Chapter Text
Harry woke up with a start, sweating with his throat feeling sore. He could still see Cedric's cold body lying on the floor. He still felt the fear and guilt that night had given him. It took him a moment to remember, he was at the Dursleys, Voldemort was not here, he was safe.
As soon as he remembered, he heard heavy footsteps making their way to his room. He had forgotten what often followed after one of his nightmares. The door slammed open, revealing a blurry outline of his uncle, red-faced and furious.
“Why the bloody hell are you yelling at three in the morning,” he bellowed, coming closer to Harry with each word uttered. His face was a mask of rage, his fists clenching. Harry knew this meant trouble, he’d been in this scenario many times this summer and many times before. Normally Vernon just left him with a few bruises, but he could feel this time would be different, for it was the third time he had woken Vernon up. His uncle didn’t take kindly to being woken by Harry once, much less three times in two weeks.
“I didn’t mean to, I swear,” Harry started, trying to calm his relative down, “I just had a nightmare you see, I cant-”
Harry barely had any time to react before Vernon crossed the room, grabbed him by the neck and pushed him against the wall, cutting Harry’s voice off, and any chance to escape. Harry pitifully slapped at his arms, wishing for release.
“I don’t give a fuck, you’ve been causing trouble ever since you’ve gotten back, you ungrateful brat” his uncle screamed, throwing him onto the ground with enough force to cause Harry’s head to swim. Harry tried to push himself up, only to feel a fist punch his face, halting his efforts. He was glad he didn’t have time to put his glasses on prior, for they would have broken with the force of the punch.
He tried to move away again, but his efforts lessened and lessened as each punch landed. He felt the blows land on his face and chest, and stomach. He prayed it was over soon, it normally stopped by now. Eventually, he found himself curling into a ball, trying to protect himself. He didn’t realize until it was too late that his magic was attempting to protect him as well. Harry looked up in horror to find his uncle being pushed away from him by magic, and Harry knew he was facing dire consequences. He had never used magic against one of his relatives, but anytime he did it within their vicinity, the retribution was always worse than others. He shuddered to think what it would be when it was used against one of them.
When his magic ceased, Harry watched as the older man’s face began to grow even enraged, anger seeming to engulf his face. Harry had never seen the man so angry, not even last summer when Harry blew up Aunt Marge, he knew this punishment was going to be the worst he’s ever had. He shuddered to think what would happen, and hoped to God he would survive the ordeal. They had never purposely tried to kill him, but now he wouldn’t put it past his uncle.
“Oh now you’ve done it boy,” he snarled, unbuckling his belt.
Harry found himself growing pale, as the threat loomed above him. Whenever his uncle brought the belt out, he always beat him to the point of passing out. Now, when Harry had just used magic on him, there was no telling what he’d do. There was no where to run to, no way to defend himself. He could only crawl away from him, as his uncle walked towards him with unadulterated hatred written upon his face.
As the first belt strike hit up hard enough to draw blood, he truly wondered if he would survive. Strikes hit him all over his body, from his back to his legs just over and over again. It seemed like it would never end. At one particularly vicious hit, he found himself leaving consciousness. The last thing he heard was his uncle’s grunts of effort as he continued hitting Harry.
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When Harry woke up, he found himself lying on the side of a road that was in the middle of nowhere. He wondered vaguely if this was a dream, then he felt his body and knew immediately that it wasn’t. He looked down to find blood seeping through his clothes and bruises littering his body. With every breath he took, he felt his ribs protesting in anger. As he tried to move from the puddle of blood he was sitting in, he found he could barely move because of the many injuries he had. Harry could do nothing except sit in agony and try not to focus on how much pain he was in.
He wondered if anyone would find him or if this was the end. He found himself wishing for the sweet release of pain, not caring if it was from dying or being saved. He just didn’t want to be in pain anymore. He knew if he survived this, he would still have to go back to the Dursleys next summer, Dumbledore made that very clear. He found himself thinking, even if someone were to find him, if they knew Dumbledore they would probably bring Harry to him, and Dumbledore would make him go back to his relatives. As long as Dumbledore had his little savior at the start of the school year, it didn’t matter what happened to him. It was ironic that one of the most powerful wizards in the world wouldn’t save him from his relatives.
Harry thought about how his relatives left him here. He wondered why this was what set them off. They had always threatened Harry with abandonment, but never followed through because they wanted to keep Harry to do the chores. At least Petunia did. Harry always thought as long as they needed him, they wouldn’t leave him somewhere. He guessed they didn’t need him anymore.
After being awake for about an hour, Harry was startled by a loud crack. He drunkenly looked up and found himself squinting at a man in dark clothes. The man looked around for a moment, then looked straight at Harry on the ground and let out a soft gasp. He kneeled down to him as Harry struggled to get away. He wasn’t sure if this was a friend or foe, and didn’t wish to find out.
“Quit moving, idiot boy,” the voice said, with a mix of anger and sympathy.
Harry attempted to move once again, but didn’t have enough strength to. The first effort had taken a lot out of him, and his consciousness was starting to fade again. He wondered who this person was and if he was leaving himself to someone who would hurt him or help him. Harry desperately wished for the latter, but he knew luck was rarely on his side.