The saviour in need of saving

The one time the potter luck isn't lucky

''Where the hell have you been you freak!!'' Uncle Vernon sneered.

''Sor-'' He was cut off as his head was repeatedly smashed against the door again. He could feel the blood start to drip and a migraine come on

''Since your worthless self couldn't do one simple thing right we had to make dinner ourselves. Not only that, you missed all of your daily chores boy! We do everything for you and this is how you repay us?!'' By now uncle Vernon had forced Harry to look at him so Harry could see how red and angry he looked. His pudgy neck was as red as his face was. Eyes filled with rage and loathing. Harry immediately looked down to his shoes scared and hands instinctively flying up to wrap around his torso.

Angered by the lack of response Uncle Vernon seethed as he threw Harry against the wall head first. He took no hesitation in beating Harry as he slumped to the floor. A kick to the face sent Harry's glasses off his face. A second followed by a third had tears streaming down Harry's face. He could feel a tooth out of place and the taste of warm sulfuric filling his mouth. He swears he could feel a weird discomfort in his jaw but he can't tell nor does he have the time to think before his uncle is yelling again.

''Answer me boy! Or do you want another collection?'' He smiled maliciously.

Harry's eyes widened as his throat constricted at the mention of more collections. He had enough all over his body. His heart raced at the mere thought of them.

''P-please no, i'll be good I swear!'' He pleaded, throwing his hands up to now cover his face as he sinks into the wall as much as he can. Blood dribbling down his chin onto the floor he's sure he's going to be forced to clean up later.

''You better be or next time I'll give you the worst beating ever and leave you for dead you hear me! Just like you should have been years ago. No scraps for a while, worthless freak.''

A cry of pain emitted from harry's throat when a kick was landed dead center of his chest

''Shut the fuck up and be quite'' Uncle Vernon warned before he kept bringing the blown down on harry. At every impact Harry couldn't help but whimper. He knew he would have massive bruises. Not wanting more but also not caring he let his arms sink to his sides as he felt the blows. As per usual Harry blocked everything out around him, as if he entered a headspace away from reality. Something Harry has long been doing during his beatings over the years. No doubt developed from the trauma he's indurred and possibly something his magic gave him to give him a safe haven from insanity as much as it can. His magic's last and only way to help him since the beatings are too much to heal with his deathly weakened state.

The siren pace was disturbed by one specific kick and a crack. He bit down on his tongue to hold back a cry of pain. The next few breaths were ragged and hurt so much. Fortunately that seemed to satisfy Uncle Vernon so he ended the beating by dragging Harry and throwing him into his cupboard not forgetting to tell him how much of a burden he is.

Harry scrunched his face up as he clutched his chest in pain. Every breath he took felt like a stabbing pain he can say he's experienced so many times before. He wanted to cry out so bad but he knew better. Not only will it get him an even worse beating, it's not going to help him in the end, it was useless.

I deserve it anyways

At this point he didn't have to remind himself, his brain did that all by itself, already believed and imprinted into his mind.

Wincing uncomfortably, his jaw and entire midsection was burning and throbbing in pain. Harry knew he was going to regret it but he did it anyway. He opened his mouth only to quickly close it with a groan when he felt pain flare up. Feeling the way it had moved, it's obvious that his jaw was broken or at the very least dislodged. With a quick yet gentle wipe of his chin with his sleeve to wipe up the blood. Harry crawled over, with great difficulty, shaking and almost falling to the floor from being so weak, to the small matris he was forced to call a bed. Letting out a small shaky breath he laid down on his back as to not worsen his injuries any further.