The Embrace of Madness

Summary: Being abused growing up, Harry was truthfully fearing for his life, and when his uncle began to whip him harshly and beat him one day, he nearly gave up hope. He wanted for someone, anyone, to come. When his prayer is answered, he finds himself starting to teeter and wonder...if he should give in to the madness.

Prologue: Art Thou My Master?

Six year old Harry James Potter was shaking in fear as he lay curled up in his small room, the only place in the entire house of number Four Privet Drive he could get his privacy. The place called 'The Cupboard under the Stairs.' The conditions of the Cupboard were filthy, and Harry was forced to clean them if he wanted the place liveable. The blankets were often dusty after a day or two, and the light bulb swung back and forth slowly every time someone walked down the stairs.

Why was he shaking in fear one might ask? That would be because of the people Harry did not affectionately refer to as his relatives. More specifically, because of his Uncle.

The day had started off normal enough. Harry had woken up at seven o'clock, and quickly made himself presentable before he hurried out of his small cupboard, and began to cook breakfast for everyone, using a small step ladder to help him reach the stove so he could do so. It didn't matter if he burned himself or got hurt, he was not to whine or complain even a little bit, or he would be punished. And if there was one thing Harry didn't want to happen to him, he didn't want to get punished. He never knew just how he would be punished. If he were lucky, he would go the rest of the day without eating. If he were unlucky, then his uncle would resort to physical violence, and that was something Harry dreaded even the thought of.

And so, the boy cooked quietly. And half an hour later when everything was readily cooked, everyone came downstairs to eat. His uncle, Vernon, sat at the table first, along with Petunia. Dudley came downstairs not long after, and the look in his eyes just told Harry that it was once again going to be rubbed in his face how much better a life Dudley had than him.

Once everyone was downstairs, Harry was quick to set all the food on the table, and then hurried back to the stove to cook more. He absent-mindedly listened to the conversation his uncle was having with his aunt, but for the most part he did his best to not eavesdrop. He'd gotten in trouble for lesser things, and nearly shuddered at the thought of what would happen if he was found to be eavesdropping on conversations that he had no business listening to.

"Boy!" Vernon called, and Harry quickly looked at him, not wasting a single second, though he kept an eye on the cooking food. "We are going out today, and nobody else is able to deal with you since they are all busy. You will stay in the house and do your chores. You will not do anything bad, otherwise you will be severely punished. Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry said softly, quickly grabbing the now cooked bacon and walking over, putting more Bacon onto the plates of the three, before he headed back to the stove and began to turn everything off as he spotted the time. When going out, the family had always left at half past eight sharp, and it was currently three minutes before then, so there was no longer a point in Harry cooking any more.

He quietly walked to the table, where his list of chores were waiting, as the Dursley's began to rise and leave the house, locking the front door behind them. Of course, they left the back door unlocked as Harry did have to do the gardening, but they knew he wouldn't leave the house without their say so. He was too afraid to do so, something both Harry and the Dursley's knew very well. And yet, there was nothing Harry could do about it.

The orphaned boy sighed light to himself, before he began to read off what chores he had today. He had to weed the garden, clean the living room, and a few other things. Truthfully, these were far more reasonable than the usual tasks he was given. Usually he had to do some very difficult things that were guaranteed to get him punish, like clear Dudley's second room of some of his broken toys by putting them into the attic. Sadly, he couldn't reach the attic, he was too small. The step ladder did nothing to help either. And the actual ladder? It was in the garden shed, and he wasn't allowed in there. So of course, he'd get beaten for not being able to fulfil the task he was given. And if he did fulfill the task, he would be beaten harshly for going somewhere he wasn't supposed to go.

And so, Harry began his chores. He weeded the garden. He cleaned the living room. He took out the trash. He cleaned the kitchen. He washed up their clothes. He washed the bed sheets. He hung them all out to dry. And then once- and only once- his chores were all done, he checked on the time.

Noting that was nearly half past five, he quickly set about cooking dinner. The Dursley's would likely return at ten minutes to six o'clock sharp, and would expect dinner to be completely ready to serve by the time the clock hit the hour. He started half an hour before then to make sure he had sufficient time to cook the meal.

However, it was only once the meal was finished, that things started to turn to something bad.

At some point, while Harry hadn't being paying attention, Petunia had busted out some wine. Normally this wouldn't be an issue, but it was a very strong wine, and Vernon Dursley was a lightweight. It didn't take much to get him drunk. And with the strength of the wine his wife gave him, he was gone after a single glass.

That was when the beating began. Out of the blue, Harry found himself grabbed and bent over the couch. He stuttered, asking what he'd done wrong. He didn't receive an answer as Vernon took out the belt, tore off Harry's shirt, and began to whip him, roaring about how 'he should be grateful he was wasting his time on a freak like him.'

Harry could only cry and beg for it to stop, but it didn't. Why? Why didn't it stop? He'd done all his chores, cooked dinner, and even stayed out of the way and their view, since he knew they didn't enjoy seeing him at all. So why? Why was he being beaten like this?

He didn't receive an answer as the whip slapped on his back one final time, before Vernon finally stopped. Harry fell to the ground and curled up in the fetal position, sobbing quietly into his knees. He wasn't even allowed to do that, as he found himself grabbed by the neck, getting roughly thrown into his cupboard, and told he wouldn't be receiving any dinner.

He heard a few clicks, indicating the door had been locked from the outside, and that he was once again trapped in the prison of the cupboard…or now, the sanctuary of it.

Harry cried and sobbed into his knees, shaking in fear for what was to possibly come to him next. Had he not suffered enough at their hands? Had he not given everything he had, even though they were the vilest of people? Hadn't he earned something good for once in his life?

It was then that Harry felt a familiar emotion, and a pulse ran throughout the house. The pulse was unseen, unfelt, and unknown by all the residents of the place. The only thing Harry knew, was that one emotion ruled him. One emotion was filling his entire being.

Rage.

That was right. Why should he suffer? Why should he need to suffer thanks to his 'family!?' He didn't deserve this! He deserved better, to be treated better! To be acknowledged as someone who wasn't worthless, who wasn't called a freak!

Another pulse ran through the house, once again going unnoticed.

He deserved better! He deserved a proper family! He wanted them to suffer for doing this to him! For rejecting him! He wanted them…them all to die!

"If anybody out there can hear me," he whispered, voice hoarse from crying. "Then please come…and kill those bastards for what they've done to me!"

The third pulse came…and with it, Harry's hope.

Light filled the cupboard under the stairs, shining brightly, as if it were the light of god itself. Abruptly, the door was blasted off its hinges, causing Harry and the three Dursley's to yell in surprise as the light just grew brighter, and brighter.

The light faded, and a figure now stood in place just outside of the cupboard. Their physical features couldn't be seen, as the entirety of their body was clad in black armour, with crimson lines running along it and an odd symbol of sorts residing on their chest. At their waist was two sheaths, one for either of the figure's two swords.

"I have come from across time and space to answer your calling," the figure spoke, their head turning to Harry. "I am Servant Berserker. And I ask of you, art thou my Master?"

"You!" Vernon roared out, his face turning red as he glared at Harry from the dining room. Said young boy was curled up still and shaking in fear of what was about to happen to him. "You did this, you little freak! I'm going to make you wish you were never born!" Vernon got up and began to rush towards the Cupboard…

…only for his head to fly off his body and land in Petunia's plate.

It happened so fast that nobody reacted for a few seconds. One moment, Vernon was rushing to the cupboard. The next, the warrior was holding their sword, and Vernon's next was soaring across the room before it landed in Petunia's plate.

Even Vernon's body seemed to need a moment to catch up with what happened. It continued to run, now headless, for a second…before it fell to the ground, completely immobile as blood poured from the head wound.

There was silence…before Petunia and Dudley screamed out in fear as the events of what just happened caught up with them.

"So noisy…" the knight drawled out, beginning to march towards the mother and child, who grasped in each and began to shake in fear as the knight approached. "Just die," they said coldly, swinging their sword and decapitating both Petunia and Dudley Dursley. Unlike Vernon's head, their own fell to the ground in a thumb, bodies slumping as blood spurted out…never to move again.

Harry slowly looked up; he was partially in shock and disbelief, and partially in joy. Part of him though this must have just been a wonderful dream, where his wish finally came true. But he knew it wasn't a dream. He didn't hurt so much in his dream, and he could still feel the pain on his back from when Vernon whipped him.

The knight slowly turned back towards him, and Harry finally got a good look at their sword. It was a weapon more dazzling than any silver, sparkling and adorned with splendid decorations. It was the kind of sword a Ruler might wield, to show proof of their Kingship.

He was snapped out of his thoughts as the knight marched over and crouched down. Even though he couldn't see the knight's eyes, he could feel them staring straight into his own. "With all the interruptions out of the way, I ask you once again. Art thou my Master?"

"Y…yes…" Harry croaked out. He didn't know why, but for some reason…he just knew. He knew it in his heart and soul, he was this knight's master.

"…And so, you are," the knight agreed. Their helmet made an odd creaking sound, before it split, and began to break into smaller pieces that became part of the knight's armour. And so, Harry got his first look at the face of the Knight.

Beautiful.

That was the only word he could think of to describe her. She had blonde hair with braids running along either side that merged into her pony tail. Her skin was beautifully pale, as if she never saw the sun, hidden by her armour. And her eyes were a smouldering, gorgeous gold.

Her face suddenly broke into a grin, showing her teeth were a bit sharper than a normal person's. "What's your name, master?"

"H-Harry…Potter…n-nice to meet you…" his voice was barely above a whisper.

"I am Mordred Pendragon, King of Camelot. It's nice to meet you too, Master."

It was on that day, fate was forever changed. All thanks to one small thing that anyone else would see as insignificant:

Harry Potter had his first friend.