Hi there. Okay, so I know starting another major project when the first one is not the smartest idea but this idea has been pricking at me. This story contains IMPLIED RAPE so just a warning for anyone out there who might be triggered. This chapter also contains suicidal thoughts so in other words, this is a bit of a dark story. Thank you heaps to Saturnine Spiders for betareading this for me. Please read & review everyone, I'd love to know your thoughts.

1. The Worst Summer

Harry Potter was different from most people his age. For starters, summer holidays were the worst time for him. This was mostly due to two reasons. The first reason was that he was a wizard. The second was the fact that the only living relatives that he had were his Aunt and Uncle as well as their son Dudley. His mother and father, James and Lily Potter, had been killed many years ago by Voldemort, the darkest wizard of all times. No one knew why he had attacked the Potters, but Harry was the only to survive the attack which was why he lived with the Dursleys.

The Dursleys were what you would call a muggle, the term that a non-magical folk donned with a preconception of what they were to wizard and witches, an abnormality, but that was putting it mildly. They had locked up Harry's school supplies (including his holly wand!) in the cupboard underneath the stairs which made the task of doing his homework, impossible.

It was thanks to the Weasleys twins, Fred and George Weasley though that Harry was able to get his stuff once his relatives had gone to sleep. Last year, they had rescued him when his relatives had put bars on his window, locking him inside his own bedroom. They had picked the lock to get his school stuff from there, something which Harry had quickly picked up on. It was a good thing too because otherwise he knew his Potions Professor, Professor Snape would look for any excuse to give him detention for a month.

Things at the Dursleys had never been the greatest, but this year, his Uncle had taken a nasty turn. He would come home drunk a lot nowadays and the littlest things would set him off. Harry was even sure he had heard his Uncle yell at his Aunt even though she had denied it afterwards.

And when it came to him, the punishments had gotten a lot more extreme than they ever had been before. His friend Ron Weasley had tried calling him using a muggle telephone - tried as in he had called but ended up shouting into the telephone. Uncle Vernon, half drunk and half furious had dropped the reciever as if it were a poisonous spider and rounded on Harry.

"HOW DARE YOU GIVE THIS NUMBER TO PEOPLE LIKE YOU?!" Vernon yelled, striking Harry down so hard that he began to see stars. He barely had the time to recover before Vernon unbuckled his belt. He felt the strike of the belt harder each time it touched Harry's skin and as the lashes became harder and faster, Harry was screaming.

It hurt and he hadn't eaten in awhile so it hurt even more. His eyes watered and soon he passed out from the pain. He still had bruises from that punishment alone. When he came to, he was back in his room and noticed that there was a bottle of Ibuprofen and a glass of water on the side table. Thinking Dudley or Aunt Petunia might have left it, he attempted to sit up albeit pain ran down his body and he winced. Maybe he shouldn't have asked Ron to call him after all...why didn't Mr. Weasley teach him how to use the telephone?

It would have saved a lot of hassle for him if Ron had just spoken properly instead of yelling - although chances were, Uncle Vernon wouldn't have let Harry and Ron talk either way. Biting back a scream of pain as he got up at a snail-like pace, he put the Ibuprofen tablets in his mouth and swallowed them down with water. He closed his eyes, wishing somehow, someone would take him away from here. In all honesty, he'd rather live in an orphanage than live with the Dursleys.

He allowed his head to fall back onto the pillow, his world fading to black once more.

Pained screams and melodic crashes of glass brought Harry out of his stuporous sleep, and he heard the distant moan of Dudley's sobbing. His head was pounding as swung his legs over the edge of the bed, the ache a dull burn now, but it didn't stop him from stumbling as he got to his feet.

He crept his way downstairs, careful to keep close to the wall. His eyes widened at the scene before him. Petunia was caked in shards of glass, cringing in pain as Uncle Vernon rained his fists upon her wan flesh. Harry could only stare at her helpless silhouette before his Uncle's beady eyes fell on him. He stumbled towards him, grabbing him roughly by a few strands of hair.

"Let me go!" he cried, struggling against him. He was tempted to use magic because Uncle Vernon's grip was too tight but considering how uncaring the Ministry of Magic was, it could lead him to losing the only home he ever had. So thus he simply continue struggling as much as he could even as he was dragged into the living room.

"V-Vernon stop please," Petunia begged her husband. "Pleaseā€¦"

For a fraction of a minute, Harry stopped struggling to see the large handprints on her face and neck as well as

her cracked lip as well as Dudley huddled in the corner, looking terrified. He didn't have time to worry about his Aunt and cousin though because suddenly he felt the large beefy hand wrap around his throat and lift him up. He felt his vision blur and he was momentarily disoriented. He couldn't see, he couldn't speak, he was drowning, and Harry could only sink. Was he going to die? Why was it wrong to use magic if it was to save his own life? He didn't understand. He never understood why he had to remain in a place like this. He knew he had to do something before something even worse happened than had already.

Luckily or unluckily depending on perspective, Vernon did throw Harry on the ground before he could completely run out of air but his vision was still slightly blurred and he struggled to see what was going on. He began squirming as Vernon began tearing through his clothes. No, no what was going on? A kick to the ribs forced him to stop struggling as tears rolled down his cheeks.

"You deserve this," Vernon snarled harshly. "You deserve every bit of what you're getting...you should've died. You should've died with those worthless parents of yours and you should have taken your Aunt with you. The whole lot of you are worthless pieces of shit."

"S-stop," Harry stuttered out, tears rolling harder and faster than ever as Vernon completely stripped him of his clothes. Right now, he did wish he had died that night with his Mom and Dad...his face flushed in shame as the cold air caressed his bare flesh. He didn't really understand what was happening but he did understand he wanted Vernon's meaty hands away from his flesh.

It seemed as if the worst was to come. He visibly shuddered at the hands roaming his body and wished Vernon would just strangle him and end his misery. His eyes welled with tears and his cries didn't stop as he felt a sharp intrusion prickled into him. No, no, he didn't want this.

Please! Someone just get me out of here...oh god please, I don't want this anymore. I just want it to end please. His hands trembled and came towards his throat, wanting to end this misery himself. He began slowly squeezing and wondered how much he would have to squeeze before he ran out of air and joined his parents in death. He could feel his breath becoming tight but before he could squeeze anymore, Vernon was pulled off of him by two bigger men...at least they looked bigger from his blurred vision.

"Harry," Petunia's voice was meek but Harry couldn't speak. He didn't want to speak. He just wanted to sleep. He wanted to forget. He wanted to forget this had ever happened. He wished he had succeeded in ending it himself because now...with another intervening, it didn't take away the feeling that someone had drenched him in murky swamp water. He was still alive when right now, he'd rather not be.

With these last thoughts in mind, his eyes fluttered closed and he drifted off, not wanting to think anymore because thinking was much too painful and the sweet call of darkness beckoned to him like a child. So he welcomed it, allowing it to consume him and he knew no more.