ULTRAVIOLENCE

Chapter 3: Real Men and Fake Men

Harry wasn't naive. At the age of eight, even Harry knew that the boogieman doubtfully existed. It had too! What else could it possibly be? However, despite his young age, Harry had come to the conclusion that not everyone saw the same boogieman. For example, Dudley saw the boogieman of spiders. He was terrifying with his long, curly eight legs and hairy body. Did Harry see him? No. Of course not. Frankly, Harry thought there were much more terrifying things than spiders. Like Tom. Yes. Tom was scarier than spiders. You see, Tom was Harry's relentless boogieman. There was no other thing he could be. Harry refused to ask him. Tom hated questions and he already hated Harry enough.

Tom normally came to Harry in his sleep, not often, but the rare moments he did brought fright to Harry's dreams, turning them into hopeless nightmares. It wrought Harry of sleep for at least a week, but sometimes, when desperate enough, Harry would wish, he would pray. It didn't always work. However, for two different occasions it had. Only for a day and then when the day ended, the nightmares would come back even longer, more terrifying than before. Luckily, Harry didn't remember them, the dreams that is. He just knew that he was utterly terrified of them and that it was all Tom's fault.

So...Harry had a plan. It was a stupid one, that the young boy knew for sure, but it was all he had. Doing something was better than doing nothing at all! It hadn't been a spontaneous thought. He would have to give credit to Ms. Brown, his primary teacher. They had been in the middle of class.

Ms. Brown was short for an adult, she had light brown hair, and wore thickly-rimmed glasses. She wasn't anyone Harry really favored, but she would always be ranked higher on favorability list than his aunt and uncle. "Class, now, we can finally talk of today's lesson. Fear. We all have fears."

One of Harry's classmates, a girl he believed to be named Lisa, hesitantly rose her hand. "Do you have a fear Ms. Brown."

"Yes I do. And if anyone tells you that they don't, they are lying." Ms. Brown said promptly. There were several shocked faces within the class. Harry had presumed that he was the only one with any common sense. "I, my dear students, am afraid of heights. I don't like planes or mountain hiking. It is a perfectly normal thing to be afraid."

"My da said that a man isn't afraid." A kid named Brian spoke up. Harry barely held down the twitch in his eyebrow. That was something his uncle Vernon would say.

Ms. Brown clicked her tongue, "Perhaps. But a real man is able to accept his fears and face them for what they truly are. Now I want each of you to tell me your fears. Be honest, please."

Harry had panicked. His heart had begun to throb throughout his chest as he tried to scramble for a reasonable fear. He couldn't say his aunt or uncle, or rather, both. He just couldn't! Briefly, his mind flashed in remembrance of uncle Vernon's belt. His lower back stung at the thought. Uncle Vernon wasn't really good with his aim, not that the man cared where he hit Harry (just as long as it wasn't the face, facial bruises were much harder to explain).

Spiders. The Dark. Flying. Snakes. One by one each student went alphabetically. Harry was soon to be called upon. Across his desk, his fingers began to tremble. What would he do? What could he do? Aunt Petunia would get uncle Vernon to beat him and that was only if she was too to do it herself!

Harry blinked and nervously nodded. "I am afraid of...I am afraid of the boogieman." It was hesitant and when he said it, he felt absolutely silly. He was Harry. He was supposed to be better than the rest of the kids in his class!

The class erupted in a ball of laughter. "The boogieman doesn't exist, Potter! Did your parents not tell you? I bet you still believe in Saint Nicholas!" The same kid, Brian, laughed, literally pointing at Harry. He felt outrage, humiliation, all things synonymous with shame.

"Quiet! Everyone quiet!" Ms. Brown snapped, before looking down kindly at Harry. "It's alright dear. The boogieman is a very serious fear, but the first step is to acknowledge that it doesn't exist."

She was wrong. Tom did exist. Harry had met the monster personally. He might not have really remembered it much, but he knew it was real! It had to be. If he didn't...That would mean Harry really was a freak. And he knew he wasn't a freak! If there was one thing Harry had learned is that aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon were always wrong, he couldn't admit it out loud (that would be suicide) but he could always feel it in his heart. "Alright." Harry stated, giving a fake, reassuring smile, "I'll try."

"That's very good! All of us should try and face our fears, like Harry is willing to." Ms. Brown said sweetly. Harry mentally thanked her, but at the same time, cursed her. Dudley was a year older than him, meaning he was in a different class, but there were plenty of other Dudley-like boys in his class. He could practically hear their animalistic snarls rising in their minds. He hated being called out.

Aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon didn't like Harry excelling in anything. It was a difficult thing to do, not excel at anything that is. Harry couldn't help it. He liked learning, he liked reading, and he liked doing. It was fun. That sort of hobby had begun to impact his grades postively. That wasn't tolerated at the Dursley household. Harry couldn't let anything make him stand out. He was a deviant, a delinquent. At least, that was what Little Whinging thought of him. His teachers, not so much.

The boogieman...Tom. Harry would have to truly face him somehow. That was the only way he could conqur Tom. Show him who was boss. Ms. Brown had experience with these sort of things. She was scared of heights after all, and Harry was sure that when Ms. Brown was a little girl, that there was someone or something that had caused her to hate heights. Much like his fear of Tom had caused him to well...hate Tom? And sleep. Harry did not like sleeping more than he had to.

The school day ended. Petunia didn't allow Dudley or even Harry to take the public bus. She claimed that it was too filthy, and that Harry was filthy enough already. Not a compliment, but Harry wasn't really going to complain. Public buses, having been forced to take one before, were a disaster. They were disgusting. Frankly, he would agree with his aunt Petunia on that subject. She at least cared that much.

The bell loudly rang. Harry shoved the papers off his desk and into his bag. It was a grey, ratty old thing that Petunia had gotten from a thrift shop. Harry kept his head down, it throbbed gently as he thought of all of the answers he would have put on his papers. It caused a twitch in his brain, to answer something wrong, to know that it would affect him greatly. But he thought of aunt Petunia's sharp nails, uncle Vernon's leather belt, and Dudley's meaty fists. All previous injuries, though plenty still lingered on his body, throbbed in an agreement that it was best if he did what he was told-and that was to fail.

"Harry...May I speak to you for a moment?"

Harry turned and looked at Ms. Brown. She smiled kindly at him, beckoning him 0ver with a casual flick of her hand. His peers pushed past him, one of them, specifically Brian, snickering about how he was in trouble. Harry felt his heart skip a beat. If he got in trouble, there would be grave consequences. "Am I in trouble Ms. Brown?" Harry said hesitantly.

"No, of course not." She reassured. "I merely wanted to talk about your grades. They have been rather poor as of late, astonishingly poor actually." She looked at him, her eyes wide, filled with some sort of pity. She pitied him.

Harry bit his lip, cutting off the iry thoughts. He didn't need her pity. "Yeah...School has just gotten a lot more difficult as of late."

Ms. Brown frowned, "Harry, you and I both know that you're lying. I don't tolerate being lied to." She tapped her fingernails against the desk. "You are perhaps one of the most intelligent eight-year olds I have ever met. Now, I want you to be able to talk to me."

"Um...Ms. Brown, my aunt is waiting for me. She won't wait long."

"She'll understand, Harry." That was when Harry realized without a doubt...when she looked at him with those eyes...He realized that this was a trap. Ms. Brown's eyes had tinted into a certain color, no, emotion. She was searching for something, anything. She wanted to get Harry in trouble. At this thought, Harry wracked his brain for an answer, an answer as to why she would do this to him!

Harry bristled, "Ms. Brown, I really need to leave."

"I can help you Harry. I can help you face your boogieman..." No you can't. Tom could only be defeated by Harry. After all, Harry was the only one who had made any contact with him. Not that Harry could remember it, he just knew he had. Ms. Brown looked expectedly at him, "Those people. They don't deserve a little boy like you."

"Of course they do! They're my aunt and uncle! Just what are you suggesting, Ms. Brown?"

Ms. Brown flattened her lips. "It is of no matter, Harry. I have already come to the conclusion that you are not safe in that house. I will not let you leave this perimeter until I am sure you are safe." She seemed to get up from her desk. But Harry, like a star-struck deer, looked at her for barely a second with the most fear-filled expression, and quicker than what anyone could expect of an eight-year old, he dropped his bag and took off out of the door. How did she even find out? He glanced back to see if she was following him, their eyes met, and Ms. Brown seemed to freeze.

ϟ

Laura Brown felt anger rise up as mentally her favorite student took a few steps back, looked at her suspiciously, and she could see the fight or flee ideals rising up within him. She had seen the bruises. He was clever, but he wasn't as clever as she. Sometimes his uniform shirt would rise up just enough to wear she could see the dark black bruises layering upon his pale, stark white skin. He never showed his arms. His glasses were broken in the center and Laura could see how much he struggled with his sight. Mr. and Mrs. Dursley were obviously not taking care of him and in fact, were beating him. It was despicable. Harry dropped his bag and began to skirt out of the room. Laura made a move to reach for the intercom buttom, but noticed Harry had turned around. She looked up.

A fierce red met with her timid green. She gasped. A terrible burning sensation began in her forehead. She let out a light cry of pain, her hand slamming against her head. Foolish muggle scum. I'll make you forget. I'll make sure you never speak of what you have seen. Harry Potter will never rise against me. Never again.

Her eyes turned into a dim red, mixing into her green, her expression formed one made of pure maliciousness. She pushed back, getting out of her chair. Laura walked out of her class-room. The students were almost all gone, a few of those who were related to the teachers remained behind, but they were mostly in the class-rooms. She held up a friendly hand, waving at those she passed by, a wide smile on her person. It was almost creepy. Almost. Most of whom she passed didn't even care to glance into her eyes. Perhaps she could have been spared? The world would never know.

She stopped in the middle of the hall-way, her eyes searching around for the set of stairs. With a silent laugh, she spotted them. Whatever was in her body seemed to sparkle with an utmost glee. Confidently, she walked towards them. Laura looked around herself, searching for anyone who may try and stop her. There was no one. She walked up the single set of stairs. Only faculty was allowed on the first floor. It was the only higher level of floor aside from the roof. Unfortunately, the first floor was not as easy to avoid her fellow teachers as it was on the ground floor. The moment she stepped off the last step, a loud and obnoxious voice called out, "Laura! I have the most interesting story to tell you! One of my students, Hermione Granger, great kid by the way, she held the most interesting conversation with me. You would love it! You would love her!" It was Frank Goodman, a fourth year teacher. He was a handsome man, barely in his thirties, with blonde hair and blue eyes.

"Some other time please. I have the most awful head-ache and I am going up to the roof to get some spare air. The children really stressed me out today." Laura said sweetly.

Frank looked down at her, his mouth narrowed. "What happened to your eyes?"

"One of my students got a little too enthusiastic with paint." Laura said dryly, letting out a laugh. It sounded too real and due to that, Frank bought her facade with ease.

He laughed, "I understand how that goes. That's why I moved up to year four, much more mature. A year really has an impact. Say what, I'll join you, I need a smoke anyway."

Laura's eyes darkened, erasing all of the green. "That won't be necessary." She bit out.

"Oh don't be like that Lauren. I don't have to smoke. I know how you feel about it." Frank shrugged. He let out a bright smile and wrapped his arm casually around her shoulders. The entity nearly jerked back. It briefly went through Laura's memories. It sneered. An affair amongst teachers. In class-rooms. Where the children sat, where they placed their papers. Muggles truly were sick. The Potter brat was still quite lucky to have someone like Ms. Brown. If the entity were feeling a bit more merciful, he would have let her go, but it turned out that the entity didn't exactly like mercy.

It decided to work this towards it's advantage. "Alright." Lauren purred. She seemed to push herself closer into Frank's chest. Frank took this as a means to slide his hand down her shoulder and around her waist, his fingers rubbing beneath her shirt. Giggling, they made their way to the next set of stairs.

Laura grabbed his arm and they exited out of the last door. The brightness of the sky hit them and she had to blink away the stings. Laura once again pushed herself at him the moment the door closed. Her lips met to his neck, passionately of course. Frank jolted, but then relaxed, he peered down at her. "Taking risks are we? I like it."

The walked to an area where it would be difficult to be spotted by any of the public. They settled to where they faced a play-ground enclosure. There was no one out, no one was allowed to be. Lauren and Frank were locked in a kiss. Her fingers slid around his clothed chest. She pushed him backwards, smiling in their kiss, her fingers slipped the buttons out. His shirt spilled open.

The entity inside Lauren smirked. Frank's hands were currently in her blouse. She let him unbutton her shirt as well. They stopped kissing for a moment. Frank pulled her shirt off with her help. Lauren glanced at her tanktop, and instead of just pulling it off, she pulled it down, revealing her white bra. She slid her bra-straps off of her arms and pulled the cups down, revealing her breasts. They were small for the average woman, but bigger for a woman of her petite size.

Frank pushed his hands up and groped the two breasts roughly. Lauren gave a fake moan. The two lovers were now at the edge of the roof. They were unconciously moving closer and closer to it. Lauren pushed her face back up to Frank's, she took his lips into her own, and nipped down on one. He chuckled. "So feisty today. That kid must have really put you in a mood."

"You have no idea." Lauren seductively growled. She let her hands flex over his chest. She ran her hands through the light blonde hairs that sprouted up on his chest. She then wrapped her arms around her neck, pushing her breasts tightly against his chest, and then pushed. Frank made a startled sound as he fell against the small, knee-length concrete wall. Along with Lauren's weight, they both easily toppled over the thing, and crashed towards the ground.

The red faded from Lauren's eyes, as did the rest of the life. She had fallen to the side of Frank, her hands still somewhat around his neck. One of her legs was twisted at an odd angle. Frank looked far worse than she did, having taken the brunt of the damage. His head was tilted into the ground. Blood quickly poured out into the grass. A nasty head injury. His neck was quite obviously broken.

ϟ

Harry was able to make it to aunt Petunia's car just in time. Annoyed, she looked over at him with a deep, heavy scowl. "You're lucky, boy, that I finished all my errands today and thus have nowhere to be." It was too good to be true that aunt Petunia was letting him off, even if it was only a few minutes later than usual, when she spoke once more, "however, dinner will be served later than usual. We're having Shepherd's Pie."

That was another thing about the Dursley house-hold. Harry had yet to be deemed old enough to be alone in the kitchen by himself (and he hoped he never would) but it was a plan that Petunia had groomed him for as far back as Harry could remember. Sometimes, cooking with aunt Petunia would be the most pleasant activity he would ever be able to do with his aunt, other times, it seemed like a terrible punishment sent from God himself. Harry didn't get the option to say no. He had before, back when he was around six. It hadn't ended well. As in his back had been beaten into all shades of the rainbow. Uncle Vernon tried not to aim for his butt, having made the mistake of hitting Harry so hard that he couldn't sit on his butt comfortably, and one of his teachers had called home, demanding to know why Harry was so bruised on his bottom. The Dursleys had learned their lesson. Don't hit where people can see or the parts Harry used often. It was too risky.

"Yes aunt Petunia." Harry said obediently. He bowed his head. His heart still beat. He had left his backpack in Ms. Brown's class-room. She would call aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon. Harry would get in trouble, probably not even be able to go to school tomorrow.

"Mum! I made a good grade on my test!" Dudley boasted. Harry raised his eyebrow, but refused to make a noise. A good grade in their house was 'C'. Average. Nothing special. Harry made worse, but he knew that if given the chance, he could make it into the top of the class. That would never be allowed to happen. Ever.

Aunt Petunia exclaimed proudly, "that's wonderful Duddy-kins! I am so proud! I can't wait to tell your father!"

Eventually, Harry began to zone them out. How would he confront Tom? How could he, was more of the issue. Harry didn't even know how he knew Tom, he was just able to recognized he existed. Able to recognize that he was the boogieman whom was responsible for all the terrible nightmares Harry would wake up from. He could never remember them, not vividly. Just flashes of an indescribable pain, a fleeting, anxious sensation that sent shivers down his spine. He would have to confront Tom eventually. He knew he would.

TO BE CONTINUED. This chapter got too long and I was taking forever in writing in. So I am very sorry about that. Make no mistake, Voldemort or the horcrux in Harry is a terrible entity. TERRIBLE. I will hopefully be exploring it a bit more, because I mean, Harry is a human horcrux. That has to have some sort of weird side-effects. I understand if it was a bit confusing. But the first two chapters were more back-story and hopefully all things you're curious about will be revealed. Thanks so much for the reviews, favorities, and follows. I have over 130 views! It is so exciting! All the favorites, follows, and reviews mean a lot!

Also, um, so I looked at the wikiepedia page. Can anyone simply explain to me how the British School System works. I am an American whose brain can't handle wikipedia's complex wording. I know, it's pathetic :(