Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor am I making any profit from this.
Author's Note: Hello to all. This is my first real fic so please be kind. Honesty with finesse is appreciated. I hope you like, and please review.
Harry sat quietly watching Ron and Hermione argue about some random thing. He started to drift into his own thoughts as the train made its way across the country towards Kings Cross Station. He was analyzing and reanalyzing everything that had happened, from the moment he and Cedric touched the Tri-wizard cup, up until he got back. Stuck in a state of delusion, he was hoping that he could find some reason as to why he shouldn't be at fault. Sadly, this wasn't the case, he knew deep down that it was his fault. If he hadn't insisted they both take the cup, this wouldn't have happened, or if he had jumped in front of the oncoming curse, it would have been different.
"Harry?" Hermione called out. Harry was startled out of his revere and look over at her face. He noticed that she was staring at him intensely.
"What's up?" Harry asked, putting on a false grin.
Hermione bit her lip, as if she was unsure, "Are you okay?"
"Give him a break 'Mione! Geez he was just thinking. Is that suddenly a crime?" Ron asked mockingly, looking at her as if she was interrogating him.
"Hmph!" Hermione exclaimed clearly annoyed by his words.
"You up for a game of Wizards Chess mate?" Ron asked enthusiastically, as he set up the chess board.
"Why not?" Harry said as he smiled. Hermione just decided to take out a book and read for the rest of the journey.
Departing at the station, they all hugged and as normal told each other to keep in touch. As usual Harry was a little uncomfortable as Mrs. Weasley hugged him and told him that he was welcome any time at the Burrow.
Harry just nodded and waved as he headed over to where his uncle, Vernon Dursley stood waiting impatiently.
"Any longer boy and I would've come over there and dragged you away from those freaks myself." Vernon hissed angrily. Harry flinched at his uncle's words and hurriedly dragged his trunk and stuff over to the car. "This is going to be a miserable summer," Thought Harry as they pulled away from the station.
When they reached number 4 Privet Drive, Harry quickly unloaded his stuff into the cupboard under the stairs and went up into his "room." He figured he'd go to bed early and get some sleep.
Late in the night though, Harry started thrashing around in his bed, having a nightmare.
"NO!!!! Take me! Take me!! Please not Cedric!!" Harry screamed seeing Cedric get killed again.
Suddenly, he was pulled out of his dream. He looked around for a second, until he realized that he was being held by his shirt towards his uncle's bright red face, it would have been an amusing expression, except for the fact that he was angry and quite pissed.
"What the HELL do you think you're playing at boy?" Vernon hissed at Harry with malicious. Harry attempted to shrink away in fear at what his drunken uncle might do.
"Uncle Vernon, please umm…. Don't do anything tha..that you might regret later.." Harry trailed gazing into his uncle's deranged eyes. He'd never seen his uncle like this. Sure he'd gotten angry before Hogwarts, but anything that he used to do had stopped with the letters. Now, Harry wasn't sure that he could do anything to calm Vernon down.
"Don't talk to me you filthy piece of scum. I should never have let Petunia take you in all those years ago. Shoulda left you to freeze somewhere where your sad pathetic body would never be found. You're worth nothing you freak." Vernon said, letting the boy's shirt fall. Harry scrambled away from his uncle in fear, going as far as the little corner. There was absolutely nothing he could do to stop him.
When Vernon reached him, he kicked venomously at him with no mercy. After he stopped with the kicking Harry hoped that he had lost interest, but no such luck. His uncle swooped down and picked him up throwing him on the small bed. He'd taken off his belt, only to start beating Harry with it. Harry's back stung with the force of the leather belt, knowing it would leave gashes. He whimpered at the pain as the monster continued.
"You deserve this you little freak!!!! You're worthless, no one will ever come to save you, because no…..one….cares!" Vernon said dangerously. Harry looked into his eyes, and saw the truth. "Why would they care about me? I've always been a burden to them. Sirius could never take me, heck, I'm the reason he's on the run." Harry thought with defeat.
Vernon saw this and smiled easily, he was breaking the freaks will. Harry saw his smile and shrunk away. Vernon stood up and started to walk out, but stopped and turned around.
"You don't deserve to live." Vernon said smoothly, throwing a glass lamp at him with enough force to shatter on impact.
"And clean up that mess." And with that Vernon slammed the door shut. Harry glanced at the door and sighed relieved that he'd left. Very slowly Harry crawled out of the bed and started picking up the pieces.
"Where did life get so wrong?" Harry thought, thinking back through his life at the Dursleys. He was never treated very nicely, always the bare necessities, nothing more. But somewhere, Harry never thought it would get this bad.
The summers before, he would just get chores, slaps, and the tiniest scraps of food, but this one would be so much worse. He could already tell that the abuse would continue, for after all, he was Vernon's best scapegoat for problems.
Dudley had always hated him, and that would never stop, so he could always look forward to that. Aunt Petunia had some semblance of reason in her, but he doubted that would continue. He could tell that she was afraid of her husbands rage. Harry was glad though, that he was taking the beatings, and not her. She didn't deserve to be hurt, mostly because she wasn't a freak. This is how Harry reasoned that he deserved to be beaten and hurt, he was a freak.
Some thing brought Harry out of his thoughts; he looked down to see his palm bleeding from the sharp shards of glass that covered the floor. One by one he collected the glass and once he had enough, moved slowly over the rubbish bin to dump it. He was tiring quickly from the exhaustion of being beaten and from the blood he was losing from the spot where the lamp hit him, his head.
He laid his head to rest upon the bed and began to drift off.