The saviour in need of saving

The one time the potter luck isn't lucky

Harry was scared. Even more so than the whole defeating Voldemort and near death situations he has yearly.

He knew he shouldn't be scared for so many reasons, the main one being he's used to it. For as long as he can remember this has been his life. Being hurt, beaten, starved, abused and neglected by the dursleys, being locked up in a cupboard only to come out and be a slave. Every step he took as he walked home became heavier and harder to take. It filled him with dread and uneasiness, a feeling he hasn't felt much since last summer. Yet for some reason this time around, it simply devoured him. Clouded his mind and made him tremble right down to the bone. He tried his best to keep his balance and to keep walking before it got too late. He wouldn't want that, no not at all. Especially not today, the day he came back. Luckily he shrinked his things down to fit into his pocket which helped with his balance. Closing his eyes for a few seconds Harry took in a big breath, exhaling shakily. Harry could feel it. Harry knew that something was going to happen this summer, his magic could feel it. Something of malice. Far worse than any dark lord can do. A day with the dark lord would be a walk in the park against what is to come.

Scowling Harry felt weak knowing he could do nothing about it, thought the scowl quickly turned into a frown. He knew he was weak. Down to his soul. He's too weak to even protect his friends, they're always getting hurt because of him. He's too weak to think in school, to pay attention in class over his own mind, to keep up everyone's expectations as the boy-who-lived and even as a decent student. Too weak to even gain the courage his half gryffindor self was supposed to have and tell someone about his pain. So many times he has tried going to Dumbledore, Professor Mcgonagall and even his friends yet he can't bring himself to do it. He can't say if it's completely out of fear of his relatives or for himself. Afterall who would react to the mighty boy-who-lived being so weak and pathetic to be abused by his ''relatives.'' He doubts anyone would believe him anyways. Mentally harry would love to blame his self hate on it being drilled into his head the second he was taken in but he knew he couldn't be that selfish. It was obviously his fault. He hated himself in every shape and form. He was a pathetic, weak little freak, he's surprised people can even look at him without even being repulsed. It's obvious no one actually cares for him, he doesn't blame them though. How could he? He doesn't deserve any love, family, friends. Never did he deserve happiness.

At first he had fought back against the beatings and the abuse, taking care of himself when he could and not believing their words but it slowly turned into him simply not caring about himself or anything. He had just kept quiet and took it knowing he couldn't do anything, he had lost his hope. In the end that led him to believe every insult they spewed at him, that he deserved every single beating he got, every slap, every whip, scar ,wound. He deserved to starve and make his body go through hell. To be stuffed in a small cupboard he did not fit in, to not have a family and to be forever alone. It's what he believed to be an adequate punishment for living. Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived truly believed himself to be a freakish burden that should have died that fateful night. His mind hasn't gone a second without reminding him of that.

Unfortunately Harry had not arrived on time for dinner. Not only was it a good two hour walk home but his poor frail body was in no shape to be walking let alone be quick. It had been around ten o'clock when Harry had arrived home. A time where everyone would be getting ready for bed, if not already asleep. Cautiously Harry enters through the front door as quietly as he can, making sure he doesn't make a sound. He takes a quick look around. Seeing no one he quickly starts closing and locking the door behind him but before he could turn around his head was smashed into the door. Harry yelped out in surprise followed by a hiss of pain. He didn't need to see who it was to know that it was his uncle by his harsh grip and due to the fact he could hold Harry's whole head in his hands as easily as a tennis ball.