Chapter Seven: Memories of a Child who was Abused

Harry began to talk to the others in Dumbledore's office, to Mcgonagall, Ron, Hermione and even Dumbledore himself. He told them about his childhood and what happened in it; as far back as he could remember.

"I was dropped off at the Dursley's when I was a baby. I don't remember that part very well, because of my being a baby, but they told me I smelled like a magical wet dog all the time, even when I didn't. Even at that young age I knew something was different about me, because of how I kept making things float and sparks of energy would shoot out of my eyes. The Dursley's kept it quiet though and whenever someone noticed something they would just say that I was a prop in a new movie that's coming out.

They hated magic and told me that every day they saw me, which was every day because I lived in the same house. As them. I remember one time when I was four I woke up before Dudley and went into the kitchen to cook breakfast. My aunt walked in, accused me of using magic to be up before Dudley and then broke my nose with a chair leg she had torn off for just such an occasion.

My Aunt was called Petunia and her abuse was usually more subtle than Vernon, my uncle who simply punched me in the stomach and then laughed as a coughed, yelling about how he could see the magic leaving my body. Petunia would restrict privileges like television and going to the bathroom. Also I had to make food for the Dursleys for every meal, but since I was so small and not good at stuff that tall people were good at, the food I made was usually very poor in quality and the Dursleys would refuse to eat it, hurling it in the trashcan and then throwing me in with it, forcing me to eat the burned and occasionally dangerous ruined meals.

Dudley was no better. He was a year older than me and was much larger. My limited and uncontrollable magical abilities did not protect me from when he dropped on me from a second story window, breaking all three bones in my leg, or when he gathered his gang together and had them tie me up in a burlap sack and beat me with a cast-iron skillet until blood dribbled out of the bag. I wised up though, and usually bought blood from the butchers before one of the scheduled burlap beatings and after a reasonable amount of time I would use a knife that I always carried with me to cut the bag of blood and let it spill out, allowing them to think that I was more injured than I really was.

Originally they kept me in the cupboard under the stairs, where due to the large amount of spider-bites I suffered from, I had to learn the number to the British Poison Control Center, but I had to make sure to make the calls when the Dursley's weren't around or they'd beat me some more. They didn't like me using the phone. Eventually they decided that they didn't want to waste the insurance on me anymore, so they moved my room to the cupboard under the sink, which was much smaller and vastly more uncomfortable, although I did appreciate it for two reasons.

One was that there were no more spiders to worry about, just a leaky pipe and some aggressive mold. The second was that put me closer to the kitchen, which made making meals much easier, and so the beatings did diminish slightly.

School was not much better. While none of the Muggles realized what magic was, even if I accidentally performed it in their faces, like an invisible juggler, between my small size and Dudley, I was never very popular and spent a lot of my time in between classes getting beat up. By the children, not the teachers, they didn't care too much about me since I could never put any effort in the class, because if I did any better than Dudley Vernon made me eat the report card, which admittedly tasted better than the meals I usually made.

There was also Dudley's Aunt Marge, who had several dogs. Whenever she came to visit she would bring a few and the Dursley's would have fun tying bits of meat and dog biscuits to various parts on my body and see how long it would take the dogs to catch me. It never took very long. After the dogs had finished the Dursley's took me to the vet, who would laugh, thank them for the hilarious joke and give me a lollipop. It never tasted very good.

Dudley would often sneak into my room late at night, while I was sleeping in the bed and saw off the legs so the bed would clatter to the floor. He would then bash me about with the bed-legs and saw until his parents came in and grounded me for ruining their furniture.

As I grew older I often attempted to tell other people about what was happening to me, but the Dursley's would claim that my wounds were self-inflicted and that I wanted to sleep under the sink and I wanted to fail classes. They were better at lying than I was at telling the truth and I always went home, tired and abused.

So when I got the letter from Hogwarts saying I was a wizard, I was ecstatic. I never thought that those odd occurrences that happened around me was magic, and the Dursley's told me my parents died in a terrorist attack. I always assumed they were the terrorists, due to the way the Dursley's always spoke about them with such disgust, but now I know they were the victims and I can love my parents again. Also learning magic is really cool."

Harry finished his story, panting slightly as he let all the horrible memories float to the surface and then sink back down, like a buoy that temporarily released some air, only to have it scrape against a small floating rock and develop a hole that allowed water to seep in and sink it back to the bottom of the ocean.

The others in the room looked quite upset, with small tears slowly dripping down Hermione's face, Mcgonagall looked like emotion was fighting to break through her iron mask, Ron looked bewildered and hungry, and Dumbledore looked regretful.

"We're so sorry Harry, but we're glad it is all over," Hermione said.

"I am apologetic," Dumbledore said. "But I knew this was going on."

Harry's eyes flashed and he turned to Dumbledore, furious. "If you knew, how could you let it continue?!"

"Harry, if you did not truly suffer, you would be unable to love the way you do now, and Voldemort could never be defeated, ever."
"Oh," Harry said. "I am still upset though."

"As you should be, my dear boy. As you should be."

"I can't believe they didn't feed you properly," Ron said. "But I'm glad that I have a friend who also knows what it's like to be poor."

Mcgonagall sniffled before saying, "50 points to Gryffindor, for being so brave and courageous, in the face of neglect and abuse, you poor, poor boy. Actually, make it a 100."

"It shall be done," Dumbledore said.

"Headmaster, why did you call for me?" Harry asked questioningly.

"Excellent question my protégé," Dumbledore said. "You see, there is someone here who I think you should meet."

As Dumbledore spoke, a person crawled out from underneath Dumbledore's desk, revealing himself slowly. Harry spoke his name before Dumbledore could.

"Dudley Dursley…"