Vernon Dursley hated his nephew more then anything else in the entire world. To be rid of him once and for all would be worth anything. He had been thinking about this for a long time, and had finally come to the conclusion that anything included murder. So it was on a calm July night, the night of the boy's birthday that he walked up the stairs with a knife, several ropes, long pins, lighter, and gag.
He had it all planned out. He would tie the boy down, and make him scream, but none of his screams would be heard. When the boy could scream no more, he would take the knife, and ever so slowly drive it up through the boy's heart, and they would be rid of him forever.
Vernon Dursley approached the padlocked door, and took out his keys. Lock after lock opened, and finally the door was free. The boy was sitting on his bed staring at the clock, but he looked up when the door opened, "uncle?" he asked. Vernon didn't think the boy had he right to call him that. He approached the bed, and the boy scooted away in fear of the look in his uncles eyes, "what…"
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Harry potter was used to being beaten. It happened almost every day, so at first when the door opened he did not look up, but when he did not hear the usual thundering footsteps that accompanied such beatings he did indeed look up, "Uncle?"
His uncle was approaching the bed slowly, his arms full of various tools, and torture devices. Harry could deal with this, if not for the look in his uncle's eyes. It was the look of a madman right before he kills you. The look of someone who has crossed the bridge of rational thinking. The look of some one who was about to kill, "What…"
Harry scooted back away from his crazed uncle, pressing his back against the bed post. The metal bars opened an old whip wound, and caused him to wince. Harry wasn't sure how it happened, but some how, he found himself gagged, and bound spread eagle to the bed. This was new for his uncle, but Harry knew what was happening. He was going to die. When the knife first entered his skin he wasn't surprised. When his uncle was pounding into him, and calling out in pleasure, he still wasn't surprised. And when that dirty blade finally found its way to his heart, he was begging for it.
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Vernon Dursley was blissfully happy. He had enjoyed himself more then ever before that night. He had tortured, violated and killed his nephew, and it all seemed so right. After all, he hadn't done anything wrong. He had just helped to clean the world. Even the boy couldn't say he had done anything wrong. He had been reunited with his abominations of parents. That was every orphan's dream, so the boy couldn't say he wasn't begging for it.
Petunia would be so proud. They could finally be normal again. They wouldn't need to worry abut awkward questions that they couldn't answer. There would be no more fake stories to spread, or excuses to create. They could forget about abnormal creatures. Dudley would get his room back, and they would be the most normal people on the block. Envied by all of the others. It would be perfect.
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Albus Dumbledore was an exceedingly famous man. Almost everyone loved and trusted him. He had made a name for himself, and was very good at keeping that good name, no matter the cost. Presently, the thing he needed was Harry potter. He needed the boy to trust him, and follow blindly where ever he was needed. Without Harry Potter on his side, Albus Dumbledore was noting.
In order to keep the boy under control, Albus Dumbledore had instructed his two best friends to spy on him. They reported back once a week. After all, who needed friends when your headmaster was paying you 100 galleons a week to spy on someone famous. Albus Dumbledore used everything that he learned to manipulate the boy. He planed all sorts of adventures, and scenarios, and they boy played right into his hands. Everything was going perfectly, until the wards fell at Number Four Privet Drive.
Harry was placed at privet drive because of 'blood protection', or at least that was what the boy thought. The real reason was that the wards there were tied directly to the boy's life source, and wouldn't fall until he turned of age, or died. As that night was only the boy's fifteenth birthday, there was only one possibility, and if Albus Dumbledore's suspicions were correct, then he had a very large problem on his hands.
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Severus Snape was a very solitary man. He did not like people, and proffered to spend his time brooding. When his floo opened late on a July night, he was not happy. When Dumbledore stepped through, he was intrigued, and irritated. And when he was told that the potter wards had fallen, he was in shock.
It was minutes later that he appeared on Harry potter's street, and sprinted to the door. The house reeked of blood. Potter blood. Not caring who saw, Snape ran up the stairs, and followed his nose to a door covered in locks. Several charms later, the door swung open, and Snape, despite his hardened stomach nearly fainted.
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Albus Dumbledore was not nearly as fast as Severus Snape, but he did know how to get past the anti apparition wards. By the time he got through, Severus Snape had just reached the bottom of the stairs. He sprinted forward as fast as his old legs would carry him. Nothing could happen to the potter boy. If anything did, he would be ruined.
Albus Dumbledore reached the top of the stairs to see Severus Snape leaning heavily against the door way. The man gasped out that Harry potter was dead, and sunk to the floor. Albus Dumbledore ran into the room. The boy had been beaten, and raped, and there was only one person who could have done it. Albus Dumbledore felt the boy's neck, and found no pulse. He was ruined.
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Severus Snape berated himself for being so weak and collected himself. The wards were supposed to protect Harry potter from death eaters, but apparently not from his family. Harry Potter had not been lying when he said he wasn't treated well. How could he have been so wrong.
Severus Snape entered the room to see a grieving Albus Dumbledore. Severus knew that Albus Dumbledore wasn't crying for the boy, but for the effect that the boy's death would have on his reputation. The thought was sickening. The only reason Severus Snape spied was because he wanted to be on the winning side no matter what. Both sides were equally bad, and he knew it.
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Harry Potter was confused. He had felt his heart stop beating, and he knew that he wasn't breathing, but he was still thinking. It didn't make any sense. His wounds weren't bleeding, and they didn't hurt anymore. Harry went so far as to note that nothing hurt. It was really quite comfortable. But he knew that the comfort was too good to last, and soon each and every cut began to itch. The itching turned to warmth, and Harry could feel his wounds begin to heal, but neither his heart of his lungs were working. All he could think was that it was exceedingly strange.
The warmth disappeared, and Harry was left wishing for some of his new clothing. He had taken the knight bus to Diagon Ally and he had purchased a whole new wardrobe. Everything he bought was comfortable, and made him feel like a real person. It was wonderful. When he was dressed in clothing that he picked out he could be himself, and he forgot to worry about what other people thought. Harry potter decided to forget that his heart wasn't beating, and that he wasn't breathing, and change his clothing. With that thought, a dead Harry potter opened his eyes
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Severus Snape watched as the boy's body began to glow, and as the wounds faded from existence. The occurrence shocking even Dumbledore. Severus Snape didn't know what he was witnessing, but it was most defiantly not normal. The glow faded from the boy's body, leaving scars behind where ugly gashes once were. Then they boy's eyes opened, and he sat up, and Severus Snape nearly died of shock.
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Albus Dumbledore was confused for the first time in his life. A dead boy had just sat up in front of him, after all of his wounds disappeared. Many things were possible in the wizarding world, but that, was most certainly not one of them. But all Albus could think of, was not how it was possible, but how lucky he was to have been given a second chance. His reputation was safe for as long as Harry potter could walk.
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The truth was that Albus Dumbledore had lost Harry potter a long time ago. He had betrayed the boy countless times, and his indiscretions would all be known soon enough. Harry potter's face tuned to a scowl as he saw who was standing over him. How he hated the man before him. He had caused all of his pain. He had caused all of the death, either directly or indirectly. And he had lied about everything. Harry potter stood, and gave Albus Dumbledore a glare that was fiercer then anything even the dark lord could muster.
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Albus Dumbledore recoiled in shock when Harry potter glared at him. Most said that glares couldn't kill, but at that moment, Albus Dumbledore wasn't so sure. He could feel his body start to heat from the strength of the glare, and it scared him. He couldn't comprehend why Harry would hate him, after all he had done for the boy. He had done nothing to deserve that type of glare, or the hatred that such a glare displayed.
Albus Dumbledore's mind began whirling. He tried to think of something suitable to say. Something that would quell the fire burning in those eyes. Nothing came to mind. Should he say something typical? Should he be grave? Should he be joyful, and offer the boy a lemon drop? Should he side with the boy against his uncle?
No. Defiantly couldn't side with the boy about that. It would come back to haunt him. Vernon Dursley was only making him stronger anyway. Surely the boy could see that? He was helping him. Preparing him to meet Voldemort. Preparing him for the war where he would either kill or be killed. Yes. Vernon Dursley was a blessing.
The manipulative leader of the light settled on, "Harry my boy! We were afraid we had lost you!"
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Severus Snape had no idea what was going on. One minute Harry potter was dead, and the next he was standing, fully healed, and glaring at Albus Dumbledore. Severus envied that glare. It was perfect in expression. It's meaning obvious. Truly powerful. It was amazing how much one could say without words, and it appeared that Harry potter had perfected the science.
Severus too, was not sure what to say to Harry potter, but when Albus Dumbledore spoke, he was quite sure that he had said the wrong thing. The boy's eyes blazed, and began to glow in the darkness. Not unlike a cat's in an abandoned alley way. Severus Snape was quite sure that he could actually se fire in the boy's eyes. Harry potter gave a low growl, and his eyes turned black. Severus Snape stepped back in shock.
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Harry potter didn't understand what was happening. He only knew that the man in front of him had betrayed him. Harry potter couldn't believe that he would subject him to this kind of pain, and then have the gall to say that he was worried.
Harry felt himself be consumed with anger. It coursed through his very being. Filling him, and pulsing through his veins. He thought of how much he would like to kill the old bearded man in front of him. The desire was almost overwhelming. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that Albus Dumbledore was far more useful alive. The meddlesome old man didn't know when to hold his tongue, and when to speak, except to do anything other than manipulate people. While some extent of manipulation was bearable, the extent that he controlled people was overwhelming.
As far as Harry was concerned at that moment, Albus Dumbledore was no better than Voldemort. But at the moment neither could be killed, so he settled on asking the one question he didn't think he could answer by himself.
"Why am I not dead?"
- 12 -