Why Did I Want To Be An Animagus?

Chapter 1

Harry P.O.V.

I woke up to a dull silence. I was confused. What woke me up?

I looked at the clock and saw that it was only 4:30 AM, so I can't be Aunt Petunia, and it cant be an owl, because I just sent Pig back to Ron and Hermione with a new letter last night.

Then, it hit me. A sharp pain when I fill my lungs with air. I moan in pain. Uncle Vernon must have broken about three ribs at least.

I attempt to sit up, only getting half way before the pain stops me. I try lifting my arm, only to find out that that's broken as well.

I close my eyes, trying not to think of the fact that Aunt Petunia will be coming to wake me up in about twenty minutes, and I will have to get up.

Instead, I focused on my birthday tomorrow. I felt a dull ache settle in my stomach. My first birthday without Sirius, and my sixteenth birthday without my parents.

I feel silent tears flowing down my cheek. I choke on a sob, needing to bite on my lip to stop from screaming from the pain. 

Its all my fault! If I hadn't been so stupid then maybe he would still be here! Maybe I would even be living with him... maybe I would be an animagus like him... 

I choke back anither sob. The pain was unbearable, both physical and emotional pain. 

I look at the clock, and see that I only have five more minutes until Aunt Petunia comes.

I sigh, then wince from the pain.

"Boy! Wake up! Go make breakfast!" I hear my Aunt come, exactly at 5:00.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia." I reply, instantly regretting it.

Note to self: talk as little as possible. That shouldent be to hard, I mean I rarley talk anyway.

I close my eyes, count to three, and push myself off the ground quickly, trying and failing to not move my ribs to much.

When I'm on my feet, I feel myself sway a bit. I hold my arms out in a attempt to steady myself.

I take an uneasy step, and wince at the pain.

Ignoring it, I limp out of the room.

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I place the plates of food on to the table, joining the cup of black coffee.

"Boy! Go paint the shed. Don't take your sweet time, either. I want you done before lunch. Understand?" Uncle Vernon ordered roughly.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," I submit.

I limp outside, refusing the temptation to punch him in the face. Merlin only knows how much trouble I would get for that.

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I felt the heat radiating down on my back, burning the tender flesh.

I wiped the sweat with my long discarded shirt, and continued painting. 

I quickly glanced up at the sky and saw that it was almost noon. 

I need to pick up the pace! I only have about an hour, and im only 3/4 of the way done!

The number 3/4 brought up painful memories. Memories better left untuched. Hogwarts, Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, Dumbledore, and how they all left him here for dead. 

My ribs were burning from the strain of standing, bent over to get the bottom, or stretching to get the top.

If it really came down to it, I would choose Voldemort over the Dursleys any day, I thought, almost meaning it.

Little did he know how true that was about to become. 

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