Not ten minutes after falling asleep, Vernon came crashing through the door, waking Harry abruptly.

"BOY! Do you not understand English? You've been nothing but a pain in the arse, and now you're taking a nap?! You think that since your freak teacher came by today you could do whatever the hell you wanted? I won't stand for it! You will pay for this boy! You will never even think to skip out on your chores after today. I will NOT have you lazing about!"

There was no moment open for the sleep-muddled Harry to even consider defending himself. Vernon viciously backhanded him with a slap that would have shoved him off the bed if not for the death grip on his hair.

When Vernon let go, he did fall to the floor, where Vernon proceeded to kick him hard in the stomach. Harry only dry heaved in response... nothing in his stomach to throw up.

"Well? Get up then!"

Harry began struggling to get up, only to be kicked again. He couldn't help but flinch as his uncle reached for his belt.

Damnit! Not again. This scenario was getting old pretty quickly.

This time the belt hit him every which way. It seemed to hurt worse than the last time, or maybe he just forgot how horrible it was.

Harry blacked out. And with one last kick to his shin, Vernon left the room, his nephew curled up unconscious on the floor.

When Harry came about he couldn't get up with the amount pain and dizziness he was feeling. He had slept through the night and into the next morning. Which was surprising for two reasons. For one, he'd had a dreamless sleep, which was far in between these days. Second, he was expected to be awake and making breakfast over an hour ago. How was he still here?

His thoughts were sidetracked, however, when Dudley came running up the stairs. Harry, not feeling up for his cousin's ridicules, feigned unconsciousness. And as the heavy footsteps subsided, he opened his eyes once more, unsure of what to do.

He could get in trouble both for "lazing about" in his room, and also for leaving his room without permission. Either way, he'd probably end up in trouble, so he chose the lesser of two evils and crawled into the bed.

Trying to ignore the pain, he again drifted into unconsciousness, and somehow stayed there for the entire day. The next day, Harry did hear the sharp morning rap from his aunt. Bitter as he was, he was grateful for the reprieve. His entire body ached ruthlessly, and he couldn't move without inflicting pain. He couldn't imagine being expected to do anything while the wounds were still fresh.

If I hurry, maybe I can get cleaned up a bit before I go downstairs, he thought.

Harry limped to the loo and stood in front of the sink. He saw in the mirror that the belt had found its way to his face at one point and left an angry, red mark from beneath his right eye down to the small of his neck. No way to hide that, he thought. He washed up and made his way downstairs, sure he was going to be made to do the chores he'd missed for the last two days along with today's. Just as he reached the kitchen, Vernon looked as if he were just about to go upstairs to get him. He walked towards Harry at full speed.

Harry barely concealed a flinch and couldn't help but move back a few steps. Vernon roughly pulled him forward and yelled at him to hurry up and be faster next time.

His aunt actually gave him two pieces of toast when his uncle was done. Could she possibly feel guilty? No, she couldn't possibly. A thought came to him. Maybe cooking more than enough would get them to give him some . He'd try it tomorrow. His mind told him that he could get in trouble for wasting food, but that idea disappeared at the thought of the way Vernon and Dudley ate.

Vernon came back with three different lists and pushed them all into Harry's chest. The breath was expelled from his lungs and he was in even more pain. "No. More. Warnings." Vernon glared at his nephew and all but threw him outside. As Harry started limping towards the tool shed, he pondered what his uncle had said. How the bloody hell was that a warning? If that was a warning, he'd be dead in no time. He gingerly sat down in front of the tool shed and restlessly surveyed the damage. He didn't want his uncle attacking him again.

He got out the lawn mower and as he slowly began to mow the grass, Remus Lupin came up to him.

"Hello, Harry! How are you?" Lupin asked.

"I'm fine Prof… Remus." Harry looked at Remus with what he hoped was a believable smile.

"That's go...Harry, what happened to you face?" he looked at the bruise concernedly.

Harry said the first thing that came to mind.. "I was playing baseball, it's a Muggle sport. I was to close to the pitcher and I got hit with the bat… by accident of course." He stammered and lightly touched the mark on his face. Harry then had the though to smile sheepishly at the ridiculous excuse he came up with.

"Okay. So, and why are you limping?" he asked, remembering that he had seen Harry limping to the shed.

"It was a rough game. My ankles and knees are all torn up." Harry continued with his tale.

"And your relatives are still making you do these chores?' Lupin replied, aghast and slightly suspicious.

"It's ok. Really. I don't mind… I have nothing else to do anyway."

For some reason he couldn't understand, he was getting slightly defensive.

"Would you like me to go and tal.." "NO!"Harry blurted out, interrupting Remus.

"I mean… it's ok… I really don't mind. It keeps me busy."

"Ok, so let me heal those wounds for you then." Remus insisted.

"They would notice if I was suddenly fine, and you know they're not a fan of magic." Harry replied, this time being truthful.

The lists in Harry's hands caught his attention, and he snatched them away before the teen had a chance to protest. He reviewed the lists and, with a flick of his wand, nearly all the outdoor chores were done. Harry was extremely grateful for this and, for a few seconds, he actually believed that he might have a chance of finishing his chores. Then he realized that no one would be able to finish all those chores in two hours without the aid of magic, and his uncle might figure that out as well.

Ignoring that for the moment, he turned back to Lupin.

Harry forced another smile and said, "Thanks, now I can do things more properly."

"Anytime, Harry. Although I really must go now. That bruise may take a while to go away. If it scars, you can have Poppy fix it when you return to Hogwarts. Try to be more careful, Harry."

Remus looked very closely at him before portkeying away. It warmed Harry a bit to feel the care his former professor's words.

Since the outdoor chores were finished, Harry went inside to begin dusting the furniture only to run into his uncle watching the telly. It didn't take very long for him to notice the teen.

"I told you I didn't want you in here until you'd finished the outdoor chores!" Vernon was already turning purple and was about to get up.

Flinching, Harry said, "I've finished, Uncle Vernon." He was sure that he would pass out if he were thrown against the wall again.

"Impossible, boy! Those chores were meant to last you quite a few hours. You don't have that... stick with you do you" he asked dangerously.

"You've locked it away, you know that!" Harry responded defensively.

Vernon backhanded him so hard that it caused him to stagger back few steps.

"Check for yourself! I swear they're all done." the boy insisted. Vernon huffed.

"Fine. Go work upstairs. I'm busy here. And believe me boy, you don't want me finding out that you've been lying to me." Harry nodded, not doubting his uncle for a second.

Climbing the stairs was painful. His welts were throbbing, especially the one on his face, where his uncle had just hit him on top of the welt. Harry felt a headache coming on. He snuck into the loo for some Muggle medicine before heading off to clean Dudley's room once again. It was impossible for the oaf to keep his room clean for more than a minute. Harry shook his head and started cleaning.

He started to daydream about what life might have been like with his parents. He didn't do it much, but at this point he just wished he was out of this place. He chest ached as his godfather came to mind. He would get out. He just needed to bide his time.

Ron and Hermione at his sides, Harry made his way to his usual seat at the Welcoming Feast for his sixth year. Headmaster Dumbledore was standing up, about to give his speech when the doors to the Great Hall slammed open. Standing there, was Sirius Black, cloaked in black. The room became deadly silent as he made his way up to Harry. He stopped right next to his godson, his head down. "Harry," Sirius said in a quiet voice rather unlike his own. Harry said nothing. He felt dizzy enough to faint and had unshed tears in his eyes at the memory of his godfather's supposed death.

"Why did you kill me?" That did it.

"I'm so sorry Sirius." he whispered, tears escaping his eyes.

"I deserve a little revenge, Harry. Don't I? Don't we all?" he noticed Cedric in the distance, standing besides people he didn't recognize. They were cloaked in black as well. His chest tightened as he noticed his parents standing there as well.

Sirius pointed his wand, not at Harry, but at Ron.

" No Sirius! Why are you doing this? It was my fault! Don't hurt Ron! Think about his family. He hasn't done anything!" Harry was frantic.

At this, Sirius looked up. Something about him was off. Instead of kind blue eyes, Sirius' eyes were now red. Blood red. And the looked hollow. It was horrifying. Sirius laughed darkly.

"Why should I kill you and put you out of your misery? No, Harry, it's suffering that you deserve. Your friends will die because of you."

Harry couldn't understand what has happening. The Sirius he knew would never do something like that. He looked around. The headmaster had disappeared, as well as the other professors. Only Ron, Cho, Sirius, Neville, and Hermione remained; all petrified except Sirius, Ron, and himself. This was wrong. This couldn't be his godfather. But it was. Harry admitted to himself that he did deserve to suffer for what he'd done, but at the expense of his friends? No.

Sirius started to chant, "Avada ..."

"Nooooo!" Harry tuned out the rest of the curse with his scream, which abruptly ended as the breath was knocked out of him.

"Sirius, why? I'm sorry…"

"SHUT UP, damnit." Vernon kicked the screaming, dark-haired boy that was writhing on the ground.

Harry awoke, immensely glad to be out of the horrific nightmare. Tears poured down his face, his body in pain. His head throbbed, and his throat hurt. He could barely hear the sound of his own voice. He was pretty sure that he was begging his uncle to stop, but he was in too much pain, physically and emotionally to fell any sort of pride. He just wanted Vernon to leave him be. He wanted everything to just stop.

His pleas reached deaf ears, unsurprisingly. Stoicism was the best route. Anyways, he had killed Sirius. It was his fault. Everyone who ever gave a damn about me dies! The nightmare has some truth to it. Was this his payment for what he'd done? How many other people had his existence been the expense of?

"People are trying to sleep... probably woke the neighbors with that howling..."

Vernon was still ranting but Harry didn't care. The emotional diatribe had engulfed him. He snapped out of it when he the door slammed. His uncle had no doubt realized that Harry had stopped yelling and went back to bed. Harry couldn't manage to climb back onto the bed, and fell asleep on the spot, awaiting the nightmare soon to come.

The next time Harry awoke, it was 6 AM, five hours later. He'd had no other nightmares, thankfully. It was abnormally quiet in the house, and Harry realized that the Dursleys must have gone out.

He didn't move. Just lay there thinking. Maybe he could run away to the Weasley's. But at the same time, he didn't want to be a burden. They struggled financially as it was, they didn't need another mouth to feed. And if he were to go there, someone would be bound to find out about his injuries. Harry didn't want to be subjected to their pitying stares.

Harry laughed darkly. Remus, Dumbledore, or even Mrs. Weasley, would kill Vernon. Couldn't have more people dying because of him. Besides, he didn't want to endanger them with his presence.

He couldn't die at his uncle's hand, though. It would cause more people, a lot more people, to die because of Voldemort. No, it was kill Voldemort or be killed by him. Harry could not let the latter happen. Once Voldemort was dead, he could finally die too, without causing mass hysteria. He could be with his parents… and Sirius… if they could forgive him, that is.

He didn't deserve to be with them, Harry thought sadly. He'd stay with the Dursley's. He could take it. He doubted his uncle would actually kill him; he wouldn't go through the trouble.
Harry felt sick and slowly made his way to the kitchen, ecstatic to see no one was there. He found a note on the table.

'Went out. Have these done.", it said. Attached was the list of chores.

It was just like his uncle to not tell him when they'd be back. For all Harry knew, they could be back in an hour, or even tomorrow morning. So much for the big breakfast plan. He'd make a quick walk to the grocery store instead.
After taking a quick shower and nicking a few cough drops, Harry went to get his money from underneath the loose floorboard. By the time he limped off to the store it was twelve noon.

Quite a few people eyed him suspiciously when he arrived. At first he was confused, but then he remembered that his aunt and uncle had told everyone that he went to St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. He grabbed some junk food and sodas and went to pay.

The clerk was one on those who were staring at him, though not exactly suspiciously.

"What happened to you?" the guy asked.

"Er… nothing," Harry replied. "I just got into a fight with some of the guys." Might as well stick to the story Uncle Vernon told them.

"Don't look like a fist made that mark. Looks like a welt. Who whipped you?", the man said.

Harry tried to look at the man as if he were crazy, but he failed miserably and felt his cheeks burn.

"It's none of your bloody business, alright? I was just fighting off some guys who tried to jump me!"

The cashier said nothing and waved him off after ringing everything up. Harry tried to stay mad at the guy, but he couldn't. At least the guy noticed what no one else did… not that he wanted anyone to notice or anything. He was just annoyed. It was none of that guy's bloody business what Harry did and what happened to him. Not like anyone else gave a damn anyways. Harry checked the time and saw that he'd stayed way too long at the store.

He took off as fast as he could without making it obvious how hard it was for him to walk. About to cross the street, it was as though things started to move in slow motion.

There was a girl, she looked about eight. She seemed angry about something, running out of a toy store… and right into the street. Oh. Merlin. It was like one of those things you see in movies but don't expect to actually happen. There was a speeding ambulance moving straight towards her. He wouldn't be able to stop in time, and the girl wouldn't budge from that spot.

Harry didn't even realize when he dropped all his bags, taking off full speed in a run to save the girl.

The pain was the furthest thing from his mind when he made the dive.

Then, his world erupted.

SO close, Harry thought desperately. But he didn't make it.

He blacked out, and knew no more.

Reviews anyone?