The Last Of The Line
Disclaimers: Not mine, don't sue!
Chapter 2: A time for remembrance
10 years later…
`There were bodies all over, screams coming from all around him. He could feel his mother's shallow breaths on his neck as she ran with him in his arms. It was dark, but their surroundings were illuminated by the burning buildings.
Then, they fell.
He looked at his dying mother as she told him that everything would be fine and, against his will, he was lifted from her and, farther away, in the background, he could hear two voices lingering behind.
"It's the mother. What shall we do with her?"
"Kill her!" He heard a feminine shrill shout of pain and found himself shouting himself….'
He sat bolt upright, panting and sweating awakening from one of his usual nightmares. The boy was around 15, but looked much smaller. He was painfully skinny, severely malnourished. He had black, messy hair, startling green eyes, a small cute nose, full rosy lips, high cheek bones and a very slight tan. There was a strange scar on his forehead, in the shape of a lightning bolt, a reminder of the night in which he lost everything. All in all he was beautiful!
Right on time, as though by clockwork, the door of his uncle's room opened lowdly and closed with a slam. `Here we go!' Thought Harry bitterly. The ceiling of his bedroom-which happened to be the cupboard under the stairs-began to shake under his uncle's heavy and angry footsteps, and, a few seconds later, his door swung open, revealing a very purple faced Vernon Dursley standing in the door frame. Harry was grabbed by the arm and dragged out of his tiny cupboard to be slammed against the closest wall.
"How dare you wake up my family! We work so hard everyday to raise your sorry arse, and how do you repay us? By waking us up with your stupid nightmares! Get up and start on your chores boy, or you'll regret ever being born!" His uncle shouted at his nephew, spreading spit with every word, and let the boy slide to the floor.
This was the morning routing at 4, Privet Drive. Harry would wake up from a nightmare, his uncle would throw him out of his cupboard, insult him and send him to do his chores. It was really starting to get boring.
Harry stood up and made his way to the kitchen to cook breakfast for his family. He'd hoped that today he'd have some leftovers to eat, since he really was quite hungry. His aunt would `forget' to feed him if he didn't finish his chores in time.
He finished cooking, put everything on the table, walked outside and started to water the yard. Shortly after, when he was done he went inside to get ready for school, clean the dishes and see if there was anything he could eat. There wasn't! This would be a week since the last time he ate, and he really felt the effects of it. He finished up and started to walk to the school. Dudley was driven to school every morning by his father on the way to work, while Harry was forced to walk all 2 miles there. He wasn't allowed in the car. The Dursleys were afraid that he'd `pass his freakiness' to them.
Yes, that's right, freakiness. For Harry was not a normal kid. He was the last of his line. The last of the Potter family. A very ancient and renown magical clan, who had been exterminated by Voldemort, known to be the most evil wizard of their time, for the simple reason that he feared being overpowered by one of them, seeing as how much strength the clan possessed.
Harry remembered every little bit of that night, and knew that if one of those men, the Death Eaters, would somehow recognise him, he would be killed as well as everyone he knew. With that knowledge he'd become a very quiet child, not making any friends with anyone. But that could also be attributed to his cousin, Dudley, would beat up anyone who came close to him. He was very shy and subdued. He spoke only when needed, even with his neighbour, Ms. Figg, who had been with him since he was born and watched over him, keeping the promise given to his mother.
He arrived to the school entrance and raised his eye to look up at it. It looked like a prison to him. A two story, grey building with bricked walls and bars covering the windows. His cousin went to some stupid private school, highly prestigious. The only reason for which Dudley went to Smeltings was because his father went there and, thanks to Harry-who did the test for him-he got excepted. Harry had wanted to go to Hogwarts, a nice big public school in Great Whinging, where Ms Figg worked, were they taught magic to the kids who had the ability to do it, and he knew this thanks to Ms Figg, but there were some extra taxes to pay on it that the Dursleys would have never paid for him.
There were a lot of nice kids in the school, despite the way it looked and he would love to spend time talking to them or just hang out like everyone did, but the images of the dead bodies of his whole family came into his mind every time he thought about it. He became traumatised that night, he really couldn't get those images out of his head. He couldn't be normal, he wasn't normal. Ms. Figg had taught him how to control his magic and test his limits, and once he'd unleashed his full powers a few years ago she looked frightened by the amount of it. Ever since then, he knew he was abnormal.
His uncle was right, he was a freak, a waste of space and a burden. After ten years of hearing those words, Harry had started to believe them. It couldn't really be helped, if one is told repeatedly that they are worthless day after day for years, they begin to believe it. It's only natural.
He really missed life with the Potter clan. They were a lively bunch that loved to play pranks on each other or just joke around. Harry was very loved by everyone, being the only Heir of their clan and being as beautiful as he was, what else could be expected!
Life had turned down hill since that day ten years ago.
He and Mrs Figg had hidden for a few days, moving out of their hiding spot only at night when out of the safety of the trees, to go and find another place to hide in. When they finally arrived in Privet Drive, Ms. Figg wasted no time in bringing Harry up to the door and knocking. They looked awful. The very picture of the walking dead-or diseased. They hadn't had a chance to bathe or change clothing in their haste. All in all, they were filthy and exhausted.
When the door opened, a skinny woman with a really high neck and horse face stood in front of them. She looked them up and down and spoke in a very rude tone: "We have nothing for you, go away!" She went ahead to close the door, but Ms. Figg stopped her.
"No, wait! We're not beggars!" The skinny, horse faced women looked at them again and waited for an explanation. "Are you…" Ms Figg started, taking the letter out of her pocket and reading the names on the envelope. "Ms. Petunia Dursley?" She looked at them suspiciously before nodding. Ms. Figg looked relieved and said: "My name is Arabella Figg, I'm a friend of your sister's, Lily." Petunia looked disgusted at them at the mention of her sister.
"What are you doing here? "e don't want your kind here! Go back where you came from!" She said trying again, but failing, to close the door.
"Please, we can't go back!"
"And why would that be?" She sneered at them.
"Because everything has been destroyed!" Ms. Figg said desperately and hopelessly. Harry looked at Ms. Figg with an expression that showed a pain no kid should know and hugged her, trying to reassure her that everything would be alright. Petunia looked at the boy for the first time and was first mesmerised by his beauty, then something clicked into her and she looked at him with disgust. Ms. Figg began explaining: "Our clan was attacked, everything was destroyed! We're all that's left of it!"
Petunia looked a little shocked, then spoke rudely to them: "And what do you want?"
"Lily left you this." She said handing the letter Lily had assigned her with to her. Petunia took it, ripped it open and started reading it. Her face paling.
"No, I will not take that freak inside my house!" She shouted at the elder lady.
"First of all, he's not a freak, and second of all… you're all that he has left! He just witnessed everyone he knew being exterminated and all you have to say is that you won't take him! You don't even know him! I know for a fact that if you give him a chance and get to know him, you'll love him as much as I love him!"
"I don't care!"
"You can't refuse! That's the last wish your sister made before dying! If you at least had some dignity, you wouldn't deny her last wish! The boy has nowhere to go! I promised her that I'd take him to you, deliver the letter and keep an eye on the boy, and I intend on fulfilling my role!"
At that moment a very fat man with a thick moustache driving a car parked in the driveway. He turned the car off, walked out, looked at the women and child in an unflattering way and walked to his wife. "Stay here!" She said as she grabbed her husband's wrist and dragged him inside the house, closing the door behind them.
They heard talking from behind the door. It sounded like some kind of discussion was going on. They caught some words that sounded a lot like `freak', `abnormality', `..will not let poor Dudley live with that thing'. After a long time the door opened again and a purple faced Mr. Dursley walked to out, looking them up and down. He looked at the boy, then back at the woman and asked a little harshly: "This is the boy? "Ms. Figg squeezed the hand of the little boy that was shaking at the sight of the angry, ugly big man in front of him. She nodded. "Fine, we'll take him! Now leave!" He said, grabbing the boys arm tightly, dragging him in and slamming the door behind him. Just as he was closing the door the little boy turned to look to her, almost pleading her not to leave him with them.
She found a job and managed to buy the house next to the Dursleys, thanks to the help of Dumbledore, an old friend of the Potter clan, and kept her promise, keeping an eye on the last of the line.
Life had never been the same. He was forced to live in a cupboard, do chores and starve if he didn't finish them in time. His cousin would often beat him up with his friends, he never made friends and became very subdued. Occasionally he'd get his uncle really made and would get slapped and sent to his cupboard for days on end without food or water.
He shook his head, he shouldn't think of those things now. This was his life and he couldn't change it now. With a heavy heart he looked up when the bell rang and walked to his chemistry lab, where he would be insulted for every little thing he did wrong or for the baggy hand-me-downs he wore, they were his cousin's and looked like a tent on him. But that was not important.
He made his way to his seat at the far corner and took out his books.
AN: So sorry I didn't upload in like FIVE months! But I lost my Portkey password so I always forgot.
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