobody stuck up for Potter. Potter was fair-game. He was lower then 'loser' on the social ladder, he was plaque.

"I don't care who did it!" came the yell of Mr Luton as he thundered in, effectively silencing everyone including Yugi who was pretty sure he'd trashed his own reputation in minutes.

"But if Harry Potter isn't in full uniform by lunch time, they'll be hell to pay," he shouted, his entire neck going up to his face was red. It was rare that Mr Luton was ever this angry.

The albino kid, who vehemently protested to being called one, ducked out of the locker room inconspicuously and made a few turns hesitantly, not wanting to get lost, until he found a giant box he'd saw on the way up, labelled 'LOST PROPERTY'.

Marik seemed the least phased by it, but found it petty and it's own level on the scale of childish cruelty, but half-wished Luton would shut up because not all of them were laughing and not everyone was involved. The boy's dispersed eventually and Marik hesitantly made his way into the shower area when Mr Luton went to try to find a head of department to ask what to do about their naked student.

The boy looked up at the sound of footsteps and had an expression of confusion as the large, tanned boy sat beside him silently. Harry continued shivering and flinched as he felt another layer on top of him, he looked up with an expression of a deer caught in the headlights. A rather large leather jacket was over his wet towel, and his wet hair dripped a little on it, Harry looked to the boy. He obviously had no idea who he was or he wouldn't have done that.

"Thank you," he said in a quiet, humble voice that Marik strained to hear.

"But you really shouldn't be seen talking to me, or being nice to me," he rushed out, all in one breath "-you're new and I attract bullies,"

"I'll talk to whoever I want," snapped the boy irritably, making Harry flinch. It seemed the new kid was not good or well rehearsed with comfort or acts of human kindness, which made the situation weirder.

Yugi had followed in, seeing Marik go and looked at the scene, and then sat at Harry's other side. Harry felt uncomfortable about the whole thing, people were talking to him - willingly, this wasn't right, they were being nice too, this was worse, and then he felt a stab of righteous annoyance as he looked at their face. It was pity. He didn't deserve pity! He didn't want pity!

Ryou meanwhile, was digging around until he pulled out a rather beaten up set of black tracksuit trousers, and a big shirt, and a jacket that he was surprised wasn't moth eaten. He dug around in the hopes of finding shoes, he found mismatched pumps with holes in, one school shoe and finally, a big pair of dusty, somewhat grimy, moth-eaten trainers without laces.

He made a beeline to the bathroom with them and ran them under the taps as best he could, not wanting to soak them but not wanting them to feel so disgusting you couldn't comfortably put a naked foot in it. Carrying the gear that was all mismatched in terms of size and rather beaten, Ryou stumbled his way back to the changing rooms, trying not to get lost.

Ryou hesitantly came in, surprised to see Marik there with Yugi and the boy draped in a jacket over his towel.

Yugi looked up to see Ryou holding clothes.

"I...um...went to Lost Property," he said awkwardly "-it's the best I could find,"

Charity. It was pity and charity. Both of which he did not deserve and yet he did not want to walk to Mr Luton, naked in a towel and be sent home (selfishness). He would surely have to confess this.

"Thank you," said Harry again, meekly. Yugi got up along with Marik and Ryou to let Harry get changed.

"We'll wait outside, we...we don't know where English is," said Ryou quietly "-maybe you could show us?"

So that's what they wanted. But do they really want me as a chaperon?

Harry talked back from the cubicle, more then he'd ever spoken to another student before, testing the loudness of his voice.

"Won't you look just a little bit ridiculous with me showing you around?" he said, pulling the shirt over his head "-I can give you directions I guess but-"

"We don't care," came the cold, cool voice of the tanned one.

Harry didn't know how to respond to that, so he showed them to room 1b, ignoring the jeers he got on the way, that the other's showed clear distaste for. A couple of them made 'chink' comments that were silenced and most just pitied the kids for being dumb enough to walk with Potter of all people.

Harry lifted his head up and opened the door to classroom 1b and turned to the other's awkwardly.

"Um here." he said, then decided he should probably say something else to them since they had been so nice.

"M...Mr Broderick is really nice, you'll like it," with that, he scurried off to his art lesson without looking back at them as they stared after him. When Marik, Yugi and Ryou took their seats, they were quickly approached by a brown haired boy with a scowl affixed to his features.

"What where you doing with Potter of all people?" he asked.

"We were lost, he just walked us here," cut in Marik smoothly before Yugi opened his mouth to say something.

"Oh," said the boy "-because you don't really want to be out with that sort. Nobody will make a big deal out of it yet because you're...new, but just be careful who you hang out with," said the boy.

Marik wanted to snap again and say he'd hang out with whomever he liked but quickly said something else to prevent Yugi or Ryou from cocking up their reputation in under in a week. Sure, it was bad what they did to that scrappy poor kid, but he wasn't about to make his year of school actively difficult by being a righteous knight in shining armor for him.

"We'll bare that in mind," he said tightly, as Mr. Broderick came in and effectively silenced the class with roll-call.

Harry's class giggled when he came in with mismatched clothes and a note from Mr. Luton explaining what happened. The art teacher's lips thinned and she directed him to the table by itself that she kept for him, it was subtle, but this way the kids couldn't ruin his work or disrupt him. All they could do was bitch about him from their seats loud enough for him to hear, and if he could hear it, so could she and then she could effectively shut them up.

Harry paced himself through his work, he couldn't draw realism, most couldn't. His handwriting was ugly and spidery and his realism often turned into a series of stick people. He was okay at cartoons though, better then the others at least - and he was good at something else. The boy had a great imagination, he was so good at surrealism that it didn't matter how horribly off his anatomy was, he could stretch to about a face, but it was always good work.

The art teacher had been somewhat baffled by it at first, but grew to like Harry's art. It was no Picasso, but then again, who's where? It was always so interesting though. Sometimes she just taught a technique - like crosshatching, or how to better use wet media, and give them free range for the lesson on how they used it and what they drew.

Today was one of those lessons, where this time she put away the acrylic paint and brought out the watercolors. Harry didn't know why he pictured some things the way he did, he always had an imagination, Aunt Petunia would call it abnormal, so he didn't talk about it. Sometimes when David said he couldn't speak until spoken to, he'd dream about those words, or what the mean kids at school said. Sometimes he would picture those words in such strange ways that it'd turn into a nightmare and he'd have to wake up.

Last night he'd dreamed about how Aunt Petunia had shouted at him, and how he'd wish words would flow from his mouth the way they would with normal kids. It felt like his throat was suffocated sometimes, and he'd be scared he'd stuttered, sometimes it'd feel like the freedom to speak had been so choked out of him, that if he did, he'd be letting blood into his mouth and drown in it.

So when the bell went, the art teacher found herself staring at a shadowy, bleak portrait with green eyes, of Harry with his mouth wide open, overflowing with red.

It disturbed her, so she put it on the side and went to her office for a cup of tea.

Harry did find his clothes at the end of the day, in a bin. Quickly he wiped them off and changed into them, smelling and reeking but needing to look normal when he got home. How would he explain Lost Property clothes? Exactly, he couldn't. So he ran home, feeling disgusting until he got changed.

Yugi Mutou had accidentally singed his reputation. The locker room incident along with being seen walking with Harry had left people too apprehensive to talk to him, so they'd sit there and just stare at his hair. He felt awkward and kept near to Ryou because of it, and Ryou had yet to be approached by anyone, he did a good job of not being noticed.

Yugi wondered if he should do the same, if only for a year to survive British schooling.

Marik seemed to have caught onto this rather quick, and his uniform had gone from neat to standardly messy, as he sat at the back, rather relaxed.

You did a good thing for that boy, you all did, said the age old spirit of the Millennium Puzzle.

Yugi remained silent.

The girls were spiteful, they didn't hit Harry like the boys did, they weren't physically mean, but they knew how to wear you down. Harry was mock-included in a conversation, but too scared to reply, knowing they were doing a big joke, Harry just inched away quietly and made his way to the study hall lockers. He couldn't have spoken in and been cheeky or coldly retort back to them even if he wanted to. He didn't know how to respond to that kind of teasing, he didn't know what to actually retort back, he didn't know how to fight back. Even if he had an insult on the tip of his tongue, he was afraid he would open his mouth and stutter, as sometimes, it felt like his mouth was filled with red, choking back his words.

For another time, he was sinfully envious, and wished that he was like other kids. David said he wasn't normal yet, but he'd get there, tears wanted to rise whenever Harry thought about it. He used to do freaky things, when he was upset, or angry, things would happen. Weird things, bad things, things that were not normal. Vernon had hated it too, he'd called it "nonsense", "nonsense" that would be beaten out of him. David had been more successful though, it had happened when David saw a shattered china plate that Harry dropped, repair itself in his hands. Harry was not sure how he'd done it, nor did he want to know, but David had said that it was not the work of God. That it was the work of his parents, that it was sinful Pagan magic, that ran through his blood. The work of the devil's advocates flowing through their son.

David had taken him to the bathroom and run a cold bath, and then waved the cross over the big red jug of liquid that Harry did not want anywhere near him. David took off the yellow childproof cap and poured it into the bath tub. Harry's bruise ridden, irritated flesh had flared horribly that night as bleach was poured into he cold bath. He sneezed and he cried and he shouted over David's quotes from his King James Bible. He thrashed but his hands held him into place and pushed him back down, threatening to dip his head in it. He would wave his cross and slap it across the left of his cheek. He would recite angrily, and Harry's freakishness sent tubs of deodorant, soaps, shampoos and conditioners everywhere, Harry closed his eyes and begged it to stop. His cheek stung, his body stung, his bruises stung and he wanted it to stop.

Then all of the items had fallen with a clatter, abiding back to gravity, and David smiled.

David said he had exorcised the demon out of him, and that he would do so again if they returned. He drained the bath and washed Harry gently with a sponge, and it was this point that Harry had seen his eyes were bloodshot.

"Everything I do, I do for your own good," he had said, and Harry had remembered it since.

David Dursley loved him, and that was more then most.

So when Harry received the same letter he had when he was eleven, by means of an owl, he cried.

"Did you make any friends at school today?" Isis asked, when they all got home, exhausted, throwing their schoolbags aside. Yugi didn't answer, neither did Ryou, they just looked at each other - exhausted. Odion looked worried by this response and turned to his little brother, Marik, who gave him a dry, cold expression.

"Sort of," and without elaborating, headed upstairs to his room.

Sometimes, Harry defied David in his own little ways, not big ways, because he still wanted Jesus to love him - but he wanted his peers to as well. He didn't say grace when he'd taken his school lunches in secret, and he would take off his cross and put it in his bag, and sometimes, he'd even look at magazines on the way to school.

Now when that bloody owl had come, it felt like God's way of chastising him for doing such, as anger rose in David's eyes.

"Go to your room," he said, he had an angry reply to send back.

Relief had washed over Harry when it meant David wasn't angry with him, he was angry with the pagans sending the letters inviting him to their side. God wasn't angry at him, neither was David, so he pulled out the magazine that he'd gotten in secret. His fingers traced over the shining lips of the pretty lady on the front of it, with immaculate makeup and skin, with 'GLOSS' printed on the front. It was a girly magazine, but not many boy's left magazines lying about in study hall. It had fallen out of a girl's locker but she'd walked off before he could return it, and he'd kept it since.

The girl on the front was so pretty it made him smile, he gently turned the page, occasionally glancing to the door to make sure David or Aunt Petunia would not come in. His room had a lock that David and Petunia were in control of, not him. Keeping the magazine half covered by his bed sheet, he looked at the fashion line. He didn't find the clothes particularly interesting, but the people modelling it. The women were so confident, even more then the one's at school, with long shirts that were low cut and tight, skirts that knew their bodies and paraded their flesh in a way that would make David frown. Their heels gave them height, their hands on their hips, confidence oozing out of each air brushed picture, Harry wondered how that could really be so evil? Fingers quivering, he leafed over to another page and froze, it was a picture of the same vein, but of a man. A man in very comfortable jeans, a movie star of some sort judging by the headline calling him a film-star heart throb. He paid little attention to the article and was drawn in by the picture, finger hesitantly going down the muscled arms.

Was it wrong that he thought the man was pretty too?

Then he thought of today, how he always hid and changed away from everyone, never knowing where to put his eyes, he envied the man in the magazine, he was shirtless and had muscles where Harry's rib-cage was starting to show. He felt a little jealous but sighed, knowing jealousy was bad and rather pointless. He had nice eyes like that man, and he was gaunt but he had high cheekbones, maybe if he wasn't so tatty and thin...

All the other boys at school weren't like that, that's why he changed away from them, some had muscles - like the tanned boy, or were lithe but average like that nice albino boy that had got him clothes.

They were foreign, a bit snappish, nice so far to him though. The tanned boy had strong arms and walked down with him and the other two English, he felt a slight bit safe, even though kids were still saying things.

He was handsome, so was the albino one, even if they were a bit different. Harry felt heat rising to his face as he stared at the picture in the magazine, comparing it to the two he'd met, then his mind crossing wires and putting them in place of the model on the cover. He flinched as he felt an uncomfortable warmth filling him from the tips of his fingers, down his arms, to his trousers. Looking down, he blushed and then looked at the door, embarrassed and slightly horrified at his erection.

He had them once or twice before and hated them, usually it had been when he got up and would go away after a shower, but Aunt Petunia was in there. He prayed it would go away but he kept returning to his sick thoughts that it was nice to feel that way. His body felt nice all over, it couldn't be that wrong, could it? Why would God make it that way if it was so wrong? Hesitantly running a hand down his thin stomach, he stopped at his waist, feeling an ache from his crotch.

His hand shaking, he slipped under his trousers and flinched, biting down on his lip, hard. With cautiousness he brought his erection out above his trousers, panicking looking at the door.

Please go away.

It felt so good, but he wanted it to go away before he got in trouble. His body shook as he thought of why his problem had come up in the first place, and felt desperation gather inside him. Studying his aroused self and simultaneously wishing it would disappear, he measured his body's reactions to the touch, the whole experience was foreign yet oddly elating, he'd never felt something quite like it. His eyes squeezed shut as he brought his other hand around himself firmly and let out another gasp as he stroked his rigid member. Guilt had disappeared as his body arched, overpowered by the long-since neglected feeling as Harry pumped himself desperately, feeling his lower abdomen gather pressure and flip with pleasure every time. Blood dripped from his lower bit lip causing him to let his gasp out, releasing his mouth open and letting moans slip out. It had been an accident, but he felt too good to care as his back arched forward, his fingers teasing the wet slit of his cock, just doing what felt right.

His ears were washed over with his own unwilling sounds, feeling pressure gathering at the head, he opened his eyes to see clear liquid dripping from the slit, and let out an all-encompassing shudder as his vision blurred, feeling all the pressure release from the pink swollen head. Personally forbidden images coming up into the forefront of his mind, flashing as his vision turned white and he felt a hot splurt of pleasure shooting from the slit of his cock and down his fingers and dripping to his trousers as he shook the last splatters of cum, accompanied by a guttural, helpless groan.

Panting and lying back in the bed, he felt his face go horribly red as he reached around for a towel or a tissue, and flinched as he heard the sound of his door click from the outside, and footsteps going back down the stairs.

Self-disgust washed over him now, clouding and shattering his afterglow as fear bubbled inside of him.

"Come down and set the table!" came a yell from David downstairs.

Blushing, hiding his magazine, his trousers and throwing an identical pair on, he made his way downstairs, knees feeling weak from the pleasure that had swamped him previously, he clutched the banister on his way down.

David eyed him as he washed his hands at the sink and began laying the table.

"Put some hot water for the tea," he said, getting up to go to the other room, nodding, Harry did so, trying to shake off his worry.

"Are you done?" David called, coming in with a big book, Harry nodded, feeling his stomach clench. The Big Book rarely meant anything good, it was the giant King James Bible that he'd brought from auction - it had been so beautiful, he had to buy it.

Harry read from The Big Book when exceptionally good, or exceptionally bad, usually, when he was bad.

"I want you to find Corinthians 6:18 before dinner," he said, normally enough. Harry nodded, he was good at finding Bible references, and David had been so proud at how quickly he'd picked up the skill. His eyes found the quote and read it across in his head.

'1 Corinthians 6:18

Flee from sexual immorality. All other sins thou commits are outside the body, but whoever sins sexually, sins against their own body [self abuse]'

Masturbation was 'self-abuse' ?

Harry's eyes widened, he had been caught, and as this moment dawned on him, he yelped in pain as the book was slammed shut across his hands by David with a force. David was shouting now, but this time Harry could not keep the tears from coming, he'd done this himself, and it was wrong, horribly wrong.

"Why, why must you run into sin the minute it comes before you?" he snapped at Harry as if he were a hopeless case.

"First the owls, then the demons, and now this?" he said, swaying slightly as if trying to keep the rage from pouring out. Harry cried, he cried that he was sorry even though he wasn't sorry at the time, even though he'd brought himself to orgasm with no regrets, he kept crying he was sorry.

"Sin does not go unpunished," as he said this, he grabbed the kettle and poured the steaming water into a bowl, then without warning, he slid Harry's hands out of the book and held them into the bowl. He screamed at first, his skin feeling sore, red, swollen, stinging and ready to peel as the boiling water burned his hands horribly. The tears kept coming, then, he felt the water cool. His mind reeled - it was the 'nonsense' again, he prayed David would not notice the steamy wisps had stopped or put a pinkie into the bowl of water.

Pulling his hands out by his wrists, David put the Big Book back in the living room, leaving Harry shaking.

Aunt Petunia silently brought in the useless painkillers, fed them dry to the boy and left as David came in with bandages.

"I have school tomorrow," choked out Harry "-how will I write?"

"You will survive, your skin will stop bloating over night, it will hurt but you will live. Your skin will shed into the bandages, never use your hands for sin again," this, was cleansing.

"Is there anything else you must tell me?" said David, waiting for a confession.

I accepted charity, Harry wanted to say, but something told him no, not if you want to live.

I thought of boy's while I sinned against my body.

I still have the 'pagan nonsense' inside of me, Sir.

"No Sir," Why did I just lie?

Then, when Harry thought the worst was over, the sound of a tap, tap, tap could be heard.

It was another owl, carrying another wax-sealed letter.

"Go to your cupboard and pray, I'll deal with this," said David.

Harry went without protest, he needed forgiving.