Dicalmer: I don't own any thing here. Except something that I might make up. (unlikely)

A Harry Story

Harry gasped sitting up right. As soon as he did the pain exploded in the back of his head. He tried to bring his hand up but it weighted a ton. Harry looked down. There attached to his hand was a metal cuff. He glanced at his other arm-same thing. Oh man, Harry thought, what did I do to deserve this? He tried to think back to what happened but suddenly the pain was back. It would be no use to do anything at the moment.

So Harry relaxed against the wall taking in his surroundings. The room was a cell, surprise, surprise. Probably could fit five people in comfortably. Though there were mold on the walls, water dripping in the opposite corner, and the stench smelled like a rotting corpse that a skunk had sprayed. Harry almost gagged.

Harry tried to ignore the pain so he could find a way out. A thought dawned on him; his wand. He grabbed his pants pockets--nothing. "Shit." He examined the cuff links again. They looked fairly old, rusted even. He yanked at one only resulting in cutting his wrists up more. The cuffs were more sharp than he realized.

Harry gave up. He was so weak. Uncle Vernon told him enough times. He drew his legs up against his chest and wrapped his arms around them, as far as his chains would let him, and dropped his throbbing head down on his knees. He didn't know how long he sat there, but suddenly there was a faint sound of footsteps coming down the corridor outside his cell. Harry scooted as far into the wall as he could go. The footsteps stopped in front of his door. Harry gasped, he hoped he would be invisible. Suddenly he remember a time like this...

Harry was about eight at the time. Harry had accidentally knocked the pan of eggs to the ground when Uncle Vernon was yelling at him for doing the bacon wrong minutes before. He jumped away from the stove looking at the mess he had just caused. He was shaking like a leaf as he slowly looked up at his uncle.

Purple with rage, Harry's uncle lunged at his nephew determined to wring his little neck until there was nothing left in it. Harry was quick though for being so small, dodged and raced to the only thing that was his; the cupboard. He yanked the door open and drew himself up in the corner wishing he wouldn't be seen, wouldn't be heard, wouldn't be punished. Not a minute later his uncle wrenched the door off it's hinges and peered in the cupboard. His small beady eyes scanned the little cupboard. His gaze stopped in the corner where Harry was hiding. Harry held his breathe. His uncle backed out of the cupboard and started swearing up at storm.

"When I find him there will be hell to pay. He made me ruin the door and he ruined my family's breakfast. That little shit won't wake up for weeks." ...

A door materialized out of nowhere. In stepped in three people. Harry couldn't make out any features but he could feel a dark aura about them. "Well, well, well look who's awake. To bad. It would have been fun to beat him awake." It was a very familiar voice.

Harry picked his head up. He glared at the person. "You" he said in a furious growl. "are pathetic. The only reason Voldemort keeps you alive at all is so he can have someone to warm his bed at night. Otherwise he would dispose of you like he did his muggle father. He--"

The young man pulled out his wand and cast a curse. "Curcio"

Hot white knifes stabbing every inch of his skin. He felt like he was being burned alive his organs being ripped out one by one. He felt his sanity slowly being sucked down the tube and insanity waiting at the gate to greet him.

"Stop, this at once! Our Lord wants him live and well. As well as sane. I wouldn't mind but we don't want to keep our Lord waiting. We all would be worse off then him."