A/N: Hello, people! WARNING! THIS IS SAD!
I don't own Harry Potter.
I have no beat.
To Whom it May Concern,
I'm not very good at this, but I'll try anyway.
I know you're ready to toss this letter aside, or maybe even be ready to burn it, but I beg that you don't! This is important.
Several years ago, my parents were killed by the Dark Lord. I was sent to live with my muggleborn mother's magic hating muggle sister and her husband. They are perfectionists, exhibitionists and refused to have anything to do with anything that is considered 'abnormal'. They hate magic and in turn, hate me for being magical.
They treat me terribly. I was forced to learn how to cook at the age of four, because I needed to earn my keep and be appreciative of them taking me in when they didn't have to. I had to start my chores at the age of five. For the past eleven years, I've been trimming hedges, cutting grass, painting the house, planting gardens, washing dishes, dusting everything, waxing, sweeping and mopping the floors, washing and mending clothing, cooking all the meals and living in a small cupboard under the stairs.
Briefly, for a couple years while going to Hogwarts, I was given my cousin's second bedroom, but they put several locks on the door. They bolted the window after replacing the regular glass with tempered glass and then placed bars on the outside. I was only allowed a small cot and a broken lamp. They placed a cat flap on the door, so they could push food inside, if they even bothered to feed me. And I could only leave for chores or the lavatory. I could only take five minute cold showers and could only used the lav once a day, so I had to wait until I was allowed to go. They began locking away my trunk and school things after my third year, so I was alone with my owl the whole time.
This Summer, they decided to throw me back in the cupboard because my godfather passed and without his threat, they could treat me however they want.
Besides being treated like a House Elf my whole life, they did other things. They had stopped when my godfather threatened them, but once he died, they had free reign to do whatever they wished. No one would believe me when I spoke of the things they did, like they couldn't believe that muggles were capable of such things. Dumbledore especially told me that I was being rude and ungrateful. He has a Pensieve in his office. He knows I'm terrible at Occlumency and that I can't fabricate fake memories, but he refuses to believe me!
Only a few people do, but that can't very well do anything about it. My best mate and his brothers rescued me from here in my second year. Because they blew the window out, my uncle replaced the glass with tempered glass, preventing me from leaving even if the bars were pulled away again. But no one believes kids. What would we know about the harshness of the world, even though some of us have lost family to the war and do in fact know pain?
My uncle has been doing things, to try and 'beat the freakishness out' of me. My magic has somewhat erased the evidence. I read that they're called glamours. I have scars in places that people shouldn't be injured, my back looks like tree bark.
The beatings weren't so bad when the evidence would always disappear, allowing me to somewhat forget about it until the next beating. But when I was ten, my uncle went farther than he had ever gone before and it really hurt. It had stopped when my godfather made a threat, but now that he's gone, it happens all the time.
I'm told that I'm a freak and that it's all I'm good for anymore. If I were to survive this, would anyone I end up with (if I even did end up with anyone) take me, knowing how unclean I am? What my uncle has done, has tainted me further than any Dark Magic ever could. It hurts a lot, everywhere.
This is the point of this letter. It hurts, a lot. But it's okay now. It won't hurt for much longer.
I beg you to take this to Rita Skeeter. She has a particular way with ruining people's lives and there are several people I want ruined for doing this to me. For leaving me in this place and letting my uncle do these things to me. Enclosed with this letter is a list of my experiences at Hogwarts since my first year. Albus Dumbledore shouldn't be the Headmaster if he's allowing these things to happen to children. He's not as innocent as people think and I suggest speaking with Aberforth Dumbledore, owner of Hogs Head in Hogsmeade. I'd also like to point out that Albus Dumbledore knew for a fact that Sirius Black was an innocent man and yet let him go to Azkaban without a trial. Albus Dumbledore being the one to cast the Fidelius for the Potters.
Rita is a master as digging things up and she'd love the list that is included with this letter. She'll know all the right places to look when she gets her hands on this and has my full permission to use everything at her disposal and any abilities she may have in order to get the information she needs.
I beg you, whoever you are, that you do me this one favor, since I can't do it myself. I can feel the pain fading and my arm is becoming numb. It's okay. It's all okay.
Harry James Potter.
P.S. Please take care of Hedwig, she's brilliant and can make it past any wards out there. She's good and loyal too.
P.P.S. You'll find my body at 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. Thank you for your time.
Harry looked up at Hedwig and gave a faint smile. He tucked the letter in an envelope along with the other pieces of paper and sealed them inside. He gave her the letter, which she took sadly. She bumped her head against his.
"Take that to someone that we know hates Dumbledore, Hedwig. And stay with them. I won't be awake if you return."
He reached up with a bloodied hand and pet her head, leaving a red streak on the side of her head. "I love you, Hedwig."
She bumped heads with him again and took flight.
Harry laid on the floor of Dudley's second bedroom, where uncle Vernon had locked him in. In a last effort, he had used what he could of his magic to cast a silencing charm and then Bombarda Maxima on the wall, to let Hedwig out. By the time his uncle noticed, there would nothing he could do to Harry, because Harry would no longer be there.
But it was okay. He was glad. He'd be with Sirius, mum and dad soon. It was all okay.
Lucius Malfoy sat in his study, working on his never-ending pile of paperwork. He'd give anything for a distraction. Anything!
He jumped and looked toward the only window in the room to see a beautiful snowy owl sitting on the railing, holding a letter in its beak.
It hooted again.
He waved a hand and it flew into the room, landing on his desk. He took in the red on the side of her head and the red on the letter. Ink or blood?
He took the letter and did a quick scan with his wand to ensure that it was safe. When that was done, he opened it. There was a three page long list and then the actual letter.
He looked at the letter first, sure that he wouldn't understand the list if he didn't.
His eyes swept over the way it was written in the beginning and he was sorely tempted to ignore it. But when he read the words, 'This is important', he kept his eyes on the page.
Gradually his eyes got wider and wider as the letter went on. The poor child. Sticking a magical child in an abusive muggle home had to be the most detrimental thing to do to a child. And the hints of rape made him see red.
He experienced the biggest shock of his life when he read he name of whom the letter came from. And the post scripts after it nearly gave him a heart attack.
He was on his feet, running out the door. The owl, named Hedwig, or so he had read, followed him. He ran from the manor, intent on getting outside the wards. Hedwig followed and perched herself on his shoulder as he ran.
He Apparated when he reached the Apparation Point, making sure to keep the bird safe.
Lord Voldemort felt it when Lucius entered his wards at an alarming rate. In fact, the man must've been running, because he was outside his study within a moment.
There was a soft knock on the door and he sighed.
Said man walked in and knelt before him, his breathing was erratic and somehow, he had managed to remain in perfect condition, despite probably running a marathon.
"What have you come for, Lucius?"
He took notice of the beautiful owl on his friends shoulder and even more, he noticed the blood.
"I received a shock when this owl appeared, somehow making it past the wards and all, in order to give me this. I think you should read it, My Lord," Lucius answered, head bowed and letter proffered. "I don't have the right to deal with it but you do, My Lord."
The Dark Lord took the letter and took his time reading through it. Though he had guessed who it was from, half way through it, he was still angered to have his guess proven at the end.
"Isn't it obvious, Lucius? You're going to find this Skeeter woman and you're going to do everything you can to help her bring Dumbledore down. I however, have somewhere to be," he stated.
As he stood, he motioned for the bird to follow him as he left the room.
He was on his way to 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.
The street he appeared on was disgusting! He could never understand why muggles insisted on living in homes that resembled each other. The owl hooted and took flight, leading him to the right house. He noticed that the blood wards surrounding the property were gone and hadn't been fully active in years. Dumbledore's stupidity no doubt.
He easily unlocked the door and entered the house, not caring that the muggles inside would hear him. If everything in Potter's letter was true, then he was about to get some lovely torture victims.
"You! Freak! Get out of my house now! You are breaking and entering!"
Voldemort Stupefied the walrus like man and quickly took care of the horse and the mini walrus. He looked about the hall and noticed the cupboard, which was locked shut.
He blasted the door off and when he saw nothing, he moved toward the stairs.
His eyes landed on the door at the end of the hall. It was covered from floor to ceiling in all sorts of locks with a cat flap on the bottom. With the Alohomora, all the locks dropped and the door opened.
He didn't know what he expected when he walked into the room, but it sure wasn't what he was looking at.
Potter lay on the floor. Blood pooled around his naked body and the cuts littering his frame, were oozing more than just blood. He could see the small rising of the boys shoulders, which told him that he was alive, only just.
A dark aura was floating around the body on the floor and Voldemort was confused to feel his magic on the boy when he had had no contact with the child.
The darkness swirled slightly to form, him. A vision of him or something, similar to how his body was back when he'd first encountered the Boy-Who-Lived.
"Save him!" it demanded.
"Why should I?" he asked, though knowing full well that he did want to save the boy?
"He's a Horcrux! That's why I'm here and I can only keep him alive for so long since I don't have much power left! I've been collecting his power over the years I've nearly used it all up in just keeping him alive! Now get over here and do something! He's valuable and ours!" the image yelled.
Voldemort was moving quickly.
"Tergeo," he said, making all the dried blood disappear.
"Vulnera Sanentur," he mumbled, waving his wand over the largest gashes on the boys back, healing them instantly.
He used Ferula on the boys legs, bracing them just long enough until he got to Narcissa.
He quickly began chanting in Parseltongue, doing his best to heal every visible wound on the boy. He then turned him over when his back was healed. He ignored the boy's nudity in favor of just healing him.
When he ascertained that Potter was out of immediate danger, he sighed. Now he just had to Apparate them both to Malfoy Manor.
He ripped the tattered sheet from the small bed and wrapped it around the boy's waist. He then picked him up and Apparated.
He was walking immediately after appearing in the long drive of Malfoy Manor. Through the gates and into the great building.
"Mipsy!" he called.
"What can Mipsy bes doing for the Dark Lord?"
"Get Narcissa and bring her to me, now!" he ordered.
The woman appeared only seconds later and she was beside him immediately.
"What happened, My Lord?"
"Heal him first, then we'll speak."
Voldemort watched as Potter was covered in several different colors of magic. Narcissa taking her job very seriously. He was impressed when she managed to continue her work even after breaking down into tears.
"He's been severely injured. The internal injuries are horrible! He's been subjected to rape for such a long time, the poor boy!" she cried.
His anger skyrocketed. How dare those filthy disgusting muggles do something like that to a magical child! One who was revered as a hero! There were going to suffer!
A/N: How was it? Please let me know.
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