Disclaimer: I own nothing, none of this is true.
Summary: Dark!fic. There is a point where everyone breaks, unfortunately for the Dursley's, Harry has just reached his. Set when Marge visits in POA. Warnings: Child Abuse and Character Deaths. Prompt: Harry Potter, author's choice, mercy and pity are something he lost while locked in a dark cupboard, bloodied and bruised, from comment_fic on Livejournal.
Author's Note:Darkest thing I've ever written, not sure how I feel about this fic to be honest.
"You gave the boy Duddykins' second bedroom? Why would you do that for that good for nothing wretch, Vernon?" Petunia cringed as she watched bits of half chewed food fly out of her husband's sister's mouth. "He doesn't deserve anything better than that cupboard you used to keep him in."
"Well... He got a bit too big to fit in it, Marge." her husband simpered.
"Nonsense!" Marge replied. She waved a dismissive hand. "I'm sure it will be perfectly simple to shove itback in there." Petunia watched worriedly as the freak's jaw tensed. He'd better stay in control of himself or it wouldn't just be Vernon that he had to deal with.
Petunia hated the boy, but only because of the fact that he was Lily's son and was a one of 'them'. If he hadn't been, if he had been her son, he would have been a son to be proud of, clever, kind and honest. It just made her hate him more. She may have emotionally mistreated the boy because of it, but she would never lay a physical hand on him. Vernon, on the other hand, delighted in giving the boy an occasional smack to 'show the freak his place'. Petunia never stopped him.
Marge hated the boy too, hated that he was better than her beloved nephew. She believed that beating him would knock the cleverness out of him, that it would make him inferior to Dudley and had been the main reason that encouraged Dudley to bully his cousin. Between her and Vernon, they had made Dudley into a cruel, horrible child. Petunia wasn't blind to this, nor was she blind to her own fault in creating the person her son was, no matter how much she pretended to be unaware of his faults. Still, she would much rather him to a freak.
"You should have left him at an orphanage when you found him on your doorstep, Vernon, or better yet, you should've drowned him like the vermin he is, would have spared everyone the horror of his disgusting self. His parents would have thanked you, even being the good for nothings that they were." Marge's tongue was always loosened by the brandy she insisted on drinking. It invariably showed her spiteful, mean inner self.
The glass smashed in her hand. Petunia screamed in shock, throwing the boy a glance. Hopefully Marge would shut up now, or there was no knowing what the boy would do if he got too angry.
Petunia watched worriedly as Marge waved the boy over to clean up the glass, degrading and insulting his parents viciously. She could tell that the boy had reached his limit just before he let out an angry yell, correcting what Marge had been saying with the delusions he had been told about his parents.
Suddenly, Marge's arm swung out, hitting the boy clean across the face and throwing him to the floor.
"How dare you speak to me like that, you filthy, ungrateful brat." The boy started to sit up, hand holding his cheek, but Marge kicked him swiftly in the gut and he fell back down with a gasp.
"Dudley!" Marge called as she turned to her nephew. "Why don't you help me teach this freak a lesson?" Dudley stood up hurriedly, a mean grin stretched across his face as he gleefully agreed to help his Aunt. Together they started hitting and kicking the boy, delighting in his gasps and cries of pain.
Petunia watched with disturbed worry. She wasn't too pleased with their actions but was also completely unwilling to stop them. Vernon didn't join them, but seemed to share their same sick amusement.
When a stray kick hit the boys head and he passed into unconsciousness, they soon grew bored of beating his motionless body, instead looking on in disgust at the mess of blood on the floor.
They threw the boy's unconscious body into the cupboard, slamming and locking the door after him. Petunia watched them in a frozen state of shock.
"Vernon..." she whispered. Her eyes flickered from the cupboard to her husband. "I fear we may have gone too far this time."
The look in Vernon's eyes told her he felt the same, but he pulled himself up with false bravado. "Don't worry, Pet, it's nothing the freak didn't deserve, isn't that right, Marge?" He turned towards his sister, he had always deferred to her, found it simpler to follow her lead.
"Of course, that and more, we're doing the world a favour by putting that scum in his place." It was times like this that Petunia was very glad that Marge didn't know the whole truth about the boy, if she had, he would most definitely be dead now.
Vernon chuckled weakly. "Yes... More brandy, Marge?"
"Yes, thank you Vernon, I'll have a small glass before bed." Soon after that, they all went upstairs to bed, unaware of the presence that was starting to awaken in the cupboard under the stairs.
With the fierce anger combined with the pain the boy was feeling, the fragment of pure rage and darkness began to stir. It slowly started to reach out, feeding on the anger, being welcomed by it. As it slithered out to approach the subconscious mind, it traced through the memories of its host, consuming them and absorbing the information they provided. As it reached its destination, it had all the information it needed to be able to connect with the subconscious and over power it with black thoughts, filling it with knowledge and unearthing thoughts that would help the fragment bury deeper so it could merge fully with the main soul.
When finally the merge had completed, green eyes shot open, older and consumed by anger and hate. The boy's magic rose to the surface, flickering and eager to cause pain and damage. The boy was different, destructive and dangerous. He felt powerful for the first time in his life. He had been unleashed from the cage of fear and the limits of the good, his pure soul had been tainted.
With the added power and memories of the soul piece, he had just enough ability to use his magic with a force designed to harm, to maim the things, the people that had caged and tried to destroy him.
Glancing around in the small dark space of the cupboard, Harry grinned. How very nice of his Uncle to lock him in the cupboard with all his school things. With his magic surrounding him in a detached, pain free bubble, he rummaged through his trunk until he found his prize.
He clasped his wand tightly and whispering the spell he had heard Hermione use in their first year, watched as the door sprung open.
He looked around the dark hallway, taking in the silence of the house. He walked quietly to the stairs, ascending carefully. It wouldn't do to wake anybody until it was time.
Petunia woke with a start, he eyes immediately locking onto the wild eyes of her nephew. She gasped in fear as she stared into those torturous eyes and she could tell that he was going to kill her, her and everybody else in the house. Mercy and pity are something he lost while locked in a dark cupboard, bloodied and bruised by their hands. They had betrayed the trust of this child and now their actions had come back to be the judge of their demise. Their death would be at the hands of the one they had hurt and abused. Petunia accepted this fact and knew that while they didn't deserve anything less, she still hated this child with all her being.
Staring into the eyes of her soon to be murderer Petunia let her hate filter through. It over took her fear and consumed her, ripping through her mind and tearing it to pieces. It was her hate that had made the boy what he was, and so it would be her hate that killed her. The boy amplified it, a blank mask fixed on his face as the emotion exacerbated by magic made his Aunt's mind explode across the room covering everything but the boy, protected as he was by his magic.
The explosion was enough to wake his Uncle, who started with a sound of shock. He took in his surroundings, not quite understanding what he was seeing until his eyes landed on the boy. His face darkened with anger.
"You! Boy! I am go-" He was cut off as an invisible force tightened around his throat, cutting off his breath. He made a desperate gurgling sound, hand grasping at his throat, trying to pull away something that wasn't there. His eyes started to bulge out of his face as he turned and alarming shade of puce. The boy reached out a hand until it was level with his Uncle's chest and closed his hand into a fist, yanking his arm back towards himself, his Uncle's heart following in its wake. Vernon let out one last gurgled gasp before falling back onto the bed, dead.
The boy looked at the heart in his hands before savagely ripping it to pieces and throwing them onto the floor to mix with the remains of his Aunt's brain. He took one last look around the room before he turned and walked out, not once looking back.
He moved to the next door along the hallway, Dudley's room. He stood over Dudley where he lay on the bed, studying him carefully while he decided how to kill him. He swung his arm through the air above Dudley harmlessly, but something solid impacted with Dudley's stomach, waking him with a grunt.
The boy grinned, throwing his fists through the air as hard as he could, his magic impacting with Dudley's body as he was slowly beaten to death. Once he was silent and limp with death, the boy stopped, panting for breath. That was three down, now only one to go.
He moved to the last occupied room in the hallway and looked into it at the woman who was his so called 'Aunt'. She was no relation of his, a fact that he was glad of. If his real Aunt hadn't married that fat pig of a husband, he would never have been forced into association with that... He could not find the words to describe the pure evil, spiteful person that Marge was. The torment she had put him through was beyond comprehension and he wanted her to suffer, terribly. He wanted her to suffer like she had made him suffer his whole life.
His earliest memories, nay, nightmares, to be truthful, were of Marge and her cruelty. Her and her hateful dog, Ripper, who had been too ill to come on this visit. The boy was of two minds about this fact. He was glad that the dog hadn't been there to add to the torture, but he also found it unfortunate that it wasn't there for him to enact his revenge on it like he was with the rest of this abominable family.
He decided to settle on the former, he might not be alive if the dog had been there to join in on the beating that he had been given after supper.
He walked towards the bed and just let his magic loose. It danced through the air, travelling steadily towards the body of the sleeping woman. When it reached her, it burnt her skin with a fierce pain, burrowing deep into her body, surrounding her inside and out and waking her with the sheer pain that was devouring her.
His magic greedily spread through her, snapping every bone it came across and causing massive welts to appear all over her skin. He stared at her, his rage consuming him, body and soul, watching as the woman shook in fear and pain. Paralysed and broken, he left her to die.
"Nothing you don't deserve." He sneered as a paused in the doorway, his back still facing the room. "I'm doing the world a favour, removing your scum from people's lives." He completed his exit and stood for a second in the hallway, breathing deeply.
Now, it was time to leave.
He stepped out of the house, pulling his trunk behind him. He looked up and down the street before setting off up the road towards the park. He had to get to London, but he didn't yet know how.
When he reached the park, he sat on the curb, eyes catching sight of a dog in an alley. The dog soon disappeared around the corner, only to be replaced by a dirty man in ragged clothing.
"Harry?" the man called. "You- Are you hurt? What's happened?" He approached carefully, eyes taking in the damage done to the boy before him.
The boy looked up at the haggard man. "Don't worry," he replied, a savage grin crossed his face. "They've all been dealt with."