AN: I begin this story with a 1st person POV, but it will change into 3rd person, because I feel like knowing the inside thoughts of a character constantly ruins any self creating ideas. I just want to set up what the mind of this character's is while dealing with a scarring moment. He isn't going to be a wrecked mess of nothingness. He will be strong and over come this, but it doesn't mean that in that moment he is not weak. He was, and is. He must overcome it to become stronger.

I do not own anything Harry Potter related.

The warm blood trickled down my face, an unholy reminder of the truth staring me in the face. It didn't upset me though. I didn't care. They were mean. They hurt me. I knew though, I knew that this changed everything. Everyone would know, everyone would start to care, act like this mattered. That this ugly fact would forever mark me as someone else, something worse than the lightning bolt scar on my face.

Both parents had pleaded for their son. Both had begged unashamed for that monster to spare their son. Just like my parents. My parents. My parents who loved me. His parents loved him. NO. I shake my head ferociously causing the world to spin within a red tinted blur. They hurt me. They were mean. They didn't love me. They did love him. I feel defeated. I feel unloved. It isn't fair. It just isn't fair.

His old round face sprinkled with stubble is twisted in fear. His eyes empty. They do not hate. They do not love. They stare vacantly at the pile of ashes that were once his son. The woman he married lying next to him. Her too small face is drowned in tears and blood. I bitterly hope it is her son's blood.

Why am I thinking like this?

When did I become so hateful?

Did I hate them?

Yes. I did. I hate them as much as they hate me. I had wished every night for them to get what they deserve and now they have. They deserve this. To be lying on the ground broken in a pool of their own blood. To unknowingly have been erased from this world. Who will mourn for them? Not me.

He killed them though. That monster did. Why?

To frame me would be impossible. I'm still changed to the floor, I am no more of a threat than spider in the corner. To make me upset seems unlikely, just as I have been seeing the horrors he carries out, he has been seeing my life with them.

Could he have been telling the truth?

"They can't hurt you any more, Harry. I won't let anyone hurt you any more." He had hissed so tenderly in my ear, stroking my hair, caressing my face. I thought in the moment he was taunting me, just before killing me. He didn't though. He kissed my forehead and in that same tender voice whispered he'd take me away soon, when I was ready.

When I was ready. I'll never be ready. He hates me. "HE HATES ME!" I scream loudly scratching my already raw throat. Tears begin flowing freely down my face. I'm crying for myself, because no one else will. No one else ever has. I'm confused. I'm lost. I'm scared.

I hear a bunch of distinctive pops in the short distance. The Order has finally arrived. Has it been hours or just minutes? I don't want to go with the Order. I'll hate them too. I end up hating everyone. I'm tainted, I'm dirty, I'm evil. All those things they screamed at me while they beat me, hit me, destroyed me.

The Order will judge me, as will my friends, my professors, my peers, the world. The blood from the corpses had finally reached my soaking my thread bare pants. Its luke warm stickiness is absorbed quickly by the cloth. I'm drowning in blood.

"I'll save you." A hissing voice whispers from in the deep recess of my slowly failing mind.

I can hear their footsteps now. I should clean up this mess, or cower in a corner, but I couldn't get up. At least that's what I told myself. Those footsteps draw closer and closer, I want to run. Yet, I just knew. I couldn't get up.

I wouldn't get up.

"He just looked so defeated."

That statement echoed around the large dinning hall of the Noble House of Black. No one knew what to say in reply, because it was true. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Saviour of the Wizarding World, the Golden Gryffindor Boy, surrounded by his relatives cooling and drying blood had looked utterly defeated. He was much too thin. He looked ragged, tired, abused. In the end they had all realized that he didn't just look that way. He was that way.

He had been abused, for who knew how long, and they had done nothing to stop it. In a way they all felt defeated too.

"We must not despair and remain strong for Harry's sake." The comforting and strong voice of Albus Dumbledore cut through the silent tension through the room. "He is recovering, and he is strong. He will get through this with the help of his friends and loved ones." His eyes twinkled across the room landing on the family of red heads and frizzy haired brunette. "Poppy says he should wake up by tomorrow, and then we can hear the full story."

"Now wait just a minute Albus." The oldest female redhead, Molly Weasley, stood up indigently. "That boy has suffered enough. I will not have you make him relive this tragic event so soon. He is just a child Albus, you expect too much from him as it is."

A man dressed in all black with a crooked nose and a grim appearance stood as well. "As much as I hate to agree with Weasley, I do agree with her. It is not necessarily the best thing to immediately force a victim of abuse and tragic happenings to share their experience. Most who go through such things need their own time to process." Dumbledore made a move to interrupt but the man just ignored him. "I realize you wish to know what happened to your Golden Boy, but he has probably been suffering this abuse all his life, and we were all to blinded to see it." The man sighed dejectedly. "We owe him this much at least Albus."

Dumbledore looked a bit ruffled, but maintained his composure. "You are correct Severus. We shall allow young Mr. Potter to rest more thoroughly before questioning him." His eyes twinkled. "Unless of course he wishes and needs to share his story."

Severus Snape rolled his eyes. Manipulative genius. His loyalties were tied to one Mr. Harry Potter though, which is something that neither side seemed to fully comprehend. He would make sure Harry Potter lived, regardless of those who wished him to do otherwise. Although the boy infuriated him at times. He was still just a boy, and a boy who was the child of his only friend in Hogwarts. Even if she married his biggest tormentor, she cared for him. So he would care in his own way for Harry.

"When can we see him Professor Dumbledore?" The frizzy hair girl spoke up.

The grandfatherly old man smiled, "As soon as he wakes up. I'm sure he will be most relieved to see his two best friends."

Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger subtle puffed out their chests in pride. They were Harry Potter's best friends. Sadly though, they didn't think they were just Harry's friends. It seemed his title meant more to them than anyone realized.

A small pop was heard and a demented looking elf thing appeared.

"Mr. Albus Dumbledore sir, Harry Potter sir is waking up. Dobby was told to inform Mr. Dumbledore. Can Dobby see Mr. Harry Potter sir?"

Dumbledore looked like Christmas had come early. "Maybe later Dobby, tell Poppy I'll return at once."

"Yes sir." Dobby replied disappearing with a pop.

Dumbledore turned back to the room. "Let us all take a trip back to Hogwarts, and help Harry along in his recovery."

The room was filled with a new hope, and smiled littered the faces all around. Except for Severus Snape. He looked perturbed as the mark on his arm burned with a sense of foreboding he had yet to experience since the Dark Lord's rise.

AN: Love it, hate it? I'm a bit up on the air about this one. It will be a LV/HP slash eventually. I don't really want it to be a bam Harry's on the Dark Side, nor do I want it to be too slow. I guess we'll see if it plays out the way I wish. I apologize for any spelling or grammar mistakes. Please read and review.