Chapter One: The Unsuspecting Wall

Another year over. Another death brought on by his actions. Harry should've known by now that fate would never allow him the carefree existence his loving Godfather had offered. Regardless of what he should've known, it wasn't only Sirius who had perished that night in the Department of Mysteries, along with him went Harry's last bit of optimism that this world could be anything but pain, death, and deceit.

'The Savior of the Wizarding World...' he thought to himself and laughed in cruel irony as he stared at the blank walls of his cramped room. 'How can I be expected to save something so vast when I can't even protect my own family?'

Thoughts of this sort continued to fill his mind well into the night until he finally fell into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning he awoke to a livid, irate Vernon Dursley kicking his bed post in a 'kind' attempt at waking him.

"Boy!" he shouted only inches from his face, "Are you mad or just daft!"

Harry stared, feeling the question would be answered for him. Apparently he was wrong. Vernon slapped him hard across the face, "Answer the question you freak! Or do you have a death wish?"

In a flat voice, Harry replied, "I'm sorry Uncle; perhaps you could tell me what I've done so I can better answer your question?"

"Are you being smart with me boy!" Vernon yelled then grabbed Harry by the front of his shirt and pulled him off of the bed, throwing him to the floor. He then proceeded to kick Harry hard in the stomach. As he gasped for air, Vernon yelled,

"You want to know what you did!" He had a gleam in his eye, "The trash was not taken out."

He kicked Harry again.

"The dishes not washed."

Again.

"The breakfast not made."

Another kick.

"And," He dragged Harry to his feet and pulled him out into the hallway where he then slammed his face hard against the wall, Harry could feel his eye bruising.

"See anything odd here Potter?" Harry looked, "Do you!" Each sentence was accentuated by Harry's head being slammed against the wall again. He thought he heard something break.

It was then that Harry noticed the fist sized hole in the plaster of the wall. He had almost forgotten. He was so angry at life and everything in it that he had taken his anger out on the poor unsuspecting wall.

"Well!" Vernon shook him, " What do you have to say for yourself!"

"I'm sorry." Harry said, and he meant it, though more to the wall than anything. He imagined, he could relate to it. Standing there, solemn in its strength, watching everyone else live their lives, viewing indignities it could do nothing about and then suddenly it was attacked, without warning, leaving a physical and metaphorical hole. Yes, Harry could relate to the wall and for that he was sorry.

"You're damn right you're sorry! But not as sorry as you're soon going to be." Vernon was purple, Harry noted, that was never a good sign. "Fix it. Then I'll decide your punishment." He released his death grip on Harry's neck.

Harry, now hunched over and puffy faced nodded, "Yes sir."

He knew that 'light' beating would do nothing to abate his Uncle's anger. Of course not. Anything else could be considered merciful, and fate wouldn't allow that would she?

He patched up the wall in a sort of apology to his new found kin. He wondered if making an emotional link between himself and a wall was really the healthiest thing for him to do, then he figured, why not? It's not as if he had anyone else to confide in anyways. Owls had stopped bringing him letters of his friends and their lives, after his third attempt at contact ended in ever present silence, he decided to give up. He was almost sad when he finished his task. He liked having a purpose and he knew that now he would be completely at the mercy of Vernon Dursley, and Harry knew from experience, that was no mercy at all.

He walked slowly down the stairs and into the kitchen, silently coming to stand in front of his 'guardian'. Vernon seemed to study him for a moment, the look of utter detestation never leaving his face; he took in the appearance of the burden of a boy in front of him. His eyes viewed his handy work, from the bruises on his arms, to his black eye, to the still bleeding cut on his lip. Yes, Vernon had given that freak everything he had deserved all summer. Though, he was almost disappointed. The parasite would be returning to his school in a few days. He couldn't let Harry go without at least one more punishment.

"Done Boy?" Vernon squinted his beady eyes.

"Yes Uncle." Harry replied, sensing the calm before the storm.

"Show me."

Harry led Vernon up the stairs to the patched up wall. Harry wouldn't have even known there had been a hole if he hadn't fixed it himself. Vernon was displeased.

"You call that fixed! I can still bloody see the difference!" he yelled.

"I did the best I could." Harry replied monotone.

"Well then I guess this is just another instance where your best wasn't good enough." Vernon hissed, his face turning purple once more. "I think it's time you pay for what you've done." A malicious smile played on his pudgy face.

Harry stared emotionlessly. "Yes Uncle."

"On your knees you pathetic freak." Vernon commanded.

Harry knew what was coming; it was something he had grown used to, the reason for the criss-crossing of scars on his back. Vernon went to the hall closet and pulled from it a heavy leather belt. Harry kneeled, his back to his uncle and shirt pulled up.

"Thirty lashes ought to teach you some respect." Vernon growled.

Harry prepared himself for the blow but could never really get used to the pain. When the belt struck him he winced but never made a sound. Even as the metal buckle bruised his spine and left bleeding gashes, he never cried out. It was one of the only things he had to be proud of these days. This had been going on all summer yet he never sent for help. A part of him felt that no one would care, after all, Dumbledore was a smart wizard, and he had to know what was taking place. Another part of him felt that he deserved this. For all the pain he had caused and the lives he had lost. The faces of his parents, Sirius and Cedric Diggory circled his head in a sad sort of mobile. Suddenly the whipping stopped and Harry felt himself being kicked very hard in the back of the head. Too hard, he was losing consciousness.

"Get up." Vernon said sternly, but Harry couldn't. He was on the verge of passing out from blood loss, pain and a concussion.

"Get up!" His uncle yelled again, this time kicking Harry in the side.

Harry lay still on the ground, unable to lift himself but squirming to try.

"..I can't..." He said as loudly as he could which turned out to only be a strangled whisper which erupted into a coughing fit.

Vernon knelt down to his pathetic nephew and punched him full force in the face. Harry felt his nose break and blood started pouring down his face in large quantities.

"You good for nothing piece of filth! I'll make you stand!" Vernon then lifted Harry by the front of his shirt and threw him down the stairs. Harry lost consciousness then and was glad he did.