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Author's Chapter Notes:
This is written for fun. I hope you enjoy it! And PLEASE REVIEW!!

Disclaimer: I am not JKROWLING OR J.R.R.TOLKIEN and do not own Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings to my eternal displeasure.

The Fun Begins

Harry sighed as he trudged up the path towards the dreaded 4 Privet Drive. 'It should have a sign on the doorstep', Harry thought idly, ‘LEAVE ALL HOPE AND HAPPINESS HERE!’ or ‘WELCOME TO THE 10TH CIRCLE OF HELL’. Both would describe this hellish place aptly. But at least it was his last summer here, and he only had to stay for four weeks. Four agonizingly long weeks until he turned seventeen.

Get in boy.” Uncle Vernon snarled, spittle flying from his large beefy mouth. “I’ve got a bone to pick with you.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at his uncle, but obediently went into the house of horrors. “What's the problem uncle?” Harry asked falsely politely, once he was inside the bland living room.

His uncle whirled on him, grabbing his collar viciously, throwing him against the wall so quickly and hard Harry's teeth rattled and his head connected with the hard stone, leaving him seeing stars for a moment.

HOW DARE YOU TAKE THAT INSOLENT TONE WITH ME BOY!” His uncle roared, spit flying into Harry's face that smelt faintly of alcohol, as his ugly face turned a puce that matched his plum coloured shirt. “YOU SEE, THIS IS THE EXACT REASON WHY I DIDN'T WANT YOU TO GO TO THAT SCHOOL! But I let you go, without a word of complaint.”

Despite the circumstances, Harry had to smirk at that, fortunately, his uncle didn't see, and continued his rant.

And now, you feel that you can invite your...your... your KIND! Into my home. Do you know what's happened since that...that man came here? Do you? I lost my job! It's all your fault! And now you dare to be insolent with me after you made me lose my job? I'm going to teach you a lesson boy. A lesson you won't forget. I'm going to beat it out of you, like I should have done a long time ago. Better late than never I say.” Vernon hissed as he unbuckled his belt.


Harry struggled to sit up on the mattress he was laying on in the cupboard under the stairs, but it was hard because of the pain lacing through his body. He knew left arm was broken, he had heard that snap along with his fingers and toes and was pretty sure at least three or four of his ribs were broken of fractured, judging how hard it was to breathe, amongst all the other injuries he had sustained.

The recent development in the house of horrors was one that he did not like at all.

His uncle seemed determined to beat the magic out of him and teach him a lesson as he had once vowed to do. Sure, he was used to the occasional slap around the head, or a frying pan whacking him somewhere on his anatomy, but this, this was torture, and it was beginning to come clear to him that the amount of pain that could be inflicted was only limited by the human imagination.

Somewhere in the process of his uncle getting a pair of pliers and taking it to his little fingernail to rip it out, he had become peacefully unconscious. These four weeks were going to be the longest four weeks of his entire life.


Thankfully, those four weeks did pass....eventually. A lot could happen in four weeks. In four weeks Harry Potter had become unrecognizable to look at. He was stones lighter than when he left school for the summer. His body was a spectrum of yellow, green, purple, blue and black. His cheeks were hollow and gaunt. His eyes were the scariest thing though. The vibrant green had become a dull, lifeless green. They looked sunken and haunted – more so than they ever had been, even after Sirius and Dumbledore had died. They looked like the enormous wounds of a child who had seen far too much, endured too much, and had finally given up.

Only, Harry hadn't given up, not quite, at least he hadn't given up in his subconscious. He was too stubborn to let some huge lump of lard steal his life, steal his happiness. In his conscious though, Harry was wishing he was dead, he had given up counting down the days till he could leave this place some time in the first week of torture, some time after his uncle had scraped sandpaper down his bloody back, removing all the skin. Some time after his magic had stopped healing him because his conscious had given up.

The days and nights were one constant blur, Harry had been confined in the Cupboard under the Stairs blindfolded until he could no longer decipher one from the other, and Harry no longer cared what day it was, what did it matter? He was only getting one step closer to death with each passing moment.

Unbeknown to Harry time was ticking till he would leave this place, a countdown until his birthday, only ten seconds left.

Little things began changing around him, a silver glowing began expanding beneath his feet, with only seconds to go, until at midnight exactly, the rippling silver grew until it was surrounding him completely, though he did not notice it and jerked him back so he woke from the agony.

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