Chapter 1
WHIP!
The first strike was always the hardest to take since there was no way to know just when the whip would make contact with his skin. It had all started when he had gotten back from the train station. It happened every year since the summer after his second year. Every year his uncle would be waiting from him at the station, his pig like face smooshed up into an unpleasant scowl. The thick hairs that made up his moustache and eyebrows always stood up on end whenever he made eye contact with the child, and there was always a faint marking around the hair on his uncle’s upper lip where his skin was beginning to turn red.
No words were ever exchanged between the two and Harry made sure to say his farewells to his friends before the train even stopped at the station lest his uncle become even more irritated from having to wait on him. It had only happened once and Harry had learned his lesson quickly. He had been struggling to get his trunk from the boot of the car and in a moment of neverending irritation, his uncle Vernon knocked the back of Harry’s skull so hard that his eyes unfocused for a brief second and his vision swam. He had fought past it in order to hurry up, but when he was in the sanctity of an empty compartment the young boy had to lean his head against the cool window in order to alleviate the throbbing headache.
WHIP! WHIP! WHIP! WHIP!
Now though, young Harry Potter gritted his teeth against the agonizing pain in his back as he was dealt his first punishment of the summer. It seems that Vernon was already in a bad mood, as was usually the case whenever having to interact with Harry, and was taking out said ire out on the poor boy’s already scarred back. To make matters worse, it was during his last meeting with the headmaster where the old wizard had told Harry to be extra good for his uncle this summer as the man had been informed not to hold back on any punishment he saw fit to deal out to him. He could barely comprehend what the wizard had been saying to him as his body was wracked with shakes from hours of torture, but he just knew that this summer was going to be so much more brutal than the ones before.
WHIP! WHIP!WHIP!WHIP!
From his place on the floor Harry was biting his bottom lip so hard to keep from crying out that he could taste blood on his tongue. Try as he might, he wasn’t able to keep in the soft whimper that passed his lips when the whip hit a particularly delicate bruise on his ribs, courtesy of headmaster Dumbledore. This only seemed to anger the whale like man even more as Harry heard his uncle take a step back and could practically feel the whip slice into his flesh with the force the large man had put into his strike.
Small, bony arms shook as the boy tried to hold himself steady. His eyes stung horribly from the sweat that dripped down into his eyes as well as the tears he tried to hold back. His vision was beginning to darken around the outer edges and he only wished and hoped that unconsciousness would take him soon. That was, however, not the case as whoever was above him never actually listened to any of his silent please of help. There was one small mercy though as Vernon began to tire and the strikes began to taper off. It was then that Harry bit almost straight through his lip as he braced himself for the last few hits. This was when Vernon put all his strength into his strikes and it always took Harry every ounce of willpower to not to arch and cry out in agony.
WHIP! WHIP! WHIP!
The last whip forced took away the rest of the strength Harry had and the small boy finally let his weight drop to the floor. He could hear his uncle wrapping the whip up. Pain shot through every molecule of his body and the act of breathing was down right excruciating. Harry didn’t need to look up to see the look on Vernon’s face; he could feel his hatred burning into him the same way the whip did. Time felt like it was on a standstill, that was until the weight of his uncle’s steps could be felt on the hardwood floor. The heavy footed man stopped directly in front of where Harry had curled into a fetal position before throwing his foot back and kicking Harry as hard as he could in the stomach. The boy didn’t even have enough energy to open his eyes and the air was literally kicked out of his body. He managed to just barely open one of his eyes to look up at the terrifying man standing over him.
“Don’t leave any blood on my floor, you welp.” Vernon growled. “Get to your cupboard and I don’t want to hear another sound out of you for the rest of the night. Got me?” The ‘or else’ hung heavy in the air and all the poor child could do was nod weakly before pulling himself into a kneeling position. His limbs shook horribly. He was grateful that his uncle didn’t stick around to wait for him to get up, only stopping to spit in Harry’s direction.
Eventually the young Potter was able to get himself to his feet. He did his best not to fall back to his knees as the world tilted and spun horribly. He limped over to the cupboard under the stairs before opening the door and trying to get into the small space, wincing as his aching muscles shifted as he bent to accommodate his height. Once fully in, he shut the door softly and leaned up against the wall positioning himself in a way that would leave his back free from touching anything. He pulled the dirty baby blanket over himself as his body was wracked with shivers. It was when he didn’t hear any more sound from outside that he let his tears fall.
His chest ached as he tried to hold in the loud sobs that wanted to break free. But he did his best because he knew that his body wouldn’t be able to handle another beating tonight. Harry wasn’t sure how much time had passed by but the tears of the small child finally stopped, leaving behind nothing but feelings of despair and hopelessness. His body hurt all over and his stomach growled in hunger, but Harry knew there was nothing he could do about it. So he shifted once more to get comfortable on the floor. He winced as fire shot up his back, but made no other sound. With his eyes closed, he welcomed the sweet, dark oblivion that was so close to taking him. And although they had never been answered before, Harry sent out a silent prayer, a cry of desperation for anyone out there to save him from the tortoure he had to endure both in his house and at Hogwarts. With a soft sigh, young Harry finally drifted into the land of sleep, baby blanket clutched in hand, having no idea that for once there was somebody out there that heard his cry.