Disclaimer: All charcters and world concepts are property of J. .
Disclaimer: This is not the work of CNG25 but that of Lilausty, originally published on .
Chapter 1: Pain
Misery was rife in the air of England. Wherever one turned, there would be an unhappy face staring at you. It was no different in Little Winging at Number 4, Private Drive where Harry Potter was currently residing.
Harry was an unusual boy in many regards, not the least the fact that he was a wizard, tasked with an insurmountable mission. Currently he was sitting on his bed staring at the wall, not seeing anything.
He had been there for two weeks and he was counting down the days, the hours, until he turned 17. People looking at him would not think that he was nearly 17, merely because of the way he looked. He was rake thin, with pale waxy skin and sunken eyes. Eyes that showed more horror and despair then should have been possible.
When Harry had first arrived back at Private Drive after Dumbledore's death, his relatives could immediately tell that something had broken within him. They were gleeful, and since then had been continually tormenting him more than normal. Petunia was practically starving him, refusing to feed him unless he did certain chores (which he didn't do). However, that was not the worst.
Dudley and Vernon had decided to step up Dudley's boxing training, and use a live punching bag. Of course Harry was always the best target, and he had the bruises to prove it. Harry for his part, was not doing anything they told him to do, but didn't fight back either. It was like he just didn't care that he was slowly dying.
'BOY GET DOWN HERE NOW!' Vernon bellowed from downstairs.
Harry sighed as he contemplated ignoring the direct order. However, his ribs hurt too much from the last beating to risk getting another. Swinging his legs off the bed he slowly walked down stairs. The Dursley's were in the kitchen with Petunia standing over the stove cooking dinner. She frowned at him as he walked in and sat down at the table opposite his cousin.
'What took you so long?' his uncle snarled.
Harry shrugged.
'You are to do the mowing this afternoon and then clean the car, or you wont eat tonight! Do you understand?' His aunt snapped at him.
Dudley grinned at him, obviously loving seeing his cousin being so run down. Harry looked at his aunt briefly, before nodding reluctantly, after all, he was very hungry.
WHACK!
Harry fell off his chair in surprise at the unexpected blow from his uncle. Gingerly he got up, rubbing his cheek, 'What was that for? I said I would do the chores!' He protested, glaring at his relatives.
This was all Vernon seemed to need, he rose up glaring daggers at his nephew, 'YOU DIDN'T TREAT HER WITH RESPECT BOY! WE TAKE YOU IN, FEED YOU, CLOTHE YOU, AND ALL YOU DO IS NOD PETULANTLY AT US!' He advanced on Harry who back pedalled quickly, his back to the wall.
Vernon raised his fist to hit him again, and Harry's hands automatically went to protect his already injured ribs.
Limping up the stairs, Harry collapsed onto the floor, not even making it to his bed. He wiped a shaky hand across his face, it came away bright red and he winced. He crawled over to his trunk and pulled out an old shirt which he then used to wipe the blood off.
He didn't know how much more of this he could take, but he knew that if Vernon continued to treat him like that, he would start breaking bones within the next few days. Harry pulled himself up onto his bed and lay there shaking slightly.
If the Order knew what was going on, they didn't do anything about it. This depressed Harry more than the actual beatings, because it meant that they didn't care about his well being, merely the fact that he was alive. Even his friends had stopped writing him, the last letter saying that it was too dangerous for now, but that they would get him away from Private Drive as quickly as possible.
If Dumbledore was still alive, he wouldn't have let the Dursleys do this to him.
Dumbledore…
Just thinking about his Headmaster, Harry's stomach tightened in grief. He was not always the most forthcoming individual regarding information, but he truly had cared for Harry, and was the closest thing Harry had to a grandparent or loving guardian.
But that relationship had been cut short by the same person that had robbed Harry of his own parents.
Snape.
Anger and hatred seemed to freeze Harry's insides. He swore that the next time he saw that greasy haired monster he would tear him apart. It would be more merciful then what he deserved, but it would appease some of the grief in Harry's heart.
It wasn't fair, everyone Harry cared about was torn away from him cruelly. Even those that were still alive, he had to distance himself from. He couldn't bear to see anyone else that he loved hurt because of him. Ron, Hermione and Ginny's faces swam before his feverish eyes, and tears coursed down his face.
He had told them that he wasn't going to be returning to school and without hesitation they had said that they would join him. Their selflessness was heart rending, but Harry wouldn't let them follow him into certain death. The mission that he had to complete was so daunting that even in his semi-conscious state, Harry felt despair envelop his senses.
Voldemort…
It all came back to bloody Tom Riddle and his determination to spread evil and terror around the world. Harry had long since accepted his role as weapon of choice against the monster, but he had never considered how he would complete his task. Dumbledore had always been there, explaining everything carefully so that Harry wouldn't stumble and fall. Now, however, Harry didn't know where he would begin, let alone finish the mission of destroying Voldemort piece by piece.
Harry vaguely heard a hoot coming from the side of his room. He painfully turned his head and fixed his watery eyes on the beautiful white owl that had flown through his window and perched on the cage sitting on his desk. He gave a weak smile 'Hey Hedwig, how was hunting?'
She hopped onto the bed, flapping awkwardly until she reached him, hooting softly. The concern in her eyes was palpable, and she nipped him gently on the end of his finger. Harry closed his eyes, 'I'm alright girl, but I do not know how much more of this I can take. Vernon is getting worse by the day, every time I go downstairs I half expect him to pull a gun on me and shoot me through the head. Sometimes I wish he would, it would be easier then what is ahead of me!'
Hedwig hooted reproachfully.
Harry sighed, 'You're right, if I died then everyone else would be stuffed.' He tried to sit up, almost crying out as his ribs protested against the movement. 'I wonder what the wizarding world would say if they could see their hero now?' he muttered to himself lying back down.
CRACK!
'Harry Potter sir! Dobby has come to help Harry Potter!' an excited voice said from somewhere close to the ground. Harry thought he was hearing things for a moment, but then the little house elf climbed up onto the bed. The concern in the elf's eyes was even more evident than it had been in Hedwig's.
Harry groaned slightly, 'I'm not that bad Dobby, just a bit sore, that's all.' He tried to soothe the upset elf.
However, the elf did not respond, instead, snapped his fingers and a revolving plate appeared carrying several bottles and a few hand towels.
'DOBBY DON'T!' Harry burst out, looking wildly around causing the elf to look up startled.
'Sir? Dobby is only trying to help' the little elf's lip started to tremble.
Harry shook his, forgetting how sensitive he was, 'I understand that Dobby, but if you use magic then the ministry will think that I did it, and I will be in trouble!'
Dobby grinned, 'Oh Harry Potter sir, you do not need to worry, a house elf's magic does not register unless we want it to!'
Harry narrowed his eyes, 'So you mean to tell me that when you landed that cake on my uncle's business partner's wife's head, you had to specially make sure that your magic registered?'
The elf looked uncomfortable, 'Yes Harry Potter sir, Dobby did.'
Harry smiled, 'Cool! I'll have to learn how to do that one day!' The horrified look on the elf's face was enough for him to add hastily, 'Just joking Dobby! I don't want to steal the knowledge of the house elves or anything!'
Dobby relaxed, 'Thank you Harry Potter sir, now, would sir please lift up his shirt so that Dobby can treat his injuries?'
Harry knew better than to argue, and meekly, albeit slowly, removed his shirt so that Dobby could work his magic. Quite literally, as he was using magic to bind the clothes and administer the lotions to the bruises.
After he had finished Dobby asked quite sternly, 'Harry Potter sir, who has been doing this?'
Harry gave an incredulous look, 'What do you mean who? Didn't the Order send you here?'
Dobby looked confused, 'No one sent Dobby. Dobby could feel that Harry Potter was in pain, and decided to help. Did Dobby do wrong?'
'No Dobby, I just assumed that the Order would be keeping tabs on me, that's all.' Harry replied wearily.
'Dobby does not know sir, but Dobby still wants to know who hurt Harry Potter!' the little elf said again, this time stamping his foot.
Harry grinned humourlessly at him, 'My family did this.'
Dobby nodded his head sadly, 'Dobby suspected, but did not know for certain. Is there anything Dobby can do Harry Potter sir?'
Harry eyed him thoughtfully, 'You could take a message to the Order for me.' The elf nodded enthusiastically so Harry continued, 'Do NOT tell them that I was injured, but simply say that I am ready to leave this hell hole, and I want to get out of here soon!'
Dobby nodded again, before disappearing with another CRACK!
Harry sighed, and settled down on his bed, feeling better thanks to Dobby's administrations. He drifted into an uneasy sleep, filled with snakes, rings, fists and black hooded individuals.
Several days passed, and Harry didn't hear from either the Order or Dobby. This depressed him even more, since his Uncle was by no means easing up on him. He knew he was looking worse and worse, as his Aunt had started lessening his work load, but it wasn't helping. He knew he was getting sick, and that some of his injuries were infected.
Finally, after one particularly nasty joint beating from his uncle and cousin, Harry decided he had had enough waiting around for the Order to get off their assess to help him. No longer was he going to play the good little boy, who was always victimised.
Harry glared at the wall, as he plotted out his escape from the prison he was supposed to call a home.