The summer had been bad. Worse than any he could remember. This summer, the belt had been brought forth. He should have guessed that returning to Number 4, Privet Drive was a serious misjudgement, but where else could he go? Harry Potter, saviour of the wizarding world, had to be accounted for everywhere and every day. Harry Potter, it had been decided, was going to save the wizarding world again. And Harry Potter, though very few people knew it, was not at all happy about this decision.

**************************

Harry sighed and looked out of his bedroom window. Bedroom! Broom cupboard. It seemed like a really unfair irony that a nearly fully fledged wizard could be contained in a cupboard. All he had to do with his summers normally was to dream up spells to a)knock down his door with the maximum noise and magic and b) turn his only living relatives into a mouse, cat and dog respectively. However, he feared that in doing so he would create the worlds largest rat in his seriously overweight cousin Dudley. So, for the last 3 summers, Harry Potter, saviour of the wizarding world, had been unhappily staring at the chink of light shining through his cupboard door.

What a great holiday.

**************************

In truth, this was all Fred and George's fault. The ton-tongue toffee idea had been brilliant and hilarious, but very very painful on Harry's behalf. He'd never been beaten before, other than a few knocks from Dudley and his gang. But this year, everything seemed to be his fault. It started with a cuff around the ear, worked onto a violent push, and then.the kicking, the punching, the name calling.it seemed that Dumbledore had informed the Dursleys of what had happened that summer with Cedric. They never tired of tormenting him over it, calling him a failure, a murderer, a waste of space - names that shouldn't have hurt him, but they did. Right now, The Boy Who Lived was wishing he didn't. His head hurt, his arm hurt, he was fairly sure he had a broken rib or two, and some of the cuts on his back were infected. Everything hurt. All week he had been violently sick, probably due to lack of sleep. And tomorrow, he had to go to Hogwarts for the sole purpose of being tortured and mocked day in and out by Malfoy, Snape and the Slytherins, idolised by Ron and most of the Gryffindors and sniped at by McGonagall and Hermione for not working hard enough. And bloody hell, he had to figure out to hide the mess that was his face soon. Harry lay back against the bloodstreaked wall and groaned softly. Footsteps came up the stairs, spelling out one word over and over again - pain, pain, pain. Vernon Dursley, a piggy grin on his face, entered the room. This one was gonna hurt.