As Long as You Love Me
Disclaimer: The one and only for this story. I do not own Harry Potter because if I did, I'd be richer than rich.
Note: I need a beta so if anyone is interested contact me.
Chapter One: A Terribly Messed Up Life
"YOU USELESS PIECE OF FILTH," Harry's Uncle Vernon yelled, kicking him in the ribs. "we feed and clothe you for years and what do you do? You send a bunch of freaks to threaten us you ungreatful son of a bitch!" he yelled for the millionth time that summer. He kicked him agian.
"Get out of my sight." he said, walking into the sitting room to watch television with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. Harry didn't need to be told twice. He got up painfully and left the house. He crossed the front lawn with a slight limp and stepped over the low garden wall. Then, checking that neither Uncle Vernon or Dudley were following him, he strode quickly up the street.
It wasn't his fault the Order had decided to threaten the Dursleys. He certainly didn't ask them to but his uncle wouldn't listen to reason and Harry was not stupid enough to point it out. He wished they hadn't for it had only made things worse.
'Some family.' he thought, walking on. He harly noticed where he was going because it was the same place he always went after one of Uncle Vernon's beatings. The Park. It saved him more insults and beatings. He looked up at the sky, it was dark and the moon was out and shinning brightly.
Harry turned the corner into Magnolia Crescent; halfway along, he passed the narrow alleyway down the side of a garage where he'd first set eyes on his godfather, Sirius Black. He felt a sharp pang in his chest of pain and loss at this. Sirius was the only adult he'd known who'd ever genuinely cared for him, loved him. Now, because of him, he was gone. Just like Cedric, just like his mother and father, just like nearly anyone who'd ever given a damn. Just like everyone he'd ever cared for, gone.
Harry fought back tears as he walked on.
'Well,' Harry thought, as he crossed Magnolia Crescent, turned into Magnolia Road, and headed toward the moonlit park. 'Its not as bad as it could be. Wait, yes it is. But its not entirely my fault. But it is mostly.'
Well he was right about one thing, it wasn't entirely his fault Sirius died. If Dumbledore had told him the truth when he should have, none of this would have happend. If Dumbledore would've stopped treating Harry like he was four and trusted him enough to tell him of the prophecy and his destiny, he'd never been lured to the Ministry to save Sirius. He was not something fragile that would break if touched. He'd gotten the Sorcerer's Stone in first year, killed the Basilisk in second, warded off Dementors in third, flew around a dragon to snatch a golden egg, been attacked by Grindylows, threatend my merpeople, faced nasty things in the maze in fourth, survived attacks by a pack of angry Centaurs, murderous Deatheaters, avoided being crushed by Hagrid's half brother Grawp last year, and faced down and survived Voldemort on five seperate occasions. He was by no means weak and helpless.
He vaulted over the locked park gate and set of across the finely cut grass. The park was as completely desolate and deserted as the streets around it. He reached the small lake near the center of the park and sank down onto the sandy bank. He watched the water lap agianst the side as if it were trying to get at him. The chilly wind blew threw his hair, making it untidier than it had been. He stared down at his hands.
There, carved into the back of his hand still clear as crystal, was the hated phase that he'd been force to put there. 'I must not tell lies' shown brightly in the moonlight. Oh how delighted had his uncle been when he saw that. He'd shown it to the rest of the family saying,
"Now there's a proper punishment boy. Let's try it out shall we?" He gone and gotten a kitchen knife and, holding him down, carved the words 'I am a freak.' , 'I am unworthy of being anything other than a slave.' and 'I am a piece of filth who should have been drowned at birth.' on his back. He knew the scars would never fade and would stand clearly on his skin for life.
'Oh, goody, another bunch of scars to carry.' he thought. 'But at least they're not famous.' A tear fell from his cheek as he thought of the abuse he'd suffered and his godfather's last words to him.
"Harry, take the prophecy, grab Neville and run." The Prophecy, his destiny, his godfather. It actually made him hate Sybil Trelewny with a vengence. She'd made the damn thing, set Voldemort after him, and ruined his life.
"Divination sucks." he muttered, another tear falling. Finally, he broke out in tears, his head in his hands. For his godfather, for his parents, for himself, and for his terribly messed up life.