Disclaimers: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters. I am only borrowing them for the sole purpose of
entertainment and nothing else. No money is being made from this.
Notes: Harry suffers in his confinement. Sirius comes to the rescue and calls the Knight Bus to take him someplace safe.
Sordidus Ars Magica
It was dark under the cupboard. Harry lay on his side, shivering even though it wasn’t truly cold in there. It was August, but
he still shivered, the minute tremors shaking his body to the core. At least he thought it was August. He couldn’t really be sure
anymore . . . it had been so long since he had been outside.
For the past couple months, Harry had been locked in his cupboard. He was fed only scraps of food if anything, only given
enough water to survive on and nothing more. Harry was wearing the same clothes that he had stepped off the train in, hadn’t
had a bath or a good washing since that day either. He was allowed only five minutes, three times a day, to use the bathroom,
and only with Vernon watching him to make sure that he didn’t do anything that could be construed as an escape attempt. To
further keep Harry from trying anything, Uncle Vernon had even confiscated his glasses, so Harry couldn’t see all that well
The first time that he had been permitted outside of the cupboard for one of the short bathroom breaks, Harry hadn’t been able
to go, not with Vernon watching him . . . he had been too nervous. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to hold it in until the
next break and had made quite a mess of himself. He had gotten a beating for that. Of course, he got a beating at least once a
day anyway, whether he did anything to provoke it or not. Vernon seemed to enjoy beating Harry to a bloody pulp.
Harry was tired and sore. He couldn’t move without wincing. Of course, he didn’t move all that much, only when he
breathed really, but he still hurt. A day or two ago, Harry couldn’t be sure of how long it had been, the lightbulb in his tiny little
room had gone out. Harry had panicked, terror overwhelming his common sense and he had clawed at the locked door with
his bare hands, working his fingers raw, causing splinters to slice his hands open, a few of his fingernails having broken off
during the course of his panic. He had given up after a few minutes, his fingers bloody and raw, having left a number of
marks in the wooden door along with a good deal of his blood.
The door hadn’t been opened since Harry had unsuccessfully tried to claw it open, nor had been fed or given water. He also
hadn’t been allowed out to go to the bathroom, and the smell that occupied Harry’s little room was horrendous. What else
could be expected though? He hadn’t been able to hold it in any longer . . . it had just hurt too much to try.
Angry muttering caught Harry’s attention and he closed his eyes, knowing what was to come in just a few moments. Uncle
Vernon was mad about something and coming to take it out on him once again. It was predictable . . . it happened often
enough. Uncle Vernon unlocked and yanked the door open, a wave of light flooding the small space and sending stabs of pain
through Harry’s eyes, even though they were already closed.
Harry weakly raised his arms, his hands shaking as he tried to curl up into an even smaller ball than he was already in. He
whimpered, the pain of moving almost agony to him. He just wanted to be left alone, to silently die in his little locked room.
“Look at this filth!” Uncle Vernon yelled. He reached in, grabbed Harry and pulled him out by his hair.
Harry bit back a cry of pain, wrapping his bloodied fingers around Vernon’s wrist and trying to lessen the pain in his scalp as
his skin was stretched. Vernon threw Harry to the floor in the hallway, smirking as Harry writhed in pain . . . as Harry
screamed hoarsely as his body collided with the hard floor.
Harry was weak and barely conscious. He looked up at his uncle Vernon, his vision blurry without his glasses. “If you don’t .
. . want me . . . why don’t . . . you let me . . . leave?” Harry asked, his voice weak and barely a whisper, leaving him out of
breath as he looked pleadingly for mercy from his uncle.
No mercy would be granted to him though. Vernon violently kicked Harry in the side, causing him to roll over onto his back
before the larger man began to pummel him with vicious punches and kicks to his already battered body. “How dare you talk
back to me, you unnatural abomination!” Vernon yelled, sending his fist hard against Harry’s face.
Harry turned, blood dribbling from his lips as he spit out a few of his teeth. He could feel a cut on the inside of his mouth from
when his now missing teeth had cut into his cheek. He didn’t have time to ponder the injury though, since Vernon continued
his beating. Harry just lay there, too numb to care anymore . . . he just didn’t care.
Sirius stalked angrily down the middle of Privet Drive, his wand clenched in a tight fist. He swore to himself that if Harry was
hurt, he would make those Dursleys pay for it. With a sneer firmly set on his face, he approached Number Four, taking a long
deep breath as he stood outside the door.
Then he heard it . . . from inside the house, he heard the sounds of a struggle. He didn’t waste a moment and raised his wand.
With one single word, the door was blown off its hinges, propelled with a great force into the house.
Sirius stepped over the debris and walked inside, glaring at the woman and boy that were cowering in the room as he walked
through it. They looked too frightened to be of any threat to him. They must be Dudley and Petunia, he idly thought. “Where’
s Harry?” Sirius demanded with a growl.
Petunia merely shielded her massive son from Sirius and pointed with a shaking hand, looking at him as if he were the devil
incarnate. Sirius followed her gesture, heading in the way that she had directed. His only concern was for Harry now . . .
these Muggles didn’t mean a thing.
His eyes widened and he gasped when he finally found Harry. His godson was lying on the floor of a hallway, a hulking man
standing over him. Blood was flowing from countless wounds on Harry’s unconscious form. His body was thin, so thin . . .
he looked as if he hadn’t eaten anything in months. And by the sight of all those bruises, he had been beaten repeatedly over
the course of his stay here. Sirius took a breath, wincing at the foul stench that wafted through his nostrils . . . he knew that it
was coming from both Harry and the small room that he could see behind Vernon’s back.
Fury welled in Sirius’s body . . . his hands shook he was so mad. “How could you?” Sirius asked through clenched teeth.
“Who the bloody hell are you?” Vernon demanded, glaring hatefully at Sirius.
“I’m Harry’s Godfather.” Sirius replied coldly, gesturing down at Harry’s immobile, battered body. “How dare you hurt
him!” He aimed his wand at Vernon, his blood boiling in rage.
Vernon took a step back, his eyes widening as he looked between Sirius and Harry fearfully. He was afraid, at least he wasn’t
a complete idiot. However, Sirius couldn’t just let Vernon get away with what he had done to Harry. He wouldn’t risk his
own freedom, but there was something he could do to repay the man’s cruelty.
With a smirk on his face, Sirius raised his wand again. He aimed it at Harry first, muttering an incantation slowly, watching as
what appeared to be a gray mist rose from Harry’s body and to his wand. Once the last of the mist had dissipated, Sirius
turned his wand to Vernon, pleased with the frightened expression on the large man’s face. Repeating his earlier incantation,
with one added word, Sirius sent the gray mist from his wand and into Vernon.
Vernon reacted immediately to the spell, falling to the floor with an audible thump. He writhed in pain, crying out repeatedly.
But he deserved it, he deserved to feel all of the pain that he had given to Harry. And that was just what Sirius’s spell had
done, pulled a shadow of the pain from Harry’s emaciated and weak body and sent it into Vernon. It only lasted a few seconds
at most, but it was still quite effective. When it was over, Vernon lay limp on the floor of his home, panting for breath as the
waves of pain receded from him.
“Get up!” Sirius yelled.
Vernon slowly rose to his feet, probably more out of fear than obedience. “W-What did you do to me?” He asked, his body
“I just repaid you for what you did to my godson. That was his pain you felt, you stupid Muggle.” Sirius glowered. “Now,
go get all of his things! I’m taking him out of here for good!”
Vernon nodded and left the hallway. Sirius couldn’t help but notice the small smile that had appeared on Vernon’s face. Sirius
wanted to wipe that smile away, but couldn’t do any more to harm Vernon without risking his own freedom and Harry’s safety
at the same time.
As soon as Vernon was out of sight, Sirius knelt down beside Harry, gently shaking the unconscious youth. “Harry, come on,
wake up.” Sirius urged in a serious whisper. He frowned when he saw a few teeth lying on the floor against one of the walls
and reached over, scooping them into his hand and tossing them into his pocket.
Harry opened his eyes a thin crack. He shivered, turning away as if afraid that Sirius would hurt him. Sirius frowned, gently
laying his hand on Harry’s arm to offer comfort. After a moment, Harry fell back into unconsciousness, probably not even
realizing that Sirius had come to save him from this.
Moving as carefully as he possibly could, Sirius lifted Harry’s light body into his arms. He ignored the stench, not caring that
blood was quickly seeping into his own robes. His concern was for Harry and nothing else. He frowned as Harry whimpered
in pain, trying to hold the youth as gently against his own body as he possibly could.
Then Sirius walked back to the door, passing Vernon who had dragged Harry’s trunk, Hedwig’s empty cage, and a much
smaller case down the stairs. “Bring them to the curb.” Sirius ordered, not sparing even a glance in the disgusting man’s
Vernon obeyed, muttering quietly. Sirius ignored him. As soon as he reached the curb, he stuck out his wand hand as far as
he could, knowing that they needed a ride. Not even a moment later, the Knight Bus appeared with a deafening bang. A
conductor, dressed in a purple uniform stepped out. He stopped short as he saw Sirius, his eyes widening as he took in the
sight of Harry’s battered body.
“What ‘appened?” He asked, stepping aside quickly to give Sirius room.
“He was beaten by that Muggle behind me.” Sirius stated, not glancing back as he set Harry down on one of the bedsteads,
hearing as the conductor brought Harry’s luggage on board. He also heard as the conductor exclaimed his outrage to Vernon,
yelling various forms of expletives his way before returning to the bus.
The conductor pushed the luggage under the bed Harry was on. “Where to?” He asked, casting concerned glances at Harry
Sirius opened his mouth but stopped short, not knowing exactly where to go. Hogwarts was too far away . . . Sirius needed to
get Harry help a good deal sooner than that. Then he thought of that letter that Dumbledore had gotten. He dropped some
Sickles in the conductor’s waiting hand. “Can you take me to a man named Arthur Weasley?”
“Of course.” The conductor nodded. He looked at Harry again. “Is there anything else you need?”
“No, just get us to the Weasley house quickly.” Sirius replied, sitting on the edge of the bed by Harry’s side, gently stroking a
hand through Harry’s greasy and unkempt hair, frowning at the filth he could feel with just his fingertips. He hoped that Harry
would be okay.
To Be Continued . . .