Broken | Book 1

Chapter I: Broken

Harry knew at once that he had gone too far, at least where his Muggle relatives were concerned.

Marge didn't seem to have learnt her lesson from roughly a year ago, and had come back, this time along with her whole hoard of dogs, and worse still, painful insults.

The first thing she had done upon her arrival was to get Harry sent back to the cupboard under the stairs, while her dogs took up the room he had been living in.

Protests that he no longer fit in there, that it was no longer supported by any form of light, that it was too cramped and small - not a single one of his pleas were heard. They all fell not on deaf ears, but uncaring ones.

In the end, Vernon had punched him straight in the face, nearly knocking out a tooth, breaking his nose in the process. He was sent reeling backwards, losing his balance as the back of his head connected sharply with corner of the kitchen counter. He felt pain explode, and darkness simmered blissfully before him for a second, before he was snatched back to reality.

Vernon and Dudley were punching every inch of him they could reach, and it didn't help that his limbs had turned seemingly to lead, he felt weak, useless and helpless as they beat him to within an inch of his life.

Pride and rebellion filled him, as he thought of his father, hadn't he blown Marge up once? Well, he didn't care what happened. He was a wizard, and if they couldn't deal with it, that was their loss, not his. He had decided, right from the moment he had been convinced of Sirius' innocence, that he would never be cowed by them ever again.

"You have no say in where you will be staying in this house!" Vernon screeched after what seemed like years of torture. "Now apologise, you dirty little slut!"

Harry despised that word. It brought back reminders, memories of how exactly that word being directed at him became so commonplace. It reminded him of a seven-year-old who had been stripped brutally, against his will, of his innocence.

It was so easy to hate these people. His uncle, who had never cared, the bane of his existence, the reason for all of his fears. His aunt, related to him by blood, who had similarly used him for her own filthy sexual desires, and basked when he was punished. His cousin, who followed every bloody act committed by his parents if not more. And this... This hateful woman who didn't seem to be find enough satisfaction in just insulting him, but extended it to his parents with no real basis for any of her bullcrap.

"No."

It was so easy to deny them. He almost smiled as all four of them fell upon him with a vengeance, eight beady eyes glinting. It would be a relief to just die. Sirius need never be burdened with a mess of a person like he was. And Remus would never have anything to hurt him. He wasn't blind. He had seen the way Remus' expression always became slightly darker when he saw Harry. It wasn't like Dumbledore cared, not that he was unaware, but he chose to ignore it. Ron and Hermione would probably recognise their feelings for each other if he and his trouble inviting tendencies weren't there. And the Weasleys wouldn't feel obliged to look after him and fuss over his state.

He felt a metal buckle whip against his face and let out an involuntary gasp. The next blow of the heavy metal shattered his glasses, some of the finer pieces of dust blown into his eyes, making them water and bleed simultaneously, his vision blurring and marred with red splotches. He lost count of the number of times the belt, both leather and metal, came into contact with his body: his face, hands, arms, legs and torso invariably. So far, though, he was still fairly sure that only Vernon had been doling out the punishments. The two women and his cousin were only screaming profanities, which he hadn't even registered properly.

Soon, though, things quickly took a turn for the worse. Harry had never not responded to the torture, and it was infuriating them.

He was pretty sure that the kicks and punches were from Dudley, while Vernon kept on cutting open his flesh with that horror of a belt. Gritting his teeth, Harry forced himself to stay strong. He felt a slight relief when the belt's administrations were stopped for a minute, but the words he heard made his blood run cold.