Chapter Text
Harry Potter, the-boy-who-lived, stood on the floor of his bedroom blankly staring at a wall. The sounds of cars passing once every few minutes and the loud noises coming from the TV downstairs could be barely heard under the sound of loud buzzing and quiet whispers ringing in his ears. Hedwig threw a tiny stick at Harry, snapping him back to reality. He still stood still, but he was now aware of the noises and objects around him. He caught a glimpse of a crimson red liquid splattered onto the cement floor. Some was dry, and some was still shining under the sunlight.
Suddenly, Harry jumps up, feeling enormous amounts of pain. He tried to pinpoint the exact location of the pain, yet he couldn't. His whole body hurt. It felt as if somebody used an extra sharp fork to turn all his muscles and organs into what best could be described as pulled pork. The part which hurt most was his big toe. He looked at it, and soon noticed somsthing disturbing. His nail was missing.
Instead of the whitish-beige, hard nail that should be on the top of his toe was a nail-shaped patch of fresh meat, blood and a bunch of salt. Then he remembered.
Flashback-The previous night
Harry was cooking dinner for the fat pigs he called family. When preparing the table, he accidentally dropped a glass of water onto the floor, making it shatter on impact. Vernon was livid. His head was purple, veins popping out of his forehead and neck. His eyes were wide and his eyebrows were furrowed. His teeth were clenched so hard you could crush a diamond between them. Horrified, Harry rushed to bick up the glass shards but he accidentally cut his finger, making a singular drop of blood fall onto the floor. When he saw that, Vernon snapped. He kicked the boy so hard he flew into the wall. Then, Vernon took a handful of shards and threw them at Harry. One landed in his eye. His eyes started watering and a mix of blood and tears streabed down his face. That made the fat man even angrier, so he took Harry upstairs and threw him in his bedroom. He started beating him up, kicking his vital organs and stomping on his frail legs and arms. Then, he took a pair of pliers and tried to pull out Harry's toenail. After about a minute, he succeeded. Vernon took about a handful of salt and glass shards from the kitchen and started sprinkling it onto Harry's open wounds. He ended the night by carving "worthless" on his back using a box cutter.
-end of flashback-
Harry stood still for a few more minutes. He was glad that in about a week he'd go to Hogwarts again. He dreaded the day something would go wrong this year, but he tried not to think about what could happen.
Ey, Harry, ya know why this shit keeps happenin' to ya? Why everyone keeps dying?
....
Harry tried to ignore the voice, but it continued.
Listen here freak, yer cursed. It's ya fault that they're dead. Why don'cha do everyone a favour and kill yerself? It'd be better for 'em!
Harry tried not to listen, but he knew what the voice said was true. Every person he has ever held dear has died. He doesn't wish that fate for the Weasley's (which are like a family to him) and he doesnt wish to kill Hermione either. That's why he'll start ignoring them. He'll act bratty and disrespectful and wait for everyone to hate him. Then, when nobody cares anymore, he'll be able to kill himself. Yes. That was a great idea.
Yer finally understood what'cha need to do, good god, that took long enough kid.
Bravo!! You finally understood that you're worthless!
Finally, the waste of space understands it's purpose! You're almost making me proud! ALMOST.
The voices in his head ,which sounded like more eerie versions of the people he killed, kept yapping about how he should follow his plan and how great that idea is. Other unfamiliar voices just kept repeating "kill yourself" , "you are an ugly waste of space", "freak, brat, slave, whore, slut, coward, crybaby" and other insults over and over again.
He ignored the voices. They were starting to get annoying. Couldn't they at least be more original?!
Harry was starting to get annoyed, but a sharp pain where his toenail used to be snapped him back to reality. He sighed, then ripped a piece of cloth from his unusually large shirt and wrapped it around the wound. Then, he limped to his desk and sat down. He opened a drawer and grabbed a shiny razor and some bandages, which he got from Hogwarts.
Honestly, Harry didn't really need bandages. Everytime he harmed himself, his cuts healed themselves in about 2-3 minutes after being made. This was probably due to his magic trying to help him from not getting infected. Either way, he still used the bandages to hide the scars. The magic could only close the cut, but no heal the scar, so Harry still had a bunch of pink, white and purple scars littered around his arms.
Cutting seemed to help him with the voices. It's not as if they made him cry, or hurt him severely. At first, he did indeed cry since he didn't know where the voices came from. He was scared. He tought he was possessed. Bun now, he has gotten used to them and they were just annoying. Like a fly buzzing around his brain. Cutting himself was like catching and killing the fly using a fly swatter.
He looked at his arm. It was bruised, scarred, broken in several places then healed incorrectly and it had red, irritated marks all over. He quickly found a less hurt spot and started cutting.
One, two, three, four , five........
Twelve, thirteen, fourteen.. sixteen?
...................
Twenty-two...
.....
Thirty-five....
........
Fuck, he lost count.
If he had to guess, he'd say about 30-50 cuts on each arm.
He watched the warm, comforting , red liquid pouring out of his arms onto the desk. He kept looking at the scars until they slowly stopped bleeding. That's one of the many things he liked yet hated at the same time about having magic. He couldn't accidentally die from cutting, but the downside was that when he actually wanted to die he couldn't.
Flashback- 5 years ago, Harry was 10
Harry sat in the corner of his cupboard, looking at the knife in his hand. He was shaking and sobbing.
Harry was tired.
Tired of the way the Dursleys treated him.
Tired of the way he was treated at school.
Tired of the voices mocking him.
Tired of being constantly abused.
Tired of all the pain and misery.
Tired of how even he hated himself.
Harry heard at school of a kid's cousin who committed suicide by cutting their wrists. They had cut along their vein and quickly bled out. Harry tought that would be the best way to go out. He wouldn't be able to rest peacefully if his whale of an uncle killed him . At least he wouldn't give Vernon the satisfaction of copletely ruining him.
He put the knife up his wrist and started slicing his veins. Every vein he could see. On each arm. It hurt. But it hurt good. The voices were now quiet. There was absolutely no noise other than Vernon's occasional snores. Maybe the voices were too stunned to speak. Perhaps they were satisfied and didn't feel the need to speak anymore? Or maybe Harry's brain was just too concentrated on trying to stop him from bleeding out to be able to also concentrate on making itself hear voices.
Either way, Harry was happy. He'll finally be free. Maybe he'll meet his parents in the afterlife. Or maybe he will simply cease to exist. Either way, he would be able to escape all of this pain. Harry made a few more cuts , just because they felt good. He soon started seeing black and everything was silent. The next second , or what felt like one, he woke up in his room. The morning light was seeping through the vent the Dursleys put on his door so their slave wouldn't suffocate and die.
Harry started sobbing and whimpering.
"Why can't I do anything right, why am i such a fucking failure!?.... I can't even kill myself right.." , Harry tought.
He looked at his arms and the only sign of last night being real was a few long lines plastered on his wrists, along with a bunch of smaller scars scattered along his arm.
He then got interrupted from crying by his aunt Petunia walking down the stairs.
-end of flashback-
Harry looked back at his cuts, which were now white and pink scars. He grabbed the bandages and wrapped them loosely around his arm- loose enough to be comfortable and not stop his circulation, but not loose enough to fall off.
He took a cloth and cleaned the puddle of blood from his desk, then cleaned his razor and put it back in it's drawer, along with the bandages.
He limped to his bed and fell onto it. He was exhausted, and the day barely started. Which reminds him, he would need to start his chores soon. Luckily, he was passed out when it was time to cook breakfast, so he could pretend that he was still passed out.
He laid in his bed for a good ten minutes just staring at the cieling, when he heard heavy footsteps stomping up the stairs. He shuffled to the same place he woke up in and closed his eyes, making his body as limp as he could.
His door burst open and vernon came in. At least, thats what Harry guessed based on the footsteps. He heard Vernon getting closer to him. Suddenly, he could hear a zipper opening. "SHIT, WHAT IS HE DOING?!" Harry tought, but cuickly got interrupted by something being shoved down his throat. Harry was agitated and very confused, when he suddenly realised. He was getting raped by his uncle.
Harry's instincts almost made him push Vernon away and run outside, but he realised that if he fought back he'd probably get beaten until he couldnt move anymore , and if he gave him the slightest hint that he was awake Vernon would probably fuck him harder just to make him suffer. So he decided to continue pretending to be passed out and wait for everything to be over.
His toughts were stopped when Vernon threw him onto his bed and turned him face down.
"oh no, nonononononononono.. shit... please don't.. no... no no.. n-" , Harry said inside his head, but was interrupted by Vernon entering his small and fragile body.
It hurt. it hurt so , so much...
but Harry couldn't do anything about it, other than wishing he was dead at that moment.
Vernon's pace got faster and faster. He gruntead and breathed heavily. Harry felt his intestines being stretched out. It felt horrible. Luckily, since the whale like man was so heavy, he got tired after about 15 minutes. Who could have known what misery he would have put Harry trough if he was more fit? Merlin only knows..
Vernon pulled out and cummed all over Harry's back, sighing with pleasure. He then stomped out the door and shut it behing him.
The second Vernon arrived downstairs and started watching TV again, Harry started crying. He realised that Vernon has probably raped him multiple times while he was unconscious. Oh god, who knew when he started..?
Suddenly, Harry remembered the first time he got raped. He was 6 and he just got home from school. He came home with an A+. He hoped his family would finally love him if he got a good grade. Dursley got a C- and Vernon was pissed that Harry had a higher score, so he beat him up and then, when harry couldn't scream anymore, Vernon started raping him.
Somehow, he couldnt remember that before, and he was angry at himself for not remembering. How could he forget something so fucking horrible? Did he like it? Is that why? "I'm such a fucking slut. I'm disgusting. I'm a whore. It was all my fault. If only i didn't study that day.... I'm so worthless. I'm just a toy for that bastard...
God, I'm.. I'm a horrible human being."
Harry tought, still crying his heart out. Sooner or later, he'll run out of tears, so he better cry while he can.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
After a few more hours of crying, Harry had to think about how he should kill himself. He has tried slicing his wrists before, stabbing his stomach, cutting his neck, dangerous potions and poison, but his magic saved him every time. He then had an idea. What if he jumped off the Astronomy tower? His magic surely couldn't save him if he was a puddle of flesh, bashed bones and brains seeping out his cracked head. The only way he could be saved would be by someone on a broomstick or someone with a floating spell, but he was sure he'd find time to kill himself without anyone nearby..
He just had to wait to go to Hogwarts. Luckily, school started in about a week.