Music Love Child
Disclaimer: Obviously I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter series because well, I'm not J.K Rowling.
Extended summary: The Golden Boy? More like Bronze, he was just a pawn and quite frankly he was sick of being beaten within inches of his life by the Dursley's and ignored by his so called friends. He decides to seclude himself into his music, it is the only thing keeping him sane, keeping his head level and able to keep a diary of everything he's experienced. But his diary isn't the only thing keeping Harry company, a mysterious internet love is just a click away and determined to see Harry despite how much the lion protests. After coming into his inheritance and meeting some new friends Harry is renovated into an entirely different person, one that is both loved and hated on all different side.
Warnings: This is a homosexual erotic-love tale if you don't like it then don't read it, it's as simple as that. Foul language, AU, Graphic detail of abuse, Ron, Hermione and Dumbledore bashing.
Author's Notes: I want to apologize to my fan base -as tiny as it is- I've been going through a lot of things as of late and I keep falling on and off with this story but I am bound and determined to finish it. I will be finishing this story and I want to thank those who have stuck with me through all of the; confusion, failed promises to update and so much more. So here is Chapter One, coming right back at you, revised, cleaned up, better than ever. In the coming chapters things will be more detailed in every way imaginable so I hope you enjoy yourselves.
Chapter One: Death, Deception and the Cupboard Under the Stairs
No one noticed. All the tiny flinches that he tried so hard to suppress whenever he was touched, even the slightest, most angelic of touches made him fear what that oncoming hand was going to do to him. No one ever noticed how ungodly obedient he was to anyone with authority over him. All the signs of abuse were there but no, no one ever noticed because the only thing that mattered about this one particular boy; the one that had lived in the cupboard under the stairs, that didn't know a lick about the world he'd gotten thrust into- was the scar on his forehead, placed there by a dark Wizard.
Pensive emerald green eyes stared out the window of the gleaming, scarlet Hogwarts Express as lush scenery sped past in the blink of an eye. He was dreading the thought of returning 'home' for the start of summer vacation because home wasn't a clearly defined term for him. For most, home was a place where loved ones were, where people loved you and you had home-cooked and laughter could be heard. Home was a place where parents and possibly siblings were but he didn't know about any of those things. For him, 'home' was being forced back into his own little slice of Hell of Earth.
"I don't want to go back there," the young raven haired boy whispered to his friends as he stared out the window. His voice was barely above a whisper but he'd said it so many times in this very cabin of this same train where the Trio had met so many years ago that his companions expected it rather than actually heard it.
"It'll be alright Harry, you'll be back at Hogwarts in no time," his eyes were filled with so much sorrow and pain but his female friend; a bushy haired, buck-toothed, pale faced girl pet him sympathetically on the knee. She tried to assure the boy but a good friend would have noticed the tiny flinch her touch caused or the pang of depression in the boy's eyes.
"Yea mate, no worries," his male friend; a tall, lanky, dirt covered ginger with freckled chirped, sending his girlfriend, the busy haired girl a half smile.
"Yea...no worries," Harry replied even though he knew that he had every reason to be depressed and worried.
Such lies. Every time he told them things like this, he knew he was lying through his teeth and what hurt the most is that as he began to not only grow older but finally mature, he realized more and more that; they didn't care.
What was more surprising about them not caring was the fact that he didn't either. He was, little by little, growing more cold and more distant from them with each passing day.
They would get off the train together as the magnificent Golden Trio but Ron and Hermione would get to go on their marry way and leave Harry behind. They got to go to the Burrow -Ron's home- for the summer and live in a world beyond constant.
Harry didn't know much about what a life like that was like. He would be heading back to Privet Drive with his malicious uncle to live in pain and torture. They didn't understand, they didn't even care, but they were all that he had and he wanted to cling to them desperately. He didn't know any other way to survive than to just endure through the summer and then cling to Ron and Hermione for security and sanity throughout the school year.
When they stepped off the train they hurried and said their goodbyes, leaving Harry to collect his things and hurry as quickly as he could without drawing attention to himself over to his uncle. They seemed almost relieved to get away from him and it sent a pang through his heart. He grit his teeth and decided to try his best to toughen his skin towards them and turned away, promptly walking over to his uncle.
Vernon Dursley was a big whale of a man. Once upon a time he loomed over Harry Potter being twice his size in every way; height and weight but as the years had gone by Harry was at least taller than his uncle, but he was scrawny, whereas his uncle was a hulking behemoth of fat and surly, untold strength.
"Hurry up and come on, you filthy little freak," were the first words that his uncle grumbled to him when he was within range of him. Hermione and Ron hadn't even bothered to wave goodbye to him as his uncle dragged him off roughly by the arm, they had long since been gone. His uncle's nails were digging into his flesh through his thin shirt making him wince, he quickened his steps in hopes that his uncle would stop hurting him if he hurried; he didn't. Instead he dug his nails deeper into Harry's skin and it wasn't long before he felt small droplets of blood catching onto his shirt and making it mat to his skin.
The ride back "home" to Privet Drive was tense and scary. Harry knew what would happen the second that they were inside the house. When they pulled into the garage instead of the driveway he felt his heart hammering inside of his chest and his breathing quickening.
"Get inside," Vernon sneered and Harry practically flew out of the car somehow managing to tumble into the house with all his luggage without making a sound. The door was slammed shut behind him and he felt his heart sank.
"Petunia...left me," was the growl that met his ear.
"She left me because she was tired of all our arguments about getting rid of you. I should have drowned you the minute that you showed up on our doorstep but I didn't. We took you in out of the kindness of our hearts and now here we are; almost seventeen years later and my wife leaves me, taking my son with her, because of you!" Harry looked around, panicked and noticed that all the drapes were drawn; all the lights were off and on top of all that Vernon's car was not in the driveway as always; a signal that he was home.
Foolishly, he tried to run.
"Oh no you don't!" a blunt object hit Harry so hard in the head that it almost made him see stars. He fell to the floor and before he knew what happened Vernon was on top of him. His large, meaty, purple claws coming down and whaling on him, his face, his sides, and his back; his body turned this way and that way to the point that it was all a mangled dance of abuse. He felt his bones break, felt his glasses shatter, felt warm blood oozing over his skin. He wasn't sure how long the blows continued, he couldn't see, could barely breathe and he certainly couldn't move. All he knew was that he was in pain.
"I should have killed you!" Vernon snarled as he landed a particularly deafening blow to Harry's stomach. He could feel the vomit and bile lurching up through his body and felt it spew upwards from his position on his back. He coughed violently, choking on his own vomit and though it made his body scream in protest he rolled over and coughed all that had collected at the back of his throat back onto the floor before falling back once more. Feeling the warm, acidic mess splash back on his face, into his eyes, his nose and his mouth was as equally humiliating as it was disgusting. He could feel small chunks of food and stomach acid sliding down over his face. He felt so dirty and pathetic but he had no idea that his uncle's torture was far, far from over.
"She left because you're just like her freaky little sister," Vernon whispered in his ear quietly before leaving the room for a moment.
Harry looked around wildly for Vernon. He didn't know where the massive man was and that sent fear coursing through his veins. He whimpered softly, holding his stomach as he tried to slither across the floor and at least make it to the cupboard under the stairs- his old home for most of his life- but it was then that he felt a firm, vice grip hold on his hair. He winced, his neck being pulled back much further than he thought it could stretch, he looked up to see Vernon's face above him once more.
"Please, stop!" Harry croaked, barely able to speak.
"No," was the simple reply that he got before he was thrown into the floor.
"You're nothing but a freak, Harry. Freaks don't get mercy from God unless God decides so, is that understood?" he gave him a cruel, dark smile and it was then that he noticed that there was a knife from the kitchen in his uncle's hands.
"I said is that understood, Harry!" his uncle's face contorted into something awful and he grabbed his nephew's arm and ran the blade in a half inch slice down his arm. Harry squirmed and cried out, trying to scoot away despite the pain it caused, feeling the blood run down his arm. He whimpered, struggling to see past the blood, bile and tears in his eyes, his legs beginning to shake violently. He shook his head fiercely, trying to scoot away as he felt warm liquid running down his legs, the front of his pants becoming soaked with his own soil.
"Oh you filthy little bilge rat!" the pee almost hit Vernon's shoes when he recognized it and he side stepped it, cocking his hand back and bringing the full force of it down onto Harry's face. He cried out in pain, feeling left over glass from his lenses pierce his cheek, right below his eye, making it difficult for him to see.
"I'm going to show you what you're really worth," Vernon growled in his ear.
Harry could hear the clink of his Uncle's belt and his eyes widened in horror he tried to scramble away but his body screamed out in protest, everything hurt and he couldn't bear to move. He felt his pants being tugged off and he couldn't stop the mortified scream that escaped him when he felt his Uncle pin him down and thrust into his virgin body. He let out a choked sob and thrashed wildly against the pain; that earned him a sharp slap to the face but still he fought until he felt his body slowly loosing strength. It hurt so much, so much pain, why, why was no one helping him? Why did Dumbledore let him come back to this year after year after year! He whimpered, his eyes becoming heavy he'd lost so much blood, even more of it was dripping from his anus now as his Uncle pushed through his tightness and ripped the skin, his body had been beaten past the point of exhaustion.
He couldn't do it anymore. He let go, letting the darkness claim him into its welcoming, awaiting arms and while he was out Vernon Dursley raped him four times and tossed him into his room. Hours of beating, rape, verbal abuse and manual labor were going to become a constant in his life and each day that it happened Harry Potter was filled with more rage, sorrow and profound thought.
He'd given up all hope on Dumbledore; a man he'd once thought of as family, a grandfather of sorts and the greatest wizard alive. He knew that this was no longer true, that it may have never been true. He was being used like a little puppet, he didn't know what his old mentor's hidden agenda was but he decided that come September 1st he wouldn't be a part of it; he would be a pawn no more.
"It is time I put this title of the 'Boy Who Lived' nonsense to good use. I will survive this," Harry muttered to himself as he lay broken on his cot-like bed, consciousness had come back to him for but a short moment, he wished it hadn't because his body immediately began convulsing in pain but that small bit of consciousness was the only affirmation that he needed to remember that he was still alive and that he needed to remain that way.
The first two weeks of summer had been Hell on Earth. Aunt Petunia and Dudley had come back home but it was obvious that her and Vernon's relationship was strained; she spent a lot of time out of sight or out of the house all together. She would barge into Harry's room each morning, grabbing onto his arms and dragging him out of bed, deciding since the first day she'd gotten back to ignore whatever it was that Vernon was doing to her nephew and toss him on the kitchen floor. Once there she would hand him a large list of chores that he was supposed to have done by her standards by the time she returned. Wash the dishes, clean the floors by hand, wipe down the walls, clean the fridge, polish the table, chairs and counters, clean the windows, vacuum and shampoo the living room floor, dust the furniture; the list went on and on through every room of the house in very specific detail and since it was the same exact list every day Harry had it locked into his memory bank. His body was becoming a power house of endurance because Aunt Petunia made sure to push him past his limits every day. He had to work past the pain or else she would beat him with the iron spike from the fireplace. Oh how he remembered that first day she'd returned.
He had fallen out of his bed while trying to crawl out and make it to the bathroom. The fall had injured him pretty badly but still the need to pee was overwhelming his bladder and he could feel it all welling up. That's when Petunia waked in to see him 'lazing about' when he should have been downstairs starting on his chores an hour ago. She grimaced at the smell of sex, blood and urine, she yanked him up by his arm and tossed him down the stairs watching him clunk and clatter all the way down with pained yelps and cries. She walked calmly down the stairs and kicked him into the living room, going over to the fireplace and picking up the iron spike. She weighed it in her hand for a moment before she began beating Harry with it. He learned then and there that to avoid more pain he had to push through the existing pain.
His aunt and Uncle had gone completely mental, filled with animosity towards him like he'd never seen before. It seemed like despite their separation they were doing everything in their combined power to literally kill him. He didn't know why but he was damn determined to figure out why, he would stop at nothing; he had to know. The only plus sides to all of it were that Harry was pretty much on his own; he got to eat on occasion to keep as much of his strength up as he possibly could.
Vernon spent his mornings out at work; somehow still managing to pull of being a functioning member of society despite the fact that he'd gone completely mental on the home front. When he wasn't at work most of his time was spent out drinking and Dudley took care of his dad when he was too drunk to do it himself. If he wasn't at work or drunk of his ass then he was in Harry's room, beating him and torturing him like a cat batting a roach between its paws before killing it, then raping him. Dudley would watch sometimes, unsure of whether to laugh or feel sorry for Harry and to help his father out of the room when he was finally done and too drunk to carry on by himself. To escape it all Dudley spent almost every night sneaking out of the house to be with his boyfriend.
"Home" was dysfunctional and even though Vernon had his family back the rape, the abuse and the chores didn't stop. He was never bothered by Aunt Petunia except for in the mornings when she gave him his list of chores, he'd managed to fix up Dudley's old clunky computer for at least some amusement, and he never really had to worry about Vernon until night time, unfortunately for Harry, he had to deal with his uncle just about every night.
It was a sad, pitiful existence, but he had to survive. And surviving meant changing. It pained him to admit it but despite all that he had been through throughout his life; he was weak. Just thinking about it brought a frown to his bruised and puffy face but since his return to Privet Drive he had become increasingly hard on himself and facing facts now was a must.
"I have to figure out what the hell is going on," he whispered to himself, struggling to breathe properly despite his broken ribs.
"Sticky situation...there has to be a way out of this hellhole. Think Harry, Think," mumbling to himself about things had become quite a common thing for Harry as of late. He would lie in his bed, hands over his face, racking his brain and training to think outside of the box. He needed to become more of an interactive thinker, a critical thinker, someone who could think under pressure, pain and not be thrown off guard or stumped so quickly. He sprang up from the bed wincing and holding his ribs as pain shot through the front of his body. He covered his mouth and let out a forceful cough, his head swarming, he shook it lightly as if doing so would make it feel any better.
"The letter..."the light bulb went off in his head and he'd be damned if he didn't follow his gut. He got out of his room as quickly as he could; staggering here and there for it was still difficult for him to move about. He was a man on a mission, a mission to get out of the Dursley's no matter how much he hurt himself in the process, as long as he managed not to get himself killed; he was in pretty good shape. He shuffled over to the closet and stuffed all his belongings into his school trunk and made sure to move it more closely to the door. He paused, standing by the door, still as a stone; his chest barely rising, air barely getting into his lungs, his eyes bulging out of their sockets ever so slightly. The house was still silent; he nodded to himself in confirmation, opened the door as quietly as humanly possible and sneaked out of the room. He tip-toed over to Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's room and slipped inside, closing and locking the door behind him.
He had never been inside of his Aunt and Uncle's room and though he was pressed for time he couldn't help but look around for a brief moment and inspect it. The walls were the same color as they were in every other room in the house; white, plain, uneventful. They had a brass bed frame for their king size bed that was of course perfectly polished to an Aunt Petunia grade of perfection. The sheets were plain as well; white with tiny rose bundles printed all over it, matching white pillow cases were on the bed, a lamp on each bedside table. It was all quite eerie to Harry but he ignored it and went over to the closet. He had no clue if what he was looking for would even be in here but the second that he thought of it he couldn't think of any odder place to find it than this. He slid the door open and crouched down, looking for a box that would be shoved away in the back of the closet.
"Here you are," he whispered pulling it close to him. The box was plain, black, worn. There was no label, but it was apparent that it was a shoe box, an old shoe box to boot. With shaky hands, he popped the lid off, coughing as a bit of dust flew into his mouth. Oh yes, it had to be here, this box hadn't been touched in years, because this box held a secret. Inside was a pair of plain, black, flat, women's dress shoes that hadn't been touched in years. There was a thin layer of dust on them now when they had once been church shoes – Aunt Petunia's church shoes to be exact- but now they serves as a weight, as a cover-up. With mild satisfaction Harry pulled them out of the box and looked down at the parchment beneath it. His heart slowly began to beat harder in his chest, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip in quiet anticipation, he reach down and grabbed it, stuffing the shoes in the box and putting it back exactly where he'd found it. He stuffed the envelope into his pocket and crawled over to the door, pausing, listening. The house was quiet, he unlocked the door and scampered back in his own room, though the house was quiet he had an unsettled feeling in his stomach.
Perhaps someone was on their way home?
Perhaps he was anxious, paranoid, and afraid?
He took a slow steady breath and looked down at the front of the envelope, recognizing Albus Dumbledore's handwriting the second that he saw;
To the sister of Lily Potter:
Mrs. Petunia Dursley
#4 Privet Drive
Little Whining, Surrey
This letter was crucial. It was the letter from so long ago, the night that Dumbledore had Hagrid place Harry down on the Dursley's doorstep and condemned him to Hell on Earth. He flipped it over and sure enough Dumbledore's broken seal was on the back, he ran his fingers over it gently before taking out the letter and began to read.
To Petunia Dursley,
I am pleased to inform you that the sister you have come to hate so violently is dead. She was killed at the hands of Lord Voldemort at her and her husband's home in Godric's Hollow. I'm sure this information brings a smile to your face but there is more that I must inform you of.
Your sister died protecting her son, your nephew Harry because she sacrificed herself the little brat has become a formidable force. Because of your sister's strong magical protection, when Voldemort turned his wand onto the boy, it reflected back and killed him instead, leaving the boy with nothing more than a scar on his forehead. Harry Potter will go down in history as The Boy who Lived, he will be the most powerful wizard in history if his magic is allowed to flourish. So long as this boy lives with you and is able to call your house his home he will be protected up until his seventeenth birthday from Voldemort's forces, your job in this time is to take this boy into your home, raise him and stifle his magic until he is nothing more than a normal human being. I want to mold him into the perfect Wizard myself and I most completely start by scratch if I am able to ensure that he is capable of doing my biding. Do this for me and I can assure you that your beloved husband will be none the wiser about the magic that is already beginning to arise in your son.
Rage boiled in Harry's heart as he crumpled the letter up and tossed it -accidentally- at Hedwig's cage. She let out a loud shriek both because of the sudden incoming with the projectile and because of her master's sudden spike in emotion. Tears poured down a scarred, pale face as shaky hands grabbed onto fistfuls of raven hair. How could he have been so stupid all these years?
Vernon kicked in the door to the room on wobbly legs. He reeked of liquor, sweat and urine and he looked like a spoiled sausage the way that his face was slowly turning purple. His eyes drifted over towards Harry but it took a while for his eyes to actually register the teen. When he did, the smile that crept across his face was something cruel and malevolent. He started undoing his belt with clumsy fingers, walking menacingly towards Harry, his eyes darkening, his entire mood changed in the blink of an eye.
"I won't let you hurt me anymore!" Harry shouted, trying to make a dash for the door, only to get clothes-lined. He grunted as he hit the floor. It felt like Vernon had tried to dislodge his Adam's apple it hurt to swallow and his back colliding with the hard floor jarred his ribs. He let out a moan of pain but tried to get up as quickly as he possibly could.
"Stay where you are you filthy whore," Vernon growled as he yanked down his pants while also trying to get Harry's off.
"No!" this time Harry wasn't blind sighted and weak, he was going to fight as best as he could, he was fueled by anger and determination, he would break free!
Hedwig was going insane inside her cage. Harry being so full of emotions was sending her into a tizzy. As she watched him fight with Vernon, tumbling around on the floor, she simply shrieked and squawked her little heart out. She wanted Harry to win, to be safe, yet all she could do was watch.
"That ruddy bird!" Vernon struggled to get his fat carcass off the hard wooden floor and stumbled over to the cage. He quickly opened it and before the gorgeous snow owl could react two tight, meaty claws were wrapped around her, cutting off her air supply. She made a pained noise, doing her best to attack and claw at him, but it was no use. She could feel her life slowly slipping away as more and more air was able to get into her system.
"Hedwig!" Harry reached out for her from his position on the floor. His ribs hurt so badly but he refused to give up. He made it to his feet, reaching forward to try and stop Vernon, but it was too late. Hedwig was gone and the ruthless bastard that Vernon was he did nothing but toss her limp body into the closet door. There was a sickening crunch and then nothing but silence.
"You monster!" Harry lunged at his uncle and the fight was on. He got knocked around every inch of the room, all the while landing his hardest blows onto any expanse of flesh he could come into contact with, he couldn't see, his eyes puffy and swollen but this was a fight that he would not easily lose.
Something akin to a growl left Harry's lips as he felt his rage topple over at an alarming rate. He grit his teeth and as a fierce, threatening wind whipped around his body his wounds that he'd acquired over the first two weeks of summer healed themselves and the hard, laborious work that he'd endured all his life filled out his body and muscles until he was a strapping, healthy looking young man. His eyes flashed darkly as raw power surged through the room making the windows quake in fear before finally bursting into pieces; glass flying into the air and circling around the current of wind, slashing around Vernon's body.
"I am no one's whore," Harry hissed menacingly punching Vernon square in his stomach watching the man double over in pain.
"I am no freak," he seethed, back handing the drunken man with the full force of his hand and he continued to step forward.
"I am not weak!" Harry held Vernon's face between his hands and forcefully brought his knee up to collide with his uncle's face.
"I am not weak and this...is not...my home!" the walls began to shake and Harry's magic, sensing a threat hurriedly cast a strong protective charm around the house as the blood magic that had been placed upon the house was violently ripped to shreds. Harry could feel it all around him; crumbling, falling, getting destroyed piece by piece by his own uncontrollable magic. He relished in the feeling. He felt strong, powerful, in control and he would be lying through his teeth if he said that he didn't enjoy it.
He turned his attention to Vernon again and with no problem at all, despite his uncle's girth picked him up by the throat and lifted him so that they were face to face.
"I despise you. Every inch of your fat, fleshy skin, from your sausage face to your meaty claws to your black, putrid, crumpled excuse of a heart I heart you," he seethed quietly, glaring daggers at the man that had abused him for so long.
"I hope ever night that you sleep, that you think of me, of all the things you've done, of all the ways you've abused me and I hope you remember who the freak really is in this family," the moment that he said the word freak a squeal of a scream ripped through Vernon's body and his flailing caused Harry to let him drop to the floor.
A vindictive, malicious smile on his face Harry knelt down and ripped open Vernon's shirt to reveal his pale, round belly where the letters f-r-e-a-k were being carved into his body by some invisible force. Blood pooled onto the floor and Harry stood up straight, staring down at the mess of a man.
"You're a rapist, Vernon," the makings of an 'R' began to appear on Vernon's thigh, right next to his groin. Harry could tell as the blood pattern began to soak into his trousers.
"You're cruel," the letter 'C' began to form on his forehead and Vernon's screams of pain were so loud that Harry had to shout over him just to be heard.
"You're a monster," and with that, as the word 'monster' began to form repeatedly on Vernon's back in deep, jagged lettering Harry had only one thing left to say.
"You're a freak, Vernon," smoke curled from the man's body and the scent of burning flesh filled the room as -again by an imaginary force- the word 'freak' branded permanently on the flesh of his stomach, right on top of the bloody wound.
"All your wounds will heal but the brand and the one on your thigh so that you never forget what you are," there was a dark, coldness to Harry's words as he walked out of the room leaving his drunk uncle in a weeping, bloody pile on the floor.
"Petunia!" Harry thundered when he heard the keys in the door alerting him to his aunt's return. He stormed down the stairs and quickly snatched her up by her throat before she could even comprehend what was going on.
"So your little Dudders is magic," he whispered softly into her ear. The tone of his voice sent a hard shiver down her spine and she felt fear pulsate through her entire body. It made Harry shiver himself as he smelled the fear roll off of her frail body in waves.
"How do you know about that!" she was barely able to choke it out but he could sense the desperation in her voice.
"I went hunting for a little letter," he mused.
"Oh god..." she whispered making Harry snort.
"God can't help you now," he told her as he marched over to the cupboard under the stairs which had once been his bedroom. It was dank and dusty, filled with much more spiders now than when he was occupying the space. He shoved her inside and glared down at her.
"Let's see how you like it," he slammed the door shut and locked it both with the lock and with his magic.
"I'll leave you with enough provisions to keep you alive," he waved his hangs and some bottles of water appeared.
"You can come out when I say so," he patted the door before walking off and heading back upstairs to his room were his uncle was still on the floor, sobbing his fat little heart out.
"Oh shut it, will you?" Harry grumbled offhandedly. He waved his hands and though his uncle continued to shout and cry, no noise could be heard throughout the room.
A/N: Well, here's the rewind of the first chapter. I'm really proud about how this came out, especially with the length because I know that the original first chapter was really, really short.