Normally when you wake up in a place that you don't remember passing out in you'd have yourself a mini panic attack. The symptoms are your heart beating fast, sweating, shaking on both inside and out, and more. However, Harry knew he was not having or going to have one, for he had had many panic attacks and he had woken up where he did not fall many times before. In fact it was nothing new to him, it might even be turning into a habit. For Harry to go from one horrible situation to the next while he was unconscious.

Usually when he was smaller his uncle would give him his beating and then drag him by the arm or leg into the cupboard his slept in, not for any of Harry's benefit but for the durselys own. His aunt would constantly yell that he was getting blood on the carpet or Harry being a lump on the ground was ruining all the beautiful décor of her whale like son's photos. Harry didn't really mind though, when his uncle did drag him he would most likely be unconscious.

But what was irking Harry was not the fact that he was laying where he shouldn't be. Because he knew that he wasn't supposed to be just lying by the cupboards door knocked out while his so called-family ate. But it was that he passed out in the first place, Harry had never been fond of passing out. He didn't even know why he did fall unconscious, but he was guessing that it was because he hadn't eaten any sort of food beside water and bread for two and a half days.

Who could blame him though, when you're depressed you really don't feel like doing anything at all, that includes eating. He was just glad Hermione didn't find out because of she did he would be in for a lecture from the witch for sure. If she reacted so badly to him not eating when he had a Quidditch game then he knew she would go over the moon in worry about him, if she had found out that he was not eating that is.

Now however he had to get back to the matter at hand, how in the hell did he end up all the way downstairs on the ground of the small hallway? For that, he had to guess it was his uncles or Dudley's doing, or both together. Judging by the collogue of bruises on his torso, legs, and shoulders he could guess they had a little fun with the rag doll Harry before dragging him down stairs. Harry had no doubt that they let his head hit every step because he had the worst headache imaginable.

He would deal with all of those later though, even the bleeding ones. Because there were quite a few of those nasty ones. So while trying to be a casual as you can with a bleeding body and a bad limp while holding your head, Harry walked into the kitchen. All the while reminding himself not to flinch or act as if he was in any pain. He refused to give his uncle or disgusting cousin joy over bringing him pain. That nevertheless was proving to be impossible, for he hurt all over. Especially in his chest, that though was understandable because there was the most bleeding through his shirt in that place.

Later he would also have to check out everything was ok. He always did that in the summers before he could relax. The procedure would be Harry going up to his room or cupboard and taking off the bleeding clothes he would then look himself up and down to survey the damage. If it was serious he would usually always carry some bandages under the floor boards, when they were there none of the durselys would be able to find out he had knicked them from the bathroom while he cleaned it.

That's where he had the tape when he was eleven; he used all the roll to fix up his glasses and then hid it again. He having to use the tape in the first place had been curtsey of his cousin, who had punched him so hard that it, cracked the middle of the his glasses in half. Hermione though had fixed that straight away with her gift with spells.

"So you've finally decided to wake from your peaceful little nap have you freak?" his uncle taunted.

All Harry could do was nodded while he stood before the dinner table, the was currently seating his cousin, uncle and aunt. He knew that if he said anything it would have been a comment on how no rest was peaceful in this retched house but that would only ebb his uncle on more. And right now, he wanted nothing more than for all this trouble to stop. Though it was impossibly hard for him being Harry potter and all, trouble just seemed to travel behind him every day.

"Since you missed out on making dinner for my honorable son and pet you have to be punished." again all harry could do was nod vigorously.

"Oh Vernon dear let us enjoy our meal you can go after him after it, I desperately want to hear about your day." his horse like aunt commented. Never before had Harry been so happy to hear what his aunt petunia had to say.

"Fine then pet." Vernon said in a sugar sweet tone, before it turned harsh as he looked directly at his nephew. "You are to go upstairs and clean the pool of blood you left on Dudley's second bedroom's floor, once you are done wait in the cupboard for me to get you."

Harry didn't even respond he just looked down and turned away to walk out of the room. When suddenly he was hit with something that felt like a carrot in the back of his head. He turned around practically fuming from the mouth. Knowing that it had been done by his cousin, had it been his uncle it would have been his shoe or fist.

Before he could even shout a comment back, he looked over Dudley's shoulder to see his uncle Vernon staring evilly at him. Almost as if he was daring him to do, something about the way his "honorable son" treated him and for once in his life, Harry didn't have his Gryffindor courage.

Once again, turning towards the door Harry walked out and ignored all the horrible comments they were currently making about him in the dining room.

In the quickest run he could make at the time, he ran up the stairs. He knew very well that if he heard any more of those taunting about him being abnormal and needing a good punch he would blow his fuse. Cautiously he opened the door not really knowing what to except. The last time his uncle said he left a pool of blood Harry walked into this room to find everything, even the ceiling covered in droplets of blood, which was one of his worst beatings.

He was very happy when he walked in only to find a medium size puddle of his own red blood in the corner by the window. Back into his run, which was very painful for him due to the extent of his injures he made it to the bathroom. Before he grabbed the cleaning supplies he glanced at the toilet, he looked back and forth between the cabinet and the loo. With his body in so much pain throwing up sounded so good to him. But then again he didn't really have anything to bring back up and if he did puke then he knew that would mean cleaning the toilet too. And right now in all this pain, he didn't think he could handle that much work.

So he hastily grabbed the supplies he needed and walked more slowly back into his old room this time. Due to him having been treated like a house elf since he was five Harry knew very well how to clean, even things such as blood. But yet he still had to admit that it freaked him out, knowing that he was cleaning his own blood off the floor and all but wouldn't it you?

That was done quickly which made harry very happy, it had hurt terribly to be bent over in that position for even a short amount of time. His whole chest hurt and felt like it was weighed down with pressure. Making harry know that it was indeed time to survey the damage that had been done to him while he was out cold.

So in extremely slow motion that made him feel like he was twice his age Harry made his was off the ground and back onto his feet. Now was the time he hated most of all, well it was a little better than his punishment but it still hurt like hell. However, he knew that he had to get it over with and the sooner the better. So very carefully, he lifted up his arms and took off his shirt and under shirt.

He couldn't even stop the gasps he made or the flinches of pain he gave while he did it either. But Harry had never been one for crying or feeling sorry for himself so he made it through the best way he could. He finally let out a long sigh, as he looked his abs and chest up and down; there was a lot of damage done. No, it wasn't as much as usual but it did look horrible from Harry point of view. It was though a bad and a good thing that his scars didn't heal well. It was bad because without his shirt it just made Harry terribly bruised, purple, and red where they did not. It was good because he didn't have to explain to people where he got the ones during the summer. Because most people assumed that, he had gotten them in some huge fight at Hogwarts. Which was only partially right, yes he had some still on his body from the last five years at Hogwarts but those were slowly fading away. Oh, if only the others would too, Harry had no idea how he was going to change for Quidditch practice next year or let alone shower after it.

Back in muggle school harry had always been late to gym, because he waited for everyone else to leave before he could get into his clothes. Sure, some kids gave him weird looks as he sat there and looked off into space at nothing but they would most likely give him weirder ones if they saw how he looked without his clothes on.

Harry's sore hands lightly traced over every one he could see, the blood had only dried on his shirt so he could see the scars without that much blood spots blocking them on his light skin. Yes, he would wince or bite his lip as he felt over them but it was a good way to make him less sensitive. If Harry could stand his own touch over them then he wouldn't flinch away if he ran into someone somewhere other than the durselys.

No one really knew about the abuse inside the house itself. If had heard his screams or if the neighbors did, well they sure weren't doing anything about it. The durselys had gave harry the reputation of a criminal and an insane man on privet drive. Therefore, no one really cared if they happened to be walking down the street and saw his uncle threatening him outside of the house. Because of all the stupid stories and lies, the durselys had told the street some might even say the boy deserved it so that he would shape up.

However, Harry didn't want to think about all that now, he was getting himself too worked up over it all. But it was better than concentrating on his many scars and bruises. Each one of them told a story of the horrors he had been through, not just the one on his forehead.

It seemed that each of him had there scary story of how they came to be and Harry remember each tragic moment as he looked over and slowly traced each one.

There was a large old one right under his rib cage for the first example. His aunt right had caused it after his uncle beat him.

(Flashback (1))

A small fourteen-year-old boy was lying in the floor after being knocked painfully into the fridge by his overlarge uncle. You see it was the summer after Harry was in the famous triwizard tournament and even during the day he was still having nightmares.

He had been give one of his more simple chores this morning but yet it had ended in disaster. Harry was responsible for cooking the breakfast that morning and he had found himself daydreaming or more having a nightmare while he was awake about his friend Cedric Diggory dyeing that night. But of course, his uncle wouldn't understand how painful it was to go through something like that. He didn't even care to take a chance and try.

So once Vernon realized he was burning his very precious bacon he had it decided that he should take matters into his own hands. By doing that he got up a yelled so loud, that Harry thought his ear drums would burst at the mere sound.

"BOY! WHAT IN THE WORLD DO YOU THINK YOUR DOING?"

But Harry wasn't sure he really wanted to answer that question right now. Being as he was already unhappy because of the grief, he didn't want his uncle to make it any worse. So being the strong male he was he just shrugged and looked up to find himself standing face to face with a very unpleased Vernon, of course he was like that every day.

"Well?" he asked menacingly.

"Nothing uncle Vernon." Harry responded causally as he went to go and throw out the burnt meant.

" oh no you don't boy," he uncle stopped him by firmly putting his hand on the fourteen year olds shoulder, he made sure that his finger nails tightly sunk into Harry's thin skin. "You're going to eat that for your breakfast and not a signal bite of anything more do you hear me?"

Again, all Harry gave was a nod; he really didn't feel like arguing and besides, burnt bacon well that was more than he had eaten in a long time.

"Answer me!"

But all Harry wanted to do was nod, which never seemed to bother his uncle before. But then again you could never really tell what he wanted from you when he was angry. It was like everything you did was wrong when he got into a horrible mood and by everyone, I mean Harry only.

It seemed that Harry hadn't answered quick enough, though it's not like Vernon gave him anytime to. He was then met with a hard slap to the face. That one slap was hard enough and had enough force and hatred in it to knock him down and against the fridge. His uncle then had his fun with him by taking the toe of his working shoe and repeating slamming it against Harry's ribs and stomach.

In a haste while mumbling to himself, Harry's uncle furiously walked out of the kitchen. Harry thought he had heard the words scum and no good freak in his uncle's ramblings. But he could care less right now, because suddenly the whole world seemed to spin and his thought were hazy. Harry could guess the cause was from his head hitting the refrigerator so hard at such a speed. However, it wasn't over just yet for at that minute aunt petunia walked into the kitchen and nearly fell over the lump by the fridge that just happened to be her only nephew.

"Freak! What do you think you're doing on my clean floor?"

Harry really wanted to answer that it didn't matter if he made the floor dirty for it had been him who cleaned it. But with most of his energy left, he refrained from doing so.

Before Harry could even tell what was happening he felt a searing impact that knock the wind straight out of him.

It had been his aunt with her brand new frying pan in her hand; she had used that to smack the bottom of his ribs with. He was really happy that that it hadn't gone any higher he was sure she would have at least cracked one of his ribs. Yes, the pan had hurt that much, it was enough to make him go up into fetal position on his side and gasp for air.

Without a signal word of an apology petunia put the pan back and left the room. However, not without screaming at him once again to get off her sparkling floor.

By the time he could breathe enough to get back up he was greeted by a list of many chores thrown directly at his face. And that had been what his days were like for the rest of the summer, painful and depressing.

He still shook at the thought of feeling like that again, he felt so hopeless and childlike and we all know who much Harry hates feeling like that.

He remembered very well that the only thing that got him through that summer was the thought of living happily with his godfather. Even the thought gave him a small smile on his clean face. For you see his uncle was smart enough to know never to hit him where it could be seen by any one. In Vernon's mind, the only abuse everyone had to know about was the mental and emotional. He would never hit Harry in public, that might a attract Harry's lot as Vernon had labeled the wizards that looked at Harry with so pride as they walk by him on the street.

Suddenly Harry stopped tracing over his previous wounds. His head shot up from his stomach where it had currently been and to the window. He had completely forgotten about Sirius writing a letter back to him. Well he didn't know if Sirius had wrote him back but in all this depression he knew he had to try to have some hope.

Quickly he limped over to the window and closed opened it and looked out. As he peered into the open dawn sky, he saw nothing. His heart immediately dropped at the thought of no more letter from Sirius. But before he could shut the window he heard a soft hoot from a nearby branch and looked around to see no other owl than Hedwig.

"Come on girl, come back in." he timidly told her in fear of his uncle hearing him.

Of course, she followed his directions perfectly, flew straight into the room, and landed softly on his old twin bed.

He left his injures unlooked at as he slowly limped and walked over to her and sat down beside her.

"That's a good girl." he commented at her good behavior. Normally she would have been so excited she would have been hooting and flapping her wings everywhere much like she had done in her cage before his second year.

He let out a long sigh of relief as he saw the parchment on Hedwig's leg hadn't been damaged or lost. Slowly with his heart pounding, he reached out and grabbed the mail from her.

With slightly shaking hands, he opened it and read what it had to say. He smiled like a manic to himself as he saw Sirius's handwriting on the first line. But desperate to know what his godfather had to say he read on. The letter from Sirius went something like this…

Dear Harry,

Hold on I'll be there...

Sirius

Ok so it wasn't that much but it meant the world and more to Harry potter. He read over it repeatedly just to make sure his eyes weren't deceiving him. He couldn't believe that his godfather was going to come to privet drive!

Suddenly Harry panicked… what he thinks he's doing coming all the way from grimmuald to surrey! Won the get caught and thrown back into Azkaban. He thought to himself.

But that thought soon left his mind as the door opened and he saw his uncle Vernon standing in the doorway like a mad man with a whip in his hand. Think of Sirius coming, think of Sirius coming, he's going to get you and take you back with him. Harry repeated over and over again, as he stared in horror at his uncle, who was now waking slowly towards him.