The Devil's In The Details

Chapter Two

It was hours of drawn-out torment before the Grunnings office left and Vernon came to "fetch" Harry. It was an exciting few minutes where Harry sat leaning against the wall in the hall while Vernon stared at him getting increasingly redder and redder as he inspected his nephew. Harry was surprised he managed to get quite that red before turning purple. His walrus moustache quivered and shook like a suffocating squirrel. Harry could smell the alcohol oozing from his uncle's pores. Harry wasn't sure what Aunt Petunia put in the punch, but he was sure no one cared what pudding tasted like by the time it came around.

Vernon's black beady eyes were glazed and unfocused as they glared into Harry's glassy green ones. Dudley was standing at the bottom of the staircase and was vibrating in anticipation. --The most exercise Harry was sure his cousin had had in years.-- His aunt, on the other hand, was deadly calm, peering down at him from her pinched face. She was leaning against the door frame gently with her arms crossed tightly across her body.

"Boy, we have put up with you, and your, your freakishness for far too long! We clothed you, fed you, gave you a roof! And we've never got an inch of gratitude from you or your kind!" Spittle flew from his mouth and got caught in his mustache. "Your breathing is bringing down the quality of this neighbourhood!" He pauses to look at his wife for a moment, and she gives them all a sharp nod. "And we let you into our home, out of the goodness of our hearts. And all you can do is disrespect our house and taint our Dudders with your freakishness! You ruined our party, you ruined our home, you ruin everything you touch!" Vernon waved one of his large sausage-like fingers in Harry's face. "Not anymore! We're going to get rid of you like we did that blasted bird of yours! Not. Any. More." Vernon's face got closer and closer to Harry's with every word. His breath fanned across Harry's face, burning his eyes from the sour alcohol smell.

"I told you, Potter! Dad's gonna get you so bad!" Dudley cried with childish delight.

Harry doubted he'd manage to survive this half as well as he would have even one week ago. His magical core was at its limit as it tried to keep his organs from failing. If any of the injuries he gets from this are even mildly severe, it could be the long and not too sudden end to the Boy Who Lived. Because it would be long. And slow. His core would keep him alive, if barely, but still, alive and not getting any better.

Harry wasn't sure if he wanted his uncle to use the belt or his fists. The fist had a broader surface area, so more distribution of force. But the belt Harry was more used to, a smaller area, and it was usually on the back and not his stomach where his soft organs were. It was a real toss up as to which one he was hoping for.

Ah, Harry had miscalculated. His uncle has decided to go with his feet. Harry was on the receiving end of a swift kick to the chest; he coughed violently, his chest spasming. The strike crushed his ribs on both sides, the wall, and his uncle's monstrous foot. And another kick and another, into his stomach and chest. Harry did his best to suppress any noises, but his ribs didn't listen when they made a resounding crack! The air left Harry's lungs. He gasped, sliding to his side on the floor.

Dudley made a captivated sound that encouraged his intoxicated father. Vernon gave a satisfied grunt at Harry's pain-filled face. Harry watched through squinted eyes as his uncle unbuckled his belt and slipped it from his pants' loops. He had thought his uncle would stop after he broke something. Harry was wrong. The belt rained down on his side with a crack and a snap.

Harry chuckled a pain-filled laugh and grinned a bloody smile at his uncle, his brain glazed over, foggy from pain. Maybe he does ruin everything he touches, but he can't help but feel the Dursleys deserve it.

"What are you smirking about, freak? I broke your stick. You can't do any of your blasted freakishness outside of that sodding school!" Harry just kept smiling. "I'll wipe that foolish look from your face," Vernon kicked Harry in the nose and the ear and the neck --that was fun--, and the nose again. Before he went back for the belt.