5 Chapter 4

August 1st, 1985 - Number 4, Privet Drive

Merlin, in all his teenage glory, stood tall and glared fiercely down at the beast of a man that should've cared for the boy as family. He was furious. This monster dare lay a hand on a magical soul, one with incredible ability at that! He growled under his breath, his magic swirling dangerously around him.

The ugly, pathetic excuse of a man Harry would have called "Uncle" glared back at the greatest wizard to ever live, however fear was shining through his eyes as he did so. He took a quick step back when Merlin opened his mouth, even though his arms were shaking in rage and his jaw was clenched in silent fury.

Merlin glided across the room to the big brute and said, in impossibly the most softest yet iciest voice to date, two little words.

"You'll pay."

Vernon Dursley, amusingly enough, let out a squeak resembling a sewer rat. He gulped and cast his eyes towards the ground, shivering, and sweat dripping from his fat face.

"I've not done anything wrong! It's you freaks– " Harry flinched, another small whimper escaping his cracked lips, "– that keep coming here and doing whatever you want! We never wanted the boy, so don't..!" This time, before Vernon could continue, Merlin had cast a silencing charm out of anger to see the man's horrid mouth shut. Hatred burned in his eyes as he looked towards the trio of Muggles that were no better than–

A quiet, pain-filled groan was heard in the empty room and Merlin's thoughts broke off as he spun around, eyes darting over to the small form of the boy that lay quivering on the hardwood floor beneath him. He took in all the damage made to the child, his eyes burning with intense ferocity yet also sorrow and dread. He did not deserve this. Nobody did, but especially not this innocent, young boy. All because of who he was...

Merlin slowly walked towards Harry, crouching down beside the frightened child and whispering soothing words in his ear as he healed the damage as much as possible without any potions. He hissed in barely contained fury and contempt at seeing the horrid words carved into the boy's frail arms and legs. Merlin knew he had to get young Harry Potter to the Founders quickly, for his life was in serious danger.

August 1st, 985 - Wizarding Britain

Merlin appeared in a cloud of smoke, standing before the four friends in the centre of the Great Hall. Immediately Helga ushered Merlin, who (still as a teenager) was holding a limp Harry Potter in his arms, over to the makeshift bed on the left to treat the boy's wounds. Rowena placed a set of clean clothes she'd made for the boy beside the bed, and hurried to make some warm food should he wake.

Godric had left to prepare a room for the boy, a room that the four Founders had made specifically for Harry once they'd heard his name for the first time five years ago. As it stood, with Harry living with the Founders it would be known as his room, but in the far future, it would be known as the Room of Requirements in Hogwarts to those who seek it.

Salazar Slytherin stood still as a statue. He was observing the small five-year-old lying on the brink of death, his eyes following the messy strands of inked hair to the wretched scar on the boy's forehead, and then the blood that dripped from all of his wounds to the words carved in his skinny arms and legs. Salazar's eyes lingered on the little chest that was barely rising and falling, trying to find a sign of life in this fragile body. His eyes drifted upwards, and rested upon the closed eyes of the child. He wondered what colour his eyes would be. The softest blue like Helga? The stormiest grey of Rowena? The brown of the earth's soul as Godric's? Or would his eyes simply be green, like his own? He sighed and took a seat.

Suddenly an ear piercing scream sounded throughout the halls, bouncing off the walls and echoing around the five men and women in the castle. It sent shivers running down their spines, and they turned to see Harry Potter sitting up with his eyes still closed and his mouth opened wide. The moment his mouth had shut, they all began to run to his side. Godric burst through the doors and saw the other four hovering over the boy. He sheathed his sword and quickly made his way towards them.

"What happened?" He asked, his gravelly voice breaking the tense atmosphere.

"His body is healing," Helga whispered, her arms placed upon Salazar's shoulder to steady her shocked body. She knew she shouldn't have given him all the potions already, but his life was slipping away faster than she could hope to save him safely. Though she hated the fact that she had to put him through more pain, she'd rather save and nurture this young boy's life than allow him to suffer in his last moments in his short life.

They all watched as the potions that Helga had administered to the boy caused the carved words to fade away, but not completely. The Blood Replenishing potions allowed him to recover from the severe blood loss, and the stitches from wounds that had been stitched up fell out with the skin healing quickly. The Skelegro she had given to the child began its work as another scream ripped out of his throat, his hands clenching the bedsheets with his aching body trembling in fear and shock.

Harry could feel his ribs snapping back into place; the shattered bones in his arms vanished and were being recreated at a tremendous pace. Sweat dripped down his forehead as his eyes, clenched shut with pain, suddenly flew open and the air in the Great Hall sizzled and cracked. Harry's magic sifted through the air as his body continued to suffer under this torment, the pain clouding his mind and causing his sore throat to be put to rest as his mouth was forced to close shut by his magic.

This all took place within just a few minutes, and then Harry's body slumped as his energy was drained out of him. Small gasps left his plump lips, which were now regaining their pink colour. The colour in his cheeks returned and his skin glowed healthily. All in all, Harry looked as though he had never gotten a scratch let alone suffered an entire beating.

Helga sighed in relief and thanked Salazar as he helped her to a seat. Godric placed his hand on Harry's heart and smiled softly. "His heart isn't as weak as it was before, it sounds healthy and strong now." Helga smiled tiredly as she heard those words.

Rowena made Godric hold up the boy as she ran a damp cloth over his body to clean the remnants of blood and sweat. She carefully wiped away his tears and gave a chaste kiss to his cheek before changing his clothes into the spares she had brought. Godric took her trembling hands and helped her sit after laying the boy back down. Rowena didn't say a thing, but they could all see how she had been terrified for the young boy.

Godric turned back and ran his fingers through the boy's hair, admiring his features. Without all the grime upon his body, he could see them clearly now and was amazed. The child's skin was pale, but more healthy than sick like earlier. His lashes were thick and his hair was as dark as the shadows. He had a cute, slightly upturned, button nose above his pink lips, and his little hands rested on top of his chest. To Godric, this child looked the epitome of innocence and beauty. Taking a step back, the man barked out a laugh and turned to face his friends.

"He's one that will be breaking the ladies hearts when he's older, that's for sure."

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