Enjoy the Silence | TM/HP

Chapter One: Why do I put up with this?

!Not particularly graphic abuse and mentions of injury!

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Most people who knew Harry Potter thought of him as someone to either look up to or look down on. The exceptions to that rule were his two best friends, but even they had a fixed image of him that they couldn't really bring themselves to look past.

It comes as no surprise then that most people who knew about his living situation didn't really believe him, however annoying that was. Because how could the great Harry Potter, saviour of the 'Light', as they liked to call themselves, be treated like anyone other than royalty?

Like this you fucking idiots - These were the thoughts in Harry's head as his dear uncle sent a fist flying into his ribcage, making the boy double over in pain and shock. 

He had been expecting the hit, sure, but still couldn't understand how someone could get so pissed over nothing. And it really was nothing, because uncle Vernon was currently beating him to a pulp because Harry hadn't gotten up ten minutes before he was supposed to. Yeah. Ten minutes. Before the actual time limit he had. 

Fifteen minutes later, when Vernon was finally done, Harry rubbed at his dripping red nose with the back of his hand. The sight of blood had probably made his uncle sober up a bit, Harry supposed, because the man had stopped when he saw the stream of fluid on his nephews' face. Although really, it was probably because the asshole was too hungover to stand up for longer. This theory was proved when he heard the sound of vomiting coming from the downstairs toilet. 

"Why do I even put up with this?" Harry grumbled as he heaved himself off the floor. And it was bloody good question too. He'd heard of situations at Hogwarts where kids had come to their heads of houses and told them about abusive family members. All of those kids had been permitted to stay at the castle over holidays, and were supported financially by the school during their first year of adult life.

When Harry had told Dumbledore about it though, he'd gotten a pat on the back and a half hearted 'they're your family Harry, everyone knows they love you'. But really, who did know? He'd let slip in fourth year that he wasn't looking forward to going home for the summer when being interrogated by Rita Skeeter and that had resulted in a front page article about him being the victim of a violently abusive household, which absolutely no-one older than thirteen believed. As he had read through the article though, he'd been tempted to laugh because of how accurate it was. 

So yeah, he was stuck here until he turned seventeen. Unless...

Unless he ran away. 

-

The thought had been stewing in him for years now, and Harry pondered it over the next few days, it grew more and more inviting. He knew now that he couldn't go to Diagon Alley, unless he found a way to wandlessly cast a glamour, which he doubted he could do. For a couple minutes he thought about using his broom to get to Ron's house, but that was crossed out when he saw a plane the following day and realised that if anyone noticed him, which was a likely scenario, he'd be put in the news and then the ministry would find out. He really didn't want that.

So really, his best bet was to just take everything he owned and go wherever the wind took him. It sounded crazy, but anything was better than staying in the hellhole he was in now. Still, there was a lot of planning to do. 

-

A lot of planning later, Harry still had no idea how to go around running the fuck away. Why has it changed from just running away, you might ask? Well, Harry had had a pretty good plan, but that was changed when Dudley had cracked one of his ribs. Petunia, being the only one in the family with some semblance of brain, however little that might be, had insisted he stay in his room for the next two days.