Part 4

The boy was curled up in his blanket and stared against the big, scary door. He was close to his 12th birthday but at times like this he felt as if he was still a little child. He hadn't done his chores in the garden because he had so much to do with cleaning Dudley's room that he just forgot about it. Uncle Vernon was furious and beat him until he started to bleed. Now the blood had dried on his skin and his tears seeped into his wounds as he wrapped his thin arms around his body. He silently weeped and hoped that someone would come and save him from the destiny that would definitely await him. He knew that Dumbledore raised him to be slaughtered by the dark Lord. He had known since the end of the first year, when he, Ron and Hermione had simply gotten through the traps that had been laid out to protect the Philosopher's Stone from being stolen. He got to the Stone anyway and even managed to trick Voldemort into believing he didn't have the Stone - at least for a little while. The shock that had come when he killed Quirrell hadn't worn off yet. He still had nightmares about Quirrell crumbling to dust right in front of him. By his own hands.

Harry risked a glance and stared at his hands that were small and delicate but were covered with blood. He groaned in pain and the sound seemed to be echoed by the small room - Dudley's second room that he had only moved into because he didn't fit into his cupboard anymore. He silently started crying again when a loud sound made him nearly jump out of his skin. Voldemort!, he thought and grabbed his wand, that he actually couldn't use as he was underage, but he didn't think about that. He began to tremble and pulled the covers closer to him.

The door was banged open with a loud thud. Harry let out a blood curling scream and pointed his wand at the stranger.