𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 . »𝐝𝐦 𝐱 𝐡𝐩«

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒏𝒆- 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒚

𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐯:

   a sigh escapes my lips as i watch my- rather infuriated- uncle storm into my cramped room. i had silently hoped that he would forget how to undo one of the locks, but it seems nothing is ever in my favor.

"oh, you've done it this time boy!" he bellows from the doorway. i suppose i was caught up trying to remember how many times i've 'done it' this summer when i'm suddenly slammed into the nearest wall.

vernon stands above me, eyes of poison burning into mine and double chin on full desplay, "i told you to stay quiet! that blasted owl of yours never shuts up! you little.."

he continues talking, but his voice seems to drown out under the sound of the pounding in my ears- or maybe thats my own heartbeat. the world suddenly comes to a stop as i feel a harsh pain to my stomach. i can see vernon's large fists pound into me, but i can't hear anything. matter of fact, i can hardly feel either. everything comes in a sort of haze. i can see his fists and i can- sort of- feel the stinging, but nothing seems to register in my head.

i don't scream- i can't let him have that satisfaction. the ringing in my ears becomes louder, and more apparent. i realize this could be the last time. the last time i have to see the world, the last time i have to see this room, the last time i have to take a breath. a small feeling of relief washes over me- and for a second i don't want to feel anymore. i don't want to feel the burden of walking this earth, or living.

but then i realize: I'm harry bloody potter, and nothing ever goes my way. with that thought i let out the loudest, most blood curling scream i can muster through my weak body, and watch vernon's round face twist into a sickening smirk.

he walks off, satisfied with his work, giving me time to heave in breaths of air. the pain in my body suddenly returns, and i roll to my side, wincing at the sharp sting in my waist. my eyes focus on the small alarm clock on my desk: 11:56 p.m.

what day is it, again? i ask myself, remembering mcgonagall had sent out letters inviting students back to make up for the war.

i squint, trying to look at the date on the clock, slightly reading the words 'july 30'. i feel a slight twitch of my mouth. "well, happy birthday to me" i grumble, watching as the red light switches from 11:59 to 12:00 a.m.

those words are followed by a sharp stab to my back and a loud scream as the world goes black and i get sucked into the darkness.

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