Chapter 3: Connected With a Memory
Harry hit the wall with a dull thud, coughing violently. Blood gurgled in his mouth, mingled with the saliva that he promptly spat out onto the floor. Wiping the excess away from his chin with the back of his injured hand, he listened carefully, attempting to determine where his uncle would attack from next. He cautiously felt the aching welt on his stomach where his Uncle's heavy boot had connected and launched him clear across the room. He could feel the brusing rising to the surface already, and with it came irepressable anger.
"That all you've got?" Harry said with a weakened grin, "My Uncle, I think you're losing your touch."
A fist caught his jaw unexpectedly and snapped his head to the right, causing white lights to pop into the blackness that was Harry's sight. Dazed, he shook his head and felt his jaw swell.
"Funny, " His uncle retorted, "You don't seem to believe that when I've got you screaming like a girl."
Harry snickered, attempting to mask his pain. A sharp kick from what felt like the steel capped boots caught him under his fifth rib, causing him to gasp painfully as all the air rushed out of his lungs. He would pay for his defiance greatly, he was well aware of this. Infact it was what he was aiming for, this time, he hoped that his defiance would get him killed. He had lived this nightmare for months now, barely able to move for the pain and suffering it caused. It was time to end it, once and for all.
"No uncle," he panted regaining his breath, looking up to where he believed his uncle to be in defiance, "I merely know that my screams give you pleasure, and who am i to deny you that joy?"
"Indeed." His uncle said forcably through gritted teeth as he stomped down with all his weight on Harry's good leg.
Harry bit his lip so hard that blood spilled from the gashes in it, and he winced in agony. This fresh pain made him temporarily forget the torture he was being subjected too, and he took relief in its presence.
"Glad to see you're joining the party." His uncle said with a smirk noticing the wounds that he did not inflict on the boy's lips.
"Couldn't let you have all the fun now, could I?" Harry forced out with a smile.
Vernon smirked at the boy's attempts to anger him and realized his game. "What's the matter, Harry? Don't tell me you've had enough already? I never thought you were a quitter, I thought you would have had the defiant determination to hang on for as long as possible, if for nothing more than to torment me."
"Oh its tempting Uncle, believe me." Harry replied through gritted teeth, unable to disguise the venom and pure hatred in his voice.
"Well then, I suggest you get used to being around for a while yet Harry, because i have no intentions of making your departure from this world quick nor easy." His uncle sneered.
"Of course not." Harry replied casually. "If you killed me now, you'd go back to being poor, pathetic, snivelling, Vernon Dursley. And, with no one to assert your dominance over, Petunia would go back to having no interest in you whatsoever, because you'd be less than a man to her again. As long as I'm around to torture, you're her hero. As soon as im dead, you're nothing."
Harry could sense, rather than see, that dangerous puce color rising in his uncle's face, and he knew he'd accomplished what he had set out to do. His uncle was livid. He could almost feel him vibrating with anger.
"Don't you dare talk about her." He threatened.
"I'm sorry, It's sad really isn't it? That your wife is only turned on by you because of the fact that you beat the shit out of me every night. It's really something she should seek medical help for, I shouldn't laugh about it."
"I'm warning you.."
"Are you? Thats awfully considerate of you." Harry chirped, coming into his own.
Once again a fist collided with the side of his head, snapping it to his right and the white lights popped into the darkness once more, swimming before him like lightning bugs. Harry shook his head as if to clear it and gave a small chuckle.
"Well," He smiled, "You did warn me."
He sensed the two great pudgy hands lunge for his throat and close around his neck. He felt them squeeze painfully tighter as gravity pulled him upward to a standing position. Vernon held him by the throat with one hand, cutting his oxegen intake to a bare minimum. Harry found himself awkwardly balancing on his good leg, begining to feel his conciousness slide from him. Out of nowhere a solid object slammed into his good knee, causing him to scream out in pain as his leg buckled beneath him, causing him to slump to the floor in agony.
Vernon's hand grasped the knee fiercely and moved it from side to side, Harry almost passing out with the white hot pain as he screamed.
"My my.." Vernon muttered in interest. "It seems as though I shattered your knee cap. How intriguing."
"A keen observation." Harry spat through clenched teeth.
The back of his uncle's hand felt bony and rough as it slapped across his jaw.
"Don't tell me the knee cap was your climax?" Harry taunted in spite of himself.
He heard his uncle's breathing grow dangerously low and raspy. A fist caught him square in the ribs and forced all the air out of his lungs, followed by another, and another, and another. Blood trickled lightly down the corner of his mouth. Harry could feel his ribs cracking under the pressure of his uncles knuckles. Seemling satisfied with the damage he had caused to Harry's chest, he moved onto the face once more, punching him hard in the nose, which broke on impact.
Harry grasped it securely with his good hand as blood came gushing out of it in a torrent, streaming down his chin and onto his chest. As the blood entered his mouth he spluttered repulsively, the warmth making him feel sick as it trickled down his thoat. Vernon grabbed him by the hair and dragged him out into the middle of the room, tearing open the old wounds on his back. Harry clawed at his Uncle's hand desperately as he felt the hair being ripped from his head under his own weight. His fingernails sunk into his uncle's flesh successfully, enraging him further. He threw the boy aside, slamming his head into the wooden floor.
"How dare you touch me." Vernon spat on the boy's upturned face. "You freak."
Harry heard him draw in a sharp intake of breath as he examined the puncture marks he inflicted, and he cursed under his breath.
"You'll pay for that boy." Vernon said quietly, then suddenly his footsteps retreated heavily from the room.
Harry could have laughed. Pay for that? How in God's name could he do anything worse than what he had already done? He listened to the pounding footsteps fade away across the landing and enter the master bedroom. Harry released a long held breath and winced as his ribs stabbed at him. He tried to move, drag himself to a more enclosed area, he felt exposed in the middle of the room, and somehow in more danger. He flinched as something shattered on the floor in the master bedroom and Vernon cursed loudly. Regaining his composure he attempted to drag himself away again, biting his lip to prevent himself from crying out in pain as his limp legs stretched from the weight.
After a series of muffled thuds and rustling, the footsteps pounded back toward Harry's room steadily, making the whole house vibrate with their hostility. Harry tried to drag himself more quickly but found the pain so unbearable that he didn'tget far before Vernon's footsteps stopped right behind him.
"That's the awkward thing about being blind." He said, his voice filled with malice, "You can never tell when you're dragging yourself around in circles."
Before he could answer the flat of Vernon's boot connected with his back and shot him forward with such force that he fell to his side and rolled several feet. Dazed from the force he clawed his way back upright, clutching his head in his hand. The flow of blood from his nose started a fresh and he spat out a mouthful onto the floor, the taste overpowering his senses.
"What? No retort?" he said with a smirk. "I must be getting some of that 'touch' back then, am I?"
Harry felt something sharp slash the skin on his upper left arm. He felt the cut bulge open and burn hot in the cold air, followed by the warm flow of blood that he was sure he must be running out of. He clutched the wound tightly to keep the air off it.
"Here's something we havn't tried yet." Vernon said, highly proud of himself. "All this time, and I'd completely forgotten about knives. Can you believe it?"
He slashed at Harry's back, hitting bone, which caused Harry to scream out, more in horror than in pain.
"And knive's are so much fun too," Vernon continued, ignoring his scream, "I don't know what came over me."
"I'm guessing," Harry panted, "That you got lost in the moment.."
He felt the back of his uncle's hand across his jaw once more, and heard blood spatter across the wall. The knife came from the other direction and slashed his thigh open. The empty fist came around again and snapped his head in the other direction. Harry felt the bruising rising on his face, he knew it was swelling, his face had swollen and gone down, swollen and gone down for days on end. He was used to the process, the tightness, the stinging, the relief as it eased off. The fist came around again and snapped his head in the opposite direction.
Harry heard the knife clunk to the floor beside him. He felt Vernon's open hand close about his throat again, squeezing ever so slightly, just enough to restrict his breathing further. Harry wheezed uncomfortably, it was already hard enough to breath with his broken ribs and severe swelling, and his uncle knew it. He increased his pressure slowly, and Harry knew he was watching him with great satisfaction as he felt the dizziness come on. Harry tried weakly to prise his Uncle's hands away from his throat, his own nails scraping his throat as he tried to dig beneath his uncles fat fingers that would not budge.
Vernon laughed, thouroughly enjoying himself as the boy grew weaker from lack of Oxygen. Harry desperately clawed at his uncle's hands, the sensation of not being able to breath becoming unbarable, he tried to scream but nothing emerged except a hoarse release of air which he could not regain.
He was floating. Lights swam before his darkness and he vainly tried to swipe at them, always missing. The weightlessness of his body was surreal and as all the sensation in his body seemed to vanish he believed for a moment he was dead; until his uncle released his throat and let him slide limply down the wall into a crumpled heap on the floor.
"Tomorrow then?" His uncle said as he stood up slowly, picking up the knife.
He turned and Harry heard his footsteps retreat out of the room. His door slammed shut. Footsteps echoed back to the master bedroom, then retreated down the staircase. Tears trickled from the corners of Harry's eyes, creating clean lines through the dried blood on his face. He lay in that crumpled heap for what must have been hours, not moving, barely breathing, tears flowing softly and silently down his face, over his chest.
In those long hours he wished that his uncle's coarse hands had squeezed the life out of him, not just left him in this pain and misery for another night. He thought that perhaps if he lay still enough his body might decide it was time to give up, and offer him the sweet release of death. As the seconds dragged by his thoughts swam through his mind. Thoughts of Dumbledore, his parents, Sirius. He wondered if Sirius and his parents were all together again now, at peace. The thought made him hope that soon he would be joining them in their peace and tranquility. Then he thought of Hermione.
"Harry.." Hermione said uneasily as her lips parted gently from his.
He looked her over with his dark green eyes, the whites tinged with pink from where his coarse tears had agitated delved into her own deep hazel eyes, and he saw a beauty there that he could not describe, a beauty that had escaped his notice all these long years until a few moments ago. He saw a twitch of unease flicker through them and suddenly he looked away, mumbling a barely coherant apology.
"Don't apologize.." She said, gently lifting his head with her hand to look into his vibrant eyes once more.
She ran those same fingers gently down the side of his face, he closed his eyes at the sensation those fingers caused. Her hand traced around the back of his neck in a caressing touch that continued as she ran her fingers through the back of his hair. A plesant shiver ran through his body from the base of his neck and jolted in his lower stomach. Reaching forward with his hand he gently caressed her face as he pulled her closer and kissed her deeply.
Placing her arms lightly around his neck she leaned back as his arms found their way around her upper body, their lips rarely parting as he leaned over her, sliding one hand gently under the back of her shirt. His hands felt rough against the sensitive skin of her back and she shivered at his touch, moving her hands slowly, caressingly down his back then up under his shirt. His lips curved into a smile feeling her delicate hands on his flesh, so soft and smooth. He kissed her bottom lip playfully, feeling her hot breath come is gasps past his cheek as he ran his hands over her back, fumbling with the clasp on her bra strap.
As he slid her shirt off over her head, her tangle of brown hair falling across her chest, he began kissing down her neck, feeling her body quiver beneath him. His lips on her neck sent waves of delight shooting through her body as she arched up to meet him. She moved a hand up and ran it gently through the back of his hair, her other hand tracing patterns up and down the skin of his back. His warm breath in her ear made her moan softly in pleasure as he slid her bra straps from her shoulders, threading it off her arms and disguarding it carefully next to them.
As he looked down at her beautiful form he ran his hand down her side which gave her a jolt of pleasure as she leaned up and pulled the shirt off over his head, bringing his naked torso down ontop of her as their lips met once more. He groaned softly as he felt her fingertips brush around his side and down to the button of his pants where she fumbled awkwardly with the button and the zip. Through their kiss she gave a small laugh as she finally managed to undo them and slide them down slightly.
Harry smiled at her laugh, kissing her passionately as he ran his open hand up under her skirt on the inside of her thigh, causing her to gasp lightly, the cold of his hands increasing her longing for him. brushing his fingers lightly up her side to caress her breasts she moaned gently, running her hand up his muscular bare chest...
...A pain like somebody driving a pick axe through Harry's skull jolted him out of his memory so fast he jerked in alarm, screaming in agony. From this one point, several jolts of the same severing pain cut through him like shards of glass, shooting through every inch of his body. The pain was unbearble and he writhed on the ground, clutching his head in his hands, feeling that if someone were to rip it off his shoulders he would feel more comfort than he did at this moment.
The pain was so severe he had felt nothing like it ever before, the cruatius curse paled in comparison to the torture this pain provided him with. For a fleeting second, Harry assumed that Vernon had crept up on him when he was preoccupied with his thoughts and decided to deliver the final blow. Only after a few seconds he realized he could hear his uncle's voice screaming up at him from the bottom of the staircase to shut up. The pain stabbed him like burning hot knives, piercing every inch of his body.
He jerked about on the floor, wondering if this was what death felt like, if this would be his final moments. Was this some kind of delayed reaction to all the physical torture he had endured in this room? Somehow it felt different, more severe, more powerful. It felt like something he had almost forgotten what it was like to be in the presence of. It felt like magic. Dumbledore's words echoed in his head as he screamed in terror.
"..No one can harm you while you remain in your uncle's house..".
He had of course meant, No wizard can harm you while you remain in your uncle's house. For it had been proved ten fold that he could be harmed within these walls, what was left of his flesh gave witness to that fact. But Harry knew that feeling, that power that ripped through his body. Something was burning into him so deeply he was near passing out from pain, and it was, without a doubt, magic of some form. However, according to Dumbledore's words, this was impossible.
Why should i trust him? Harry reasoned with himself through his agony. Look where's its got me so far? Lied too.. Sirius dead.. Attacked.. Tortured by my nearest living relative's husband.. Left for dead in his house..
No matter how delerious from pain he was, he knew magic when he felt its presence. The question was whose magic? And why? Had Voldemort finally discovered his weakness, that his magic was bound and come to finish the job? Had Dumbledore underestimated Voldemorts powers when he said that he would not be able to break through the anti-apparition/portkey wards? Harry was panicking, he knew if the pain did not kill him soon it would surely drive him insane. His thoughts flew to Frank and Alice Longbottom, and he struggled with the thought that he may soon be sharing a ward with them.
Explainations raced through his head as he thrashed about against the wall, now attempting to knock himself unconcious, praying that the pain would subside. If someone was trying to kill him, they were taking an awful risk at hanging around so long. He knew the ministry would be tracking any use of magic at his address. As though reading his thoughts, it seemed that soon it would be all over. As suddenly a great surge of pure burning pain seemed to explode from his body, and into his world of darkness a big swirling mass of light burst before him. As he lay flat on his back, temporarily paralysed with agony, he stared into the mass of light that seemed to shoot off bolts every now and then, engulfing all of his vision.
"What the hell is going on here?" his uncle roared as he crashed through Harry's door and stopped dead in fear.
He can see it too. Harry thought to himself in a daze.
Vernon indeed saw the great domes of light engulfing his house, but he barely had time to acknowledge what was happening. Harry did not see him, nor what happened to him, He only heard the wall opposite him blow out as though something burst through it. Vernon spoke no more. He had been thrown from the room, right through the wall with tremendous force, tumbling head over heel down the narrow staircase and came to rest at the bottom of it in a daze. Realizing that something was horribly, horribly wrong, he staggered out of the entrance way and into the living room.
"Petunia?" He called out in alarm scanning the room for his wife.
"Here Vernon!" She called, her head emerged from behind the sofa, where Dudley and herself were cowering.
He leapt over to them faster than any of them had seen him move in his life and ducked down with them, fearing the worst. The boys magic had broken free.
An almost instant wave of relief passed over Harry as he lay staring at the light, the pain began to subside. The underlying pain of his injuries remained, but it was nothing in comparison to what he had just experienced. He found his parents silver ring and clutched it in his good hand, squeezing it tightly, his only link to reality. But then he heard it. The sound of glass cracking and splitting slowly, like when it has been heated rapidly then subjected to severe cold. Alarmed, he held his breath in his chest, listening to the cracking noises. After a few seconds he realised that within the great mass of light, tiny cracks were beginning to form.
What now? he thought desperately.
He could feel the pressure of the magic building steadily, and as it did, more cracks appeared, sprouting off of cracks in the dome of light. He watched them grow as if in a dream, completely detatched. He felt it first, the pressure surge. Then came the shattering noise as all the cracks merged and pieces of the dome began to fall around him and dissapear. But before the last pieces hit the ground their was a strange tugging at his navel and he was spinning uncontrollably through the air. He had felt this sensation before. When he touched the cup in third task of the triwizard tornament...
He landed with a thud on what felt like a rich throw rug that covered a hard wooden floor. Silence. The sound of silence overwhelmed him and he realised that he was no longer at Number 4, Privet Drive. All was black again, he could not see anything. He reached his hand out slowly to raise himself to a sitting position, attempting to sense if he really was alone. In the confusion, he had almost forgotten that his body was broken, and the movement on his part caused a severe jolt of pain which made him yell out and slump back to the floor. Overpowering dizziness came over him and he again experienced the weightless feeling his uncle had given him earlier when he had choked him. From somewhere around him he heard approaching footsteps, but could not move to protect himself. Through his sliding conciousness a form of light appeared in the black, stopped then moved towards him in haste.
The figure of light knelt down next to him and put its fingers to his throat, breathing shallow breaths as if frightened. Her smell reminded him of something he couldn't place, a smell connected to a memory.
"James?" A woman's voice called in distress, "James! In here! Come quickly!"
Her voice was the last thing Harry heard as his conciousness faded away, and all became dark and restful.