Unforgivables

Chapter 2: Home from Hell

It took a full week for Tom to find where Potter had been sent to after the death of his parents. Apparently, Dumbledore found it fitting to send the savior of the Wizarding World to his only living relatives. A couple of ghastly muggles and their pig of a child. Tom knew that something was wrong the moment Harry had approached him several days ago but to see the vast quantities of fat and flesh hanging off his cousin's frame when he barely had skin on his own bones only set his worries in stone.

Taking Lucius and Severus with him, the Dark Lord apparates to number 4 Privet Drive. Upon arrival, the three note the lack of wards. Quietly making their way into the house, they separate. Severus goes up the stairs to search the bedrooms for Potter while Lucius and Voldemort, with his glamor up, go scope out the noises coming from what appears to be the living room.

Before entering the room the pair placed a disillusionment charm on themselves making sure to stay in the dark corners. What they see inside is both extremely confusing and infuriating. Albus Dumbledore sat with Molly Weasley, her youngest son, Ronald, and the Granger girl all of whom Severus had told them were Harry's best friends. The boy himself is knelt down on the floor in the middle of the room, shivering in what can only be fear. He's wearing nothing but pants that can only belong to his grotesquely overweight cousin showing his heavily scarred back and stomach with a deep blush covering his face, ears, and chest. As if the child has anything to be embarrassed about. Voldemort's hatred of the man is only strengthened when he here's what they're saying.

"He's such a useless waste of space, Headmaster. I don't see how he can save anyone," Molly states matter a factly.

"I agree, sir," Ron continues throwing a disgusted look at Harry. "All he does is whine about being in pain."

"I see," Dumbledore has a thoughtful look. "Has that little habit been rectified?"

Of course, headmaster," Granger speaks this time barely looking up from the book her nose is buried in.

"Flagellum!" Long deep lashes appear on Harry's back, blood pouring out of the new wounds. The smallest most heartbreaking whimper leaves the child's mouth but other than that he doesn't even flinch. This doesn't seem to appease Dumbledore as he then sends a violent cutting hex towards the boy.

"Yet he's still making these pathetic noises," he lets out an aggravated breath. "Anything else you must report?"

"Just that he chooses to cry himself to sleep every night. Nothing I do makes him stop," the youngest male Weasley sneers down at his supposed best mate.

"It's not your fault Ronnie that he's so pathetic," Molly consoles her child. It's sickening to watch but just as Tom and Lucius decided to storm in and stop their abuse they feel wards around the room reeking of Dumbledore's magical signature.

The Slytherin duo is forced to watch the scene unravel, neither wanting to leave the child in the event that the wards fall as soon as the old man leaves. Instead, they watch as Harry is made to suffer through various hexes, curses, and even a few jinxes that are considered dark magic until the boy passes out from either fear or blood loss.

"I think he looks thirsty, Headmaster." The Weasley boy rises and picks up a glass of juice sitting on the coffee table before approaching Harry. Once directly over the boy, he proceeds to slowly pour the juice onto him until he stirs.

Quickly, almost as if he was never unconscious, Harry sits on his hunched allowing the liquid the flow into his mouth as he hangs upon the redhead's pants leg. After only a few sips Ron dumps the rest onto his friend and makes a hasty retreat back to his seat, snickering as Harry gags and gasp for breath.

"Now everyone," he looks at each person before continuing, letting his eye fall on Harry's shaking form. "I believe that Harry's had enough punishment and should get a reward before being sent to bed." Said boy looks up at his mentor in disbelieve and awe. Both Voldemort and Lucius are disgusted by his reaction. How long do you have to beat someone that the thought of reward gets a look as if he's being crowned king?