Flight From Death



R&R, Plz, and any ideas that might help me work with this would be brilliant!


Harry Potter stared up at his tormentor with dull green eyes, not even bothering to hope that this would be the end. He knew better, after seventeen years. There would be no mercy for him, no death, and no peace. Just a never-ending cycle of pain, loneliness, sorrow, and fear. Once, there had been hatred, but that had been bled away along with his hope, happiness, and pride. Now he was merely a shell, tortured and beaten into perfect subservience, and it didn't matter if he lived or died, because he was a freak, unlovable and a burden on everyone and everything. His uncle had told him so, every hour of every day, since he had been returned to the Dursley's care with a band that locked away his magic until the only thing he could do with it was heal himself and keep himself alive against his will.

He had killed Voldemort in the Ministry, when he had been possessed. Dumbledore said he had to make arrangements so that the Dark Lord could never return, but just in case; it was safer for Harry to remain at his aunt and uncles. He was the cruelest tormentor of all, in the eighteen-year-olds belief. He had trusted the man, looked up to him, and he had been betrayed in every sense of the word. Dumbledore had seen him only as a means to an end, a weapon against the Dark. Even now, he was telling all those who asked that Harry was off in a secret training program for in case Voldemort returned, while in reality he was being savagely beaten and starved and occasionally raped by his uncle and cousin, though his aunt never participated, and even helped clean him up every once in a while, and sometimes snuck him food. He didn't blame her for anything, though at first he had. Now he couldn't help but be relieved that she remained aloof and away from him.

After all, he had reasoned after the first six months of torture, who had his uncle beat on when he was away at Hogwarts? Who would he have been able to beat, rape, and spit vile on when Harry wasn't there and Dudley was his pride and joy? His Aunt Petunia always looked tired and gaunt after every school year, and he regretted not thinking of it sooner, and told her, when he could still talk in a way that wasn't mindless subservience, that he was sorry. He'd stopped crying after the first month. She didn't cry at all, and her hands were gentle.

Now he lay silently on his bed, body aching where once it had screamed, staring silently up at Vernon from the corner of his eye, who looked down at him with a cruel leer as he finished zipping his pants back up. He spat on the limp boy, and Harry didn't blink when it spattered across the weeping and infected wounds on his back. Vernon sneered at him again and attempted to saunter out, which just meant he waddled harder. The man had stopped being his uncle after the first rape, about three weeks after Dumbledore had handed his 'precious Savior' over. Silently, the eighteen-year-old turned his head and stared out his barred window, already feeling his magic bubble up to tentatively heal him.

"It's okay," he murmured to his magic, voice soft and demure, unable to change even if he wanted it to. "I love you, and I'm sorry you have to work so hard for me." His magic gave a sad pulse and wrapped around him in a gentle cocoon, and took the pain from his wounds, as his body now resisted magical healing, and warmed his always-cold body. Harry felt his lips curl in a near-nonexistent smile, and he didn't twitch when, four hours later, the door opened and his magic slipped reluctantly back to its place. He heard a male gasp, choked off, and his Aunt's familiar perfume wafted past his nose as he closed his eyes and let her gently touch him, sighing softly.

"Hello again, Aunt Petunia," he murmured softly. "How was your day?" He opened his eyes and turned his head to look up at her, small smile still in place. She managed a shaky smile back.

"I got help for you, Harry," she whispered, pushing his bangs gently away from his flawless forehead. Harry stared up at her and frowned slightly, worry wiggling into his eyes even as his voice didn't change.

"You will get in trouble, Aunt," he whispered softly; she stroked his bruised cheek and smiled again, and Harry was startled to see a tear slip down her cheek.

"You worry too much, Harry dear," she said softly. "I am leaving after you, without Dudley or Vernon, and I will be safe, no matter how they search. I called upon an old friend of your mothers, and he came to help." Harry blinked and carefully turned his head to rest on the pillow, staring in silence at the deathly pale man who stared at him with barely concealed horror. Slowly, he smiled, and gave a tired chuckle.

"Good evening, Professor," he said quietly. "I suppose this is a far cry from what you expected of Potter's son, hmm?" Snape stared at him, black eyes categorizing every wound, every thick scar, and every bruise. Harry shifted so that the magic-dampener was exposed on his wrist, a thin metal bracelet. "Dear Dumbledore doesn't want his precious weapon to defend himself from the nasty Muggles, since he might grow unruly and do something silly like expose him for a man who's just as manipulative and cruel as the Dark Lord." He chuckled softly. "At least Tom was honest about his cruelty." He sighed and rested his head on the pillow, eyes closing. "I am tired, Aunt, so tired," he whispered; Petunia gently pet his blood-matted hair.

"I know, Harry dear," she whispered softly. "But it'll be over soon, alright?" Harry nodded, but didn't open his eyes again.

"Is he going to kill me?" he asked softly, opening his eyes to look up at his Aunt, and sighed when she shook her head no. "I didn't think so," he murmured sadly; Snape stepped forward and carefully pulled out his wand, hesitantly reaching out and taking Harry's wrist. At the beginning, Harry had flinched at every possibility of touch, but Vernon had beat it out of him quick enough, and he never moved away from any touch now, not even painful ones. Vernon had tested his tolerance by forcing his hand onto a lit burner and making him keep it there for several hours, the smell of burning flesh making his empty stomach cramp. That was when his magic had been able to heal him, thankfully, and he only had a light scar from it.

He watched silently, eyes half-lidded, as Snape cast silent spells on the magic-dampener, frowning. After a few minutes, in which he made the bracelet glow several different colors, he sighed. He looked grave as he gently set Harry's wrist down on the bed.

"I can get it off," he said quietly, "but his magic may do something incredibly drastic." Harry nodded and reached for his magic, to see what it would do.

"My magic says she'll take me somewhere safe," he told them quietly, eyes gentle and calm. "She says she'll take me somewhere safe and far away from here, where I won't need to worry about Dumbledore or Vernon, or anything else that wants to hurt me. She says she'll even turn me into my animagus form so that no one will recognize me." Snape and Petunia stared at him in surprise.

"You can hear your magic?" Snape asked softly; Harry blinked slowly and smiled.

"I love her," he said simply. "She's been with me no matter what, and even Dumbledore's bracelet can only muffle her." Snape slowly nodded, then took a deep breath.

"Petunia," he said quietly, "you might wish to leave the room." Petunia hesitated, then nodded, silently slipping from the room. Snape placed his wand against the bracelet, and hesitated.

"Professor?" Harry said suddenly, looking up into black eyes. He smiled. "Take care of my aunt for me?" he whispered; Snape nodded silently, and Harry smiled and closed his eyes, tired.

"Goodbye…Harry," the dour man murmured, before he poured his magic into the bracelet and murmured several words in Latin. The bracelet gave an eerie, silent scream and shattered; Harry gasped softly eyes shooting open, exposing glowing, totally silver eyes with black, slit pupils. Arching his back, mouth open in a silent scream or laugh, he clenched his muscles and disappeared in a bright pulse of pure gold light. Snape could have sworn that he'd felt something wrap around him in a hug, and heard the words 'thank-you Severus' whispered in his ear.

"Lilly," he whispered, shocked, before he turned and moved towards the door. Opening it, he took Petunia's hand and led her silently down the stairs. He put her coat on her, and escorted her out past the wards. Smiling at him, tears sliding down her cheeks, the gaunt woman kissed his cheek, and he wrapped her in his arms before he Disapperated them away.

An hour later, police arrived, answering to an anonymous phone call about the torture and rape of a teenager at Number Four Private Drive. What they found was a small room with bars on the small window and seven heavy padlocks on the outside. Inside, the bed, floor, walls, and ceiling were spattered with blood and body fluids, most several years old, but quite a bit of it was only a few hours old. They found semen samples from Vernon and Dudley Dursley alike, and none of the blood was theirs, but all belonged to an unknown male. Both male Dursley's were arrested and sent to prison for twenty-to-life sentences. Neither got parole, and neither had to wait very long before they were soon feeling everything they'd done to the young man they had tormented.

In the Wizarding World, Dumbledore was arrested when Petunia Evans, accompanied by Severus Snape, gave a report to the Aurors. He was given trial under Truth Serum that the Potions Master had made just for this occasion, with Pensieve Memories from Petunia and Dumbledore himself as evidence. He was arrested and sentenced to the Kiss, which was preformed right there, in the middle of the courtroom, so that no escape could be made. The Wizarding World was in shock, and many grieved for their supposedly dead Savior, who had sacrificed so much for them, and had been paid in pain and humiliation of a kind that made even the remaining Death Eaters cringe.

So ended the reign of Albus Dumbledore, the Great Manipulator, the supposed Lord of the Light. So ended the reign or Vernon Dursley, Dark Lord of his own home. So ended the life of Harry Potter, wizard, Boy-Who-Lived, Savior, Chosen One, and Defeater-Of-Voldemort…

And so begins the next adventure…