Harpy |hp

Chapter One Oddities To Normalcy

   Harpy

Harry Potter

Chapter One Oddities to Normalcy

Freak has always known his place. Always. From when he was but a babe, choking on milk from totted bottles and chewed through nipples, through childhood, spending eternities in his child's perception of time within the confines of his cupboard. He was only brought out to be useful. When Mixx Petunia needed the cooking, or cleaning, or gardening to be done. When Dudley needed batteries or wanted to 'play'. When Mr Vernon needed a drink or to relieve stress. When Freak was bad he was punished. Freak didn't even need to be bad to be punished. Freak was bad for being.

Then Freak began to do a lot of bad. Freak had gotten worse when he began to wake up growing feathers. They had been torn from his body, by the handful, by Vernon when he had found out. Freak had decided to help by plucking out new feathers whenever he could, it also hurt much less. Then he accidentally scratched Dudley, it was an accident from his nails growing and sharpening. Vernon has used pliers to rip out all of his nails, and that was only the beginning of that punishment. So when Freak had started to have pains down his back from the inside out he had hidden it. To be good. To be normal. But it was too much when Dudley, after playing a game of Harry hunting with his friends, had screamed about ", The Freak was bloody wings now Mum."

Freak is scared. He huddles as small as he can in his cupboard. Waiting for Vernon to come home. Bad. Bad. Bad. These thoughts are punctuated by pinching and plucking of feathers from his skin. Freak begins to rub at the scabs and wounds, where feathers had once been, when he can find no more of the offending plumage. The door slams and he flinches. Vernon is home. There is the clicking of heels as Petunia quickly goes to tell the news. There is no yell of rage. Freak starts to shake violently. He can't expect anything of what's going to happen. Vernon is never quiet when he's angry. Freak's teeth chatter together at the unlocking of his cupboard door.

"Vern dear, make sure to take it to the kitchen. I don't need his filth and blood on my rugs. Me and Dudley are going out." Petunia excuses herself and her son quickly. Vernon grabs a hold of Freak's hair and nearly pulls it out with how much force he uses to drag Freak into the kitchen and throw Freak to the floor. Freak has to muffle a cry of pain as he lands awkwardly on one of his newly formed wings. Vernon simply stands over him with a glare for a moment. "Take off your shirt." These words are barely whispered and Freak is still shaking from fear as he clumsily tries to pull the shirt over his head. A foot is planted firmly into his back, between the weakened wings, and shoves him painfully to the floor.

"What has been said about freakish things like this?" Vernon is still quiet and Freak stumbles to answer. "Nnnot su-supposed to." The foot grinds into his back and his arms are painfully trapped under him. There are no more words. A large meaty hand grabs a hold of one of his wings and yanks backwards. A screech colors the air as the joints are all dislocated and tendons are quickly torn. Two hands grab a hold of one of his wings and the other flaps panickedly. Pulls and clawing and tearing. The wing is separated from the body to the chorus of howls from the child.

Blood pools and the bone that connects the wings properly to the body is exposed like a pearl within a sea of red. The nest wing is grabbed. It is not spared from the same treatment. Which one is worse. The initial pain of the wing. Or the second wing being taken away in such a brutal manner with the harmony of the other opened wound. These thoughts are what keeps freak to his little sanity. Saliva, sweat, and blood pool to the unforgiving tiles. The deed is done. Delirious and broken thoughts flood Freak's mind. One passes his lips. "Happy birthday to me." It cracks along overused vocal chords. Darkness floods Freak's vision. The pain still follows him within his sleep.