To Live a Forgotten Dream

I do not own Harry Potter!

Warning: VERY GRAPHIC CHAPTER

Blah thoughts

“Blah” speech

/blah/ Parseltongue

IXIXIXIXIX

Memories of Hell: Blood, Tears, and Realizations…

Ron was the first to walk into his Snape’s office and see a stunned Harry lying half naked on the couch, severely injured.

“Bloody hell, you fucking bastard, what did you do to him?” he yelled at the black-haired man. Everyone else had stopped at the door at this statement.

Snape sneered, “You don’t honestly think I would strike him, do you? Apparently he’s been running around in a rather complex glamour for the past day or so. I realized this and removed it. I had to stun him to keep him from running off.” The three other adults and two teens looked at each other in confusion.

“Professor, why would Harry need to use a glamour spell?” Hermione asked. The man’s expression softened, “That’s why we’re here. I have an idea, but I’m not sure. I need the Headmaster’s permission to use Legilimency.” He glanced at Dumbledore, who nodded, and conjured enough chairs for everyone.

“This might be rather graphic, so if you feel you need to leave, do so.” Everyone nodded and sat down. Snape followed their example, and then pointed his wand at Harry’s temple before whispering ‘multi-legillimans projecta’. Immediately memories of Harry’s life at the Dursley’s were projected in front of the six.

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Harry was a skinny, black-haired, green eyed three years old. He was wearing slightly too large clothes, hand-me-downs from his cousin Dudley, and was carrying a rag in one hand while holding up his pants in the other. Currently he was reaching towards the large glass swan on top of the coffee table in the parlor to clean it.

He was stretching as far as he could when the front door slammed and he lost his balance, knocking over the graceful swan as he fell. The glass figure fell directly on its elegant neck and, with a crack, broke off. Harry stood up and looked at the once beautiful sculpture with tears in his eyes.

(A/N: Baby talk ahead…)

He ran into the kitchen where his aunt was preparing lunch and buried his face in her leg, “Mama, I’m sorwy, I didin mean to broked the bird.” Petunia had a small smile on her lips until she noticed who it was now attached to her leg. She sneered and kicked him off.

“You pathetic piece of filth, I am not, nor ever will be, your mother!” she screeched at him. He cowered, hurt in his eyes. “What did you break this time, you worthless freak?” He pointed to the parlor and followed after her when she stormed off. She shrieked when she saw the broken body of the once graceful swan, and picked up the small boy, throwing him in his cupboard as she passed into the kitchen.

Five hours later the front door slammed harder as Vernon came home from work, “Petunia, Dudley, I’m home!” “Dada, dada!” a slightly portly three year old with blond hair came tearing into the foyer from the kitchen. Vernon picked up the boy and hugged him as Petunia followed at a more sedate pace. She kissed he husband hello before the small family went into the kitchen to eat dinner.

After Dudley was put to bed, Petunia told Vernon of the occurrences earlier that day. Face purple with rage, he stormed over to Harry’s cupboard and wrenched the door open. Harry was curled into a ball, trying to sleep when a large hand painfully grabbed his neck and pulled him from the cupboard. He was flung the floor as Vernon began to berate him. He tried to listen, but failed as Vernon backhanded him.

The man froze and wildly looked around as though waiting for something. When it didn’t come, a malicious grin spread across his face as he began to hit and kicked his nephew. Harry didn’t make a sound as the blows were inflicted upon his small body. After ten minutes of this, Harry was thrown back into his cupboard with many cuts and bruises, as well as a sprained wrist, broken ankle and concussion.

Harry had curled up in a ball, silently crying, as a golden glow surrounded him and the pain and blood disappeared. After his injuries healed, Harry fell asleep with a small smile on his face after murmuring a small, “Thank you, mum.” to the darkness of the cupboard.

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The viewers had a hard time believing what they had seen, until the rest of the memories of the next three years showed much the same thing, sometimes worse. Often he was beaten with a belt and odd things around the house. Each time the golden glow came back and healed the boy. Many terrible things were done to him; however, nothing could have prepared them for what they saw next.

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Vernon was in the parlor as Harry was washing dishes in the kitchen. Petunia had taken Dudley out shopping, as he had outgrown his newest clothes at an astounding rate. He had just finished up and was about to drain the sink when a hoarse voice from the parlor called out, “Boy! Bring me a cup of tea!” “Yes, Uncle Vernon!” Harry answered, already putting the kettle on the stove.

Ten minutes later, Harry handed a steaming cup of tea to his uncle. As he turned to leave, a hand grabbed his hair and pulled him back. “Did I dismiss you?” a voice hissed behind him. Harry shook his head, “No, sir.” he whimpered as he felt the hot breath on his neck when Vernon whispered in his ear, “What do you think I should do about this?” Harry remained silent, knowing his uncle was going to beat him and determined not to make it any worse.

Vernon began punching and kicking the small boy repeatedly before pulling his shirt open and pouring the hot tea down his back. Harry screamed as the boiling liquid scalded his flesh. The beefy man began kicking him once more, moving him a little each time, until they reached the kitchen.

“Get up! Get up and get a rag to clean up the mess you made in the parlor!” Harry tried, but couldn’t move. Vernon stomped away for a minute, but quickly came back with a butcher knife. He ripped the boy’s shirt off and began to cut into his skin. Harry screamed, but was quickly silenced when he was backhanded.

‘Lazy’, ‘Freak’, and ‘Burden’ were carved onto various places on his body as he struggled to remain silent under his uncle’s torture. Finally, the man ceased. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. It was very short lived, however, as Vernon ripped off his remaining clothes and violently entered him.

Harry screamed and cried as his uncle grunted like a pig behind him. Blood poured out of his wounds and down his leg from the ultimate violation. Harry sobbed while Vernon took is innocence, crying for the pain and humiliation he was enduring.

When Vernon finished, he drug the boy out into the foyer and threw him into his cupboard, then proceeded to clean up the evidence of his misdeeds.

Harry curled up in a ball in his cupboard, pain felt through out his entire body. This time, after the golden g low, he continued crying because he finally realized that he was truly alone.

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Everyone was crying when this scene finished playing. They couldn’t believe what the poor young man lying in front of them had endured. They continued to watch as Vernon’s sadistic ‘games’ continued. It seems that Petunia remained unaware of the full abuse Harry suffered at the hands of her husband, and Vernon made sure that no one found out.

The ‘games’ ceased once Harry started Hogwarts, but the beatings only became less frequent. That was, until the end of Fifth year.

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Harry was backhanded as soon as he entered his bedroom at Number Four Privet Drive. He was sent flying in to the opposite wall. “No one threatens me! No one! You’ll pay for this, boy! You’ll pay for putting your freak friends up to this!” each word was punctuated by a punch or a kick. One of the most severe beatings he had had accompanied this statement, and this time, no golden glow.

The next few months were Hell on Earth for the young man as he was forced to do dozens of hard chores and was beaten at least once daily. He did write the required letters to the Order, with Vernon standing over his shoulder the whole time, all saying the same thing, he was fine, the Dursleys were being pretty nice and leaving him alone, etc. etc. Luckily, Vernon hadn’t started his ‘games’ again.

His sleep, when he managed it, was far from restful until he began to brew the Dreamless Sleep potion like he had had to do the year before. He managed to get out secret orders for the ingredients at night time and keep the potion vials hidden underneath the loose floorboard in his room.

By the time September First rolled around, he was a mess. As soon as he stepped though the barrier at Platform 9 ¾ he felt the golden glow well up. He held it off and quickly slipped underneath his invisibility cloak and headed to the bathroom on board. Once inside, he released the pent up energy and the glow surrounded him, ten times brighter than before.

Completely healed from the beatings, he slowly made his way to an empty compartment and tried to get some sleep, away from the night mares that had been plaguing him since the Third Task and the Department of Mysteries.

His rest didn’t last long as he heard his two best friends down the corridor. He quickly threw up a wandless concealing charm to cover his weight and the dark circles underneath his eyes. He spent the rest of the trip to Hogwarts acting like his ‘old’ self.

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“That’s why he was so distant all last year. The night mares and what happened over the summer.” Hermione gasped. Ron shushed her, “Mione, we’ll talk about this later, just watch.” She nodded and a new series of memories popped up.

The summer after sixth year was no where near as good as the last year, as the group would soon find out.

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Much the same as the year before, Harry was given a beating as soon as he stepped into his room. This time, when he slid into unconsciousness, he didn’t wake up for two days, and when he did, he wished that he didn’t.

He had been moved to the dank wet cellar of the Dursley’s house. Not only that but he was stripped to his boxers and manacled to the wall. His immediate thoughts traveled along the lines of, “Oh, fuck. What now?” He didn’t have to wait long to find out. A light appeared at the top of the stairs and Vernon’s loud footsteps echoed down into the otherwise silent basement.

When Vernon’s face entered Harry’s view, he could see the lust and malicious glee in his eyes. Vernon pulled a chain next to where Harry sat and watched as he was dragged to his feet by the manacles and stuck trying to stand on his toes. Harry’s arms seared with pain as they were almost ripped from their sockets.

Dursley wasted no time as he jabbed and kicked the young man like a human punching bag. After an hour of this, he brought out the butcher knife and began to carve in to his skin like he had almost ten years before. Harry gritted his teeth and bore the pain. Vernon hadn’t been able to do so much as bring a whimper out of Harry since he was ten.

Weak and bloody, Harry hung on the manacles. He couldn’t hold himself up anymore. Vernon opened his bonds and he immediately crumpled to the floor. He was quickly picked up by the back of his neck and flung onto a small, ratty mattress in the corner with another set of manacles imbedded in the wall.

He was once more incapacitated as his wrists were shoved into the cuffs. Harry suddenly realized what was happening when his boxers were ripped off of his bruises and broken body. He shut his eyes tight as Vernon was being particularly violent, and bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

When his uncle noticed he wasn’t screaming like he should have been, he grabbed the butcher knife and began carving as he grunted and sweated like the pig he was. Harry bit his lip harder but couldn’t stop the silent tears that made their way down his cheek.

The next weeks followed the same routine. Vernon would come home and beat the shit out of Harry before raping him and knocking him out. He even had Dudley join in these sessions every now and then. The teenager acted like Christmas had come early every time he got to beat or rape the poor young man.

Harry had never fully appreciated the golden glow until now. He wished, desperately for it to return.

The day before Harry had to return to school, Petunia snuck down into the basement. She stood in shock and horror in front of her nephew, who was hanging by his wrists again. She rushed upstairs and twenty minutes later came back with an old sheet, a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a bottle of Iodine.

She gently cleaned and bound as many of his wounds as she could before helping him up the stairs and into the shower. An hour later and Harry was as clean as he could get and dressed in a clean pair of Dudley’s hand-me-downs. As he fell asleep in his normal bed that night, he quietly thanked Petunia.

She smiled at him sadly, “I’m so sorry, Harry. It was the least I could do for you after what Vernon did. I swear I had no idea.” a small tear slid down her cheek as she looked at the last part of her sister she had left.

“I know, Aunt Petunia. I’m pretty used to it though. He’s been beating me since I was three and raping me since I was six. I know you didn’t know, and he made sure that I wouldn’t tell you. Thank you for helping me as much as you could.” Petunia looked at him, horrified. She made her decision then, she was out of there as soon as morning came.

An hour before the sun rose, Petunia had Harry and their things in the second car and was driving away form the house on Privet Drive. She dropped Harry off at King's Cross and helped him get a trolley before telling him, “Harry, I hated your mother for being something I’m not, just as I hated you for that. Now, because of it, you’re paying a price too high. I’m so sorry for treating you as I did these last sixteen years. I wish there was something I could do to make it up to you.”

Harry hugged his aunt, causing her to stare at him in shock, “You already did, Aunt Petunia. You got me out of there and on my way to my home, Hogwarts. Don’t worry about it, I forgive you.” He hugged her once more and limped off to the barrier, sliding through, into the other side.

Petunia decided to get on the move before Vernon and Dudley came home from their ‘camping trip’. God only knows where they really were.

Harry slipped into an empty compartment at the back of the Express before trying to heal any of his injuries. He managed to heal his broken and cracked ribs and his broken ankle, but that was all. He knew His shoulder was dislocated as well as his left arm broken. His right leg as well.

He threw up a complex concealing charm before writing out orders for his new school things and robes and sending them off with a concerned Hedwig. They would arrive at his dorm room before breakfast in the morning. He lay down after throwing several locking and notice-me-not charms on the compartment door, and tried to catch up on his sleep.

When the train stopped, he grabbed a carriage and found himself face-to-face with none other than Draco Malfoy. Harry just ignored the other teen and sat down, looking out the window. “What’s wrong with you?” The concern in his voice startled Harry. He glanced over at the blond and muttered a quick, “Nothing.” before turning back to the window. Draco raised his arm to touch his shoulder, but Harry flinched violently.

A knowing light entered Draco’s eyes. “Show me.”, he demanded. Harry flinched and shook his head, “There’s nothing to show.” “Bullshit, take off the concealing charms now.” Harry was used to obeying and did so. Draco gasped, “Holy fuck!” Harry threw the charm back up and looked away. Draco studied the young man and announced, “I’ll give you three days to tell someone or I’m telling Sev-Professor Snape.” Harry glared at Draco, but remained silent the rest of the way.

When the carriage stopped, Harry got out as quickly as he could and slipped into the Great Hall and up into the Gryffindor dorms. Somehow bypassing the password. He limped in to the bathroom and took off his clothes, surveying the damage done to his body.

He had belt and whip marks crisscrossing his back too many times to count, as well as numerous cuts and bruises. Along with the broken and dislocated bones he noticed earlier, both wrists were broken as well. He could barley walk from the rawness due to his most frequent injury. He looked like he had miraculously survived a plane crash in the arctic. He obliviated the mirror and walked back in to the dorm.

The young man changed in to the ratty pajamas he had and walked over to his bed. With a large sigh and several muttered curses, Harry slipped into bed and fell into a restless sleep, filled with night mares, real and fantasy.