The Pain of Harry Potter (Completely Redone)

A/N: Thanks alot to those who have read so far and reviewed. I know this is a rather disturbing story so I'm sorry if that bothers you, but things will lighten up eventually. Also I want to mention that the HP/DM pairing will occur way in the future and is the not the main focus now. I hope you enjoy this chapter and more soon!

Warnings: Rape, Torture, Angst, M/M, M/F, violence. If you don’t like it, please don’t read it.

Summary: After enduring a scarring summer, Harry is forced to face his inner demons in order to find a way to defeat the Dark Lord. He receives unexpected help along the way. (This takes place after OOTP so please disregard HBP.)

Disclaimer: Don’t own a thing, don’t sue.

Two: Abuse and Concern

It had been almost a week and a half since Harry had gotten back to Privet Drive. The abuse continued, of course, Harry’s uncle unrelenting in his need to torture him. His uncle didn't and refused to give up the opportunity to continue to abuse Harry. The man found himself enjoying it more and more with each passing day, but he was never quite sure as to why he loved it so much. He still hadn't used the rope on Potter...He was saving it for a time when he would need it most. Although he was constantly tempted to use it when he was beating the boy, he still didn't—he had a sense of self-control. Vernon, as evil and malicious as he was, still hadn't noticed the many scars that were on the boy's wrists when he beat him, and if Harry was thankful for anything, it was that his uncle hadn't discovered his secret.

Harry kept the cutting going almost everyday, storing the knife underneath his bed where he knew it would be safe. He hadn't been sexually abused since the day his uncle raped him, but the heavier man would, without doubt, hit him in the groin when ever he was being beaten. His aunt had given up hope of helping Harry relatively quickly, and she now focused mainly on Dudley, who was getting steadily fatter throughout that week. Along with the deep hatred he felt for his uncle and cousin, he was now starting to hate his aunt. She wouldn't aid him like she did the day he was raped, and she too, seemed to enjoy Harry being tortured.

Harry sat on his bed that morning, buried in a deep depression as he stared out the locked window onto the street. People continued to pass by, laughing, smiling, and joking around with each other. He wondered how people could still be living normal lives as he experienced his tortured one. Despite that, Harry was sure the ones that saw Vernon abuse him on the street were talking; Most people began to avoid the Dursleys' because of this.

On the fifth day of that week, his uncle had taken the liberty to re-attach all the locks to Harry's bedroom door, making sure the boy wouldn't be able to escape. And when Harry accidentally started to protest (soon wishing he had kept quiet) his uncle ran into the room, and beat Harry violently with his hammer.

Harry looked down at his body, his green eyes watering at the sight.

He was covered in bruises and cuts, and full of pain, especially his wrists—both were so black and blue with bruises that not even Harry could see the scars of where he cut himself. Because his uncle preferred to grab the boy by the wrists when he was beating him, it made his skin darken to a sickly shade of blue. The hammer his uncle had beaten him with a few days ago had cut Harry just above his belly button, as well as other places all over his chest, and each cut was now swollen and red. Harry was sure he had infections there. To top it off, the various black and blue marks everywhere else covered all the other cuts he had. Harry's only escape from this was to bring the knife to his wrists and slice himself into darkness…

Harry looked up dully when he heard someone unlocking the various locks on his door. He was scared it was Vernon, but it turned out to be none other than Dudley, who had a large chunk of bread in his hand. Harry had slowly and secretly consumed the food he had saved, but he hardly had anything left—just an edge of the bread he had taken his first night back on Privet Drive. His soup began to rot days after he stored it, so he refused to eat it, thus slowly starving himself into further weakness.

The fat boy glared at Harry, and Harry felt too weak to even look up at him, so he cast his glance down at his dirty bed sheets. Dudley surveyed Harry for a moment, watching the skinny boy in disgust, covered with cuts all over his chest and bruises everywhere. He is so weak, Dudley thought to himself, still staring at Harry, who’s had lifted his head up, wondering what his cousin wanted. Those pathetic, emerald eyes looked straight into Dudley's hard, cold ones.

"Here's your food for the next week," Dudley spat, emotionless, throwing the small piece of bread to the floor.

Harry made no move to get it. He felt too tired and weak to do anything other than breathe.

Dudley was fuming instantly. Why wasn't this boy jumping at his voice? He was sure Harry was afraid of him—he had to be frightened of him.

"I said here's your food," Dudley repeated, every word full of contempt.

Harry merely nodded, and Dudley walked quickly over to Harry, sending a sharp slap across the boy's face. Harry gasped at the contact, and nearly fell off his bed before catching himself on the bedpost. Dudley grabbed an already, extremely black and blue wrist, and Harry moaned in pain despite trying to bite back the sound. He wanted to cry because of this, but he refused to do it in front of Dudley. The fat boy was now looming over him.

"What do you say when I give you something?" Dudley snarled.

Harry looked up at him. He knew he had to say thank-you. His uncle made sure Harry said that for everything they gave him, or Dudley was given permission to beat Harry as much as he wanted.

"T-thank you," Harry stammered, still shocked at the pain coursing through his body.

Dudley smiled darkly.

"That's better," he said, letting go of Harry's wrist. “But I think you should get a hit from dad as well for being so rude while I was here,” Dudley continued, a malicious grin splayed across his fat face.

Harry's eyes grew wide as Dudley called for his father and without warning, Harry cracked again. He would not be beaten by Vernon Dursley once more. It took all the strength Harry could muster to jump from the bed and tackle Dudley to the floor. Dudley was screaming under him, fighting for Harry to get off, as Harry attempted to clap his hand over the fat boy's mouth but he managed to yell out all the same.

"Dad!" came the scared screams from Dudley's mouth, as the two boys' struggled. "DAD, HELP ME!!"

As if on cue, the door burst open with Vernon and Petunia Dursley stood in the doorway, both their faces draped in shock. Harry immediately jumped off his cousin and rushed back to his bed, crouching in the corner like a frightened animal. He knew he shouldn't have done that. He was going to get beaten beyond belief, he could feel it.

Harry's uncle's eyes grew wide when he witnessed what had just happened. The man's face went from red to purple in a matter of seconds, and Harry was sure he was going to explode any moment. Harry's aunt made a soft cry as she ran over to her son and helped him up, cooing him and calming him at what had just happened. All three of the Dursleys' glared at Harry from the doorway, but no one looked as murderous as Vernon.

"How dare you touch my son," Vernon Dursley snarled, his voice a menacing whisper. He was shaking with fury—He had never been so upset in his entire life. That stupid Potter had tried to harm his son...

"Petunia," he said, slightly more calm, "Get me the rope."

Harry felt his body freeze, the blood rushing from his face, causing him to go instantly cold as if the temperature in the room had just dropped below zero.

Harry's aunt snickered and walked out of the room as quickly as she could, taking Dudley with her. Harry's uncle still stood in the doorway, smiling at what he was going to do to this stupid boy. Harry, for once, had never felt more scared in his entire life as he did now. It was only seconds later when Harry's aunt walked back in with a load of rope in her hands and gave it to her husband, smirking, and slammed the door shut. Harry could hear all the locks being closed.

Vernon smiled at the scared, pale boy in the corner.

"You will learn," he said viciously, "What happens to wrong doers in my house."

Vernon jumped for Harry as soon as the last word left his mouth and Harry bolted off of the bed, inches from the man's grasp. He ran to the door and screamed for help, pounding his fists to it, begging and pleading his aunt or cousin to open it. He could hear their sadistic laughs from downstairs as well as the laugh from his uncle when he grabbed Harry and dragged the struggling boy to the bed.

Harry began screaming violently and in a matter of seconds, his throat became hoarse from doing so. As he struggled in vain against his uncle, and the man forcefully grabbed Harry's right wrist and tied it to one end of the bed, and then did the same with the left one.

Harry still screamed, still struggled, fearing for his life, praying that someone on the street could hear him and call the police. He kicked Vernon in the face as the man tried to tie his left foot to the end of the bed. Vernon yelled out in rage and pain and punched Harry so hard on his chest, Harry was winded for a few minutes, unable to breathe, let alone move.

Coughing and sputtering for breath, Harry still tried again to release himself from the much bigger man as he easily tied the weak boy's feet to the corners of the bed.

Vernon stared down at Harry once he was finished, a sick smile spreading over his face. Harry continued to scream as Vernon walked across the room and pulled out a sock from a drawer before shoving it in Harry's mouth.

Tears were falling down Harry's cheeks now as the man got on top of him and slowly pulled his pants off. Harry tried to scream again, but it was muffled by the sock in his mouth. His uncle was still smiling his sick smile as he tore of Harry's pants, his fat fingers brushing over Harry’s skin. The boy flailed under him, but it was no use, as the man had now thrown Harry's boxers to a corner of the room, leaving Harry stark naked under him.

"It was one thing when you were unconscious," his uncle said, sadistic smile still in place, "But I think I'll enjoy this so much more that you're awake."

And suddenly Harry's world exploded in pain.

His anguished screams were still muffled by the sock in his mouth as his uncle roughly pounded in and out of him. The man still had his smile on his face, and to Harry's horror, mixed with what seemed like utter pleasure as the man continued to abuse Harry internally. Harry cried tremendously, the tears still rolling down his bruised cheeks, as he heard the sound of his own ripping flesh and felt warm blood trailing down his thighs. His eyes widened at this and he continued to cry and wish it would all end. Black and red spots clouded his vision as his uncle continued to terrorize and rape him, and almost instantly, Harry found that he had fainted again.

***

"Do you want something to eat?" the dark haired man asked the girl.

They were both sitting at the dining table in the kitchen, but she hadn't touched her food although it had been almost thirty minutes since dinner was served. It was rare when Snape made her something, seeing as he spent most of his time away from her, teaching at Hogwarts. House elves usually cooked for the girl. Snape was now seeing himself slightly desperate to please her, but she stared down at her food, her face still emotion free.

"I made this just for you," he said, pushing the plate of food closer to the girl. She looked up at him, and this made Severus Snape, the man who was full of hatred and anger, nearly break out in tears. He realized her eyes were full of such emotional and mental trauma as they looked at each other. He found himself nearly bursting with guilt, but as usual, stopped these emotions from getting the better of him.

She shook her head and got up from the table without a word.

"Where are you going?" Snape asked, getting up as well.

She turned her back to him and said, her voice in a whisper, "I'm going to walk around the castle."

Snape made no protest or sound as the girl nearly ran out of the kitchen and down the corridor. He could hear a door slamming again as she left his living quarters. She undoubtedly found the castle more interesting than him.

***

Harry hadn't woken up until almost a full two days later. His body had been so abused and tired, it needed the non-stop sleep. He had suddenly heard a tapping sound near the window, but he couldn't open his eyes. The memories of what had happened to him came flooding back in his mind, and he found himself crying silently and some what hysterically at what he had gone through.

When he realized he was still tied to the bed his eyes snapped open.

Vernon left him there. Just like that.

Harry struggled feebly but he knew it was no use. The rope was too thick and tied too tight for Harry to even make it budge. His eyes were still filled with tears as he inclined his head back toward the locked window. He blinked, as he could have sworn he saw an owl. It looked a lot like his best friend, Ron Weasley’s owl. But as soon as Harry blinked again it was gone.

It was probably a figment of his imagination. Harry was so desperate to get out and go back to his normal life, he was sure he was starting to hallucinate. He thought about Ron and his other friends and then started to sob silently, knowing that he would probably never see them again.

***

A week had passed and the girl was still not talking to him. Snape found himself now becoming incredibly impatient with her. He didn't know why she was still dragging herself around his quarters, looking like a miserable restless ghost in black clothing as she quickly walked by. He continued to cook for her and such, and one day, even offered to take her out to the Quidditch pitch and fly around with her. She, of course, refused, and locked herself up in her bedroom. And at that, Snape groaned in confusion and anger.

It was a day later, while Snape was leafing through one of his many potions books at his desk, that she walked in casually.

He looked up, slightly surprised to see her there.

The little light in the room made her look even more like a ghost, and the constant, black clothing at she wore, made her seem so much skinnier and paler than she actually was.

"Yes?" Snape asked, putting his book down on his desk.

Maybe she was finally feeling up to spending time with him?

"Dumbledore needs to see you," she said simply.

Snape's bit of hope was instantly crushed out of him. He frowned.

"Why?" he asked, biting back the anger in his voice.

"I don't know," she said, sounding a little haughty.

"When did he ask you?" Snape asked.

She looked as if she wanted to slap the man at his stupid questioning. "Just a few minutes ago," she muttered. "I ran into him while I was walking in the hallway."

And before Snape could ask her anything else, the girl rushed out of the study, and he could hear her down the corridor again, and then of course, the slamming door. Snape was slightly put out. He had honestly hoped that she would liked to have spent time with him.

He got up from his desk and out of the study, walking down the corridor, glancing at the only closed door (which was hers) and then walking out of his quarters. He was in the hallways of the school now, the Headmaster's office not being too far from where he lived.

He approached the stone gargoyle that stood in front of the entrance to Dumbledore's office, and muttered, "Lemon drop," to the beast.

It sprang to life almost instantly and jumped to the side, letting Snape through the doors that would take him to where he needed to go. He stepped on the moving staircase, and in a minute or so, he was at the entrance to Dumbledore's office. He lifted his hand to knock, but the door swung open immediately as if Dumbledore could see through the wood and knew he had arrived.

Dumbledore stood there, that stupid twinkle in his eyes, as he smiled at the glum Potions Master.

"Good day, Severus," he said, ushering Snape inside.

Snape nodded curtly as the door closed behind him.

Severus was never a big fan of Dumbledore's office, seeing as it was full of odd instruments and rubbish that Snape thought one with sense would never leave in an office.

The old man sat down by a chair, which looked out to the Hogwarts grounds. Snape walked over to the man, but refused to sit.

"She told me you needed to speak to me," Snape said, trying to hide the bitterness in his voice.

"Yes," Dumbledore said quietly. "It's quite urgent."

"What's wrong?" Snape asked as the older man got up from his seat and walked over to his desk. He opened a drawer and pulled out a wad of letters. Snape couldn't help it as his eyes widened. There had to be, from the looks of it, at least thirty letters.

"Are those for me?" Snape asked, slightly confused. Who would ever send him that many letters? He hardly got letters at all.

Dumbledore's twinkle was suddenly extinguished, which began to make Snape nervous seeing as that never happened.

"No, no," said the man, shaking his head. "They were all addressed to Harry Potter."

Snape felt himself frown. Why the hell was this man making him get involved with the Potter brat?

Suddenly, a snowy white owl flew down from a perch and landed right next to Dumbledore. Snape instantly recognized the bird as Potter's... but why was it here? From the looks of it, the animal seemed to have suffered an injury. The owl was putting most of its weight to its right leg. Had it been injured? Snape snapped his eyes away from the bird and looked up at the Headmaster.

"I'm afraid that there is something happening to Harry at his caretaker's home," Dumbledore said, sitting down once again, and putting the letters down on his desk. The owl hooted softly.

"You see," Dumbledore continued, "It has been almost a month since the summer holidays began, and Harry's friends, Mr. Ron Weasley, and Ms. Hermione Granger, had been sending quite a few owls to Harry's home, of Number Four, Privet Drive. Harry hadn't replied the first time they sent letters, so they sent them again. As you can see," Dumbledore said, his hand brushing over the many letters, "They seemed to have grown worried at Harry's sudden silence. It's not normal for him not to answer their letters. And then," he glanced over at the white owl, "Almost a week after the holidays began, Harry's owl had been tapping at the windows to my office. I let her in and saw she looked extremely weak and injured. I, however, found no letter with her."

Snape didn't know where Dumbledore was getting at with his little speech, but he stayed silent and listened.

"I wondered to myself, how odd it would be that his owl show up with no letter—Or that his owl show up here at all," Dumbledore said quietly. "The boy seemed to have such contempt for me at the end of the school year, especially with the death of his godfather, I didn't understand why the boy would ever send an owl to me. And most recently, I have received somewhat, anguished notes from his two friends, who are currently spending their summers at the Headquarters, telling me they are extremely worried about Harry, as he hasn't answered their countless letters."

Snape nodded, but in his head he didn't care about the Potter boy. He was sure he hadn't answered because he was so busy with his damn family fawning over him. Stupid Boy-Who-Lived—

"I see myself becoming slightly worried as well from Harry's silence," Dumbledore said, cutting off Snape's train of thought. "Severus, I know you two have had...a somewhat unpleasant relationship with each other, but it would simply put my mind at ease if you went to check up on the boy and see to it that he is fine."

Snape's eyes snapped open at this request. He found himself heating what rage. If Dumbledore knew how he felt about Potter, why the hell was he sending him to go check up on the brat? He glared at Dumbledore, who was calmly stroking the white owl.

"Why must I go?" Snape asked, trying to calm the disgust in his voice.

Dumbledore looked up at him.

"Well, I have voiced my concern to various other teachers, but many of them are too far away or are on vacation for them to get here in time. You however," he said, "have been spending the summer here, and you are most convenient to ask."

Snape frowned.

"What about Poppy?" Snape asked, referring to the school nurse.

"She is simply a medi-witch," Dumbledore said. He waved his hand in the air, suddenly urgent. "Please Severus, just put the past behind you and go check on him. That's all I'm requesting."

Snape wanted to go over and slap the calm Headmaster, but thought better of it.

"Fine," he spat. "When should I go?"

Dumbledore thought for a moment before speaking up.

"Tomorrow morning would be the best time," he said.

"Fine. Is that all?" he asked darkly.

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, thank you Severus. You may return to your quarters and continue your day as you wish."

Snape again, nodded curtly as he walked furiously out the Headmaster's office, slamming the door furiously behind him.

TBC