Sick at Hogwarts

Author's Note: This takes place sixth year. Read, enjoy, review.

Warning: Child abuse, language, and yaoi, rape, self-harm.

Disclaimer: In own nothing!

Chapter One: Numb Wishes

Harry's Pov

Thunder rumbled above me, ringing in my ears as I crouched down on the ground, in the muddy grass ripping out weeds from my Aunt Petunia's perfect garden. It was around ten P.M and here I was in the pouring rain, on the wet muddy ground, probably catching a cold all because some stupid judges were coming to look at the garden in some stupid garden contest.

I scowled at the weeds I was ripping out, my head already starting to hurt from a headache. After another hour, I was thoroughly drenched in ice cold water, blown aside by harsh wind, and startled millions of times by the thunder overhead but I had finally finished weeding the garden.

I got up, my back cracking and I winced in pain and slowly made my way to the back porch hoping my aunt would let me in. I knocked and she opened the door, leaving the screen closed.

"What?" She snapped irritable, glaring at me.

"I'm d-d-done, can I come inside?" I asked shivering in the cold temperature.

"Of course not you moron, your muddy and wet! Sleep outside until you learn not be so messy you little freak!" She shouted at me and slammed the door closed in my face.

I sighed, already knowing this was how the conversation was going to turn it. Still the anger churned in my stomach like molten lava. I felt the wind swirl around me and I couldn't tell if that was my magic becoming unstable with my anger or just the storm around me. It didn't matter I was still cold from the inside and burning with rage from the inside.

I trudged over to the backyard and sat down under the largest tree, where the raindrops hardly fell, because of the thick cover of leaves and branches above me.

It wasn't long before I started coughing and I rolled my body from side to side under the tree, restless. My lungs were burning inside my chest and it seemed I coughed, hacking, body shaking coughs every second. I felt horrible.

It wasn't long before tears welled up in my frustrated eyes and streamed down my face. I stared up into the heavy oak branches and wished my godfather was still alive so he could save me from this hell I lived in. If he were alive he'd be able to take care of me.

If only, if only I hadn't killed him. Tears dripped from my eyes faster. Everyone kept telling me it wasn't my fault but deep inside I knew. Sirius would be alive today if I hadn't gone to the Department of Mysteries looking for him.

I deserved all of this, it was punishment for killing my godfather.

Depressing thoughts overtook my mind and as I let the tears pour from my eyes and mix with the rain. I felt my control slipping away on my emotions. Suddenly I couldn't breathe and my body was shaking uncontrollably. My head burned and I wished it would all just go away. My emotions, the pain, my thoughts, my life.

I lay my head on the wet ground and let sleep overtake my overly tired body. Sure enough that night I dreamed of Sirius again, his death flashing before my eyes torturing slow. It was the same dream every night, but tonight something new added. Just before he fell before the veil he looked directly at me and asked me why I killed him. Hate and betrayal burned in his eyes and I knew that image would haunt my mind forever.

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I woke to the sounds of birds chirping and I lifted my head off the ground, momentarily puzzled as to why I was outside then I remembered last night. My head ached, my body was sore, and I could barely breathe with out coughing.

I got up shakily and headed to the back porch to see a pile of old, rags out there to dry myself off with. I dried myself off, wondering why Aunt Petunia couldn't have just let me dry off last night and come in.

The rest of the day passed smoothly as I did my chores and hid in my room while the judges judged the garden. It was at the end of the day when my day finally turned worse.

I was in my room, staring out the window, dreaming of Hogwarts like I usually do during summer when my uncle burst into the room, his face purple and red with rage.
"BOY! HOW DARE YOU! MY PETUNIA LOST THE GARDEN CONTEST BECAUSE OF YOU! SHE ONLY CAME IN SECOND PLACE!" My uncle roared grabbing me by my hair and throwing me to the ground.

I winced in pain, as the fall shook my sore and sick body. I didn't say anything and I didn't argue. It only made things worse when I argued with him. I knew it wasn't my fault that the garden didn't win but my uncle's world would fall apart if he didn't find someone to blame.

My uncle kicked me hard in the side and I felt the air rush out of me. The ominous crack as a rib broke rang through the air and fire shot up my chest and I had to struggle not to cry out in pain.

I watched with terrified eyes as he unbuckled his belt and raised it high. It came cracking down, the leather slicing into my side, the metal buck tearing open my flesh, tasting my blood, the crack of the belt filled my room and with each cut the pain in my body intensified to the point where I was wishing that he would finally end it all. But no, of course not. My Uncle wasn't that merciful1, he wouldn't kill me yet, not even if I begged.

The torture didn't stop there, he threw down his belt and with a twisted smile he retrieved a razor sharp pocket knife from his pocket. This was probably his favorite part of the torture. He grabbed my arm, twisting it painfully to reveal my wrists. White, pink, and red scars scattered over my pale wrists. Most of them from him, but some now and again were mine.

He took the knife and dragged it against my skin, creating a long, bleeding cut. He made short ones all up my wrists and finished by carving freak into my wrists with the tip of the knife. He always finished by carving freak in my arm. Guess how many scars said freak on my arm?

But when he dropped my wrist he still wasn't done. This was the part I feared the most, the part that made me wake up in the middle of the night screaming. The part I could tell no one about. The part I was to ashamed to admit to myself that it ever happened.

My uncle unzipped his pants and pulled them down along with his boxers and he ripped down my own jeans and boxers. He grabbed me by my hair and lifted me so I was sitting on my knees in front of him. He shoved my face to his dick with a warning look. Hesitantly as always my mouth latched onto his dick and he started to move my head back and forth so I was sucking on his erection.

Tears burned my eyes and I struggled to keep them in but they ended up spilling down my face like always. I hated being this weak in front of my uncle. I hated when he made me scream in pain and when he made me break down into sobs.

His hands trailed down my body, touching me. His rough fingers leaving bruises and the occasional scratch. I hated him, I hated this. I hated being touched!

He moaned above me and suddenly tossed me onto my bed, on my stomach and climbed on top of me and without warning thrust his erection into me. I screamed out in unexpected pain at the intrusion and like a dog in heat he kept thrusting quickly and harshly.

I sobbed into the white sheets as my uncle raped me, my body shaking with sobs and pain as he entered me again and again.

His hands rubbed down my body roughly and after a long time he was finally done. He left my room with me on my bed, brokenly sobbing, bleeding, and coughing each second in between.

I pulled on my clothes after a long time and sat up, looking around. Blood stained my floor but that wasn't unusual.

On the floor was my Uncle's pocket knife. I grabbed it quickly and opened the blade. I sliced it quickly down my wrist felling instant relief. The emotions inside my battered body drifted away and I was left with only the physical pain to deal with. But it was all bearable I had learned to live with physical pain for years, but the emotional pain, that was just to much to deal with.

I cut deeper and faster and finally dropped the bloody knife to the floor, feeling dreamy. I watched my blood roll down my arm, feeling numb. I was focusing on the pain in my arms and it distracted me from the pain in my chest and back from the belt and the ache of my sick body.

I stretched out on my bed, loving the numb feeling that coursed through my body. I let sleep take me again, once again I dreamed of Sirius.

But when I woke up screaming in the middle of the night, I still had the knife and the numb feeling stayed with me. Maybe I would be okay, or hopefully I might die in the night and never wake up again. If only wishes really could come true.

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