FicWad

Chapter 2: I Am Normal!
AN: I like Cheese!


I could feel myself stirring, and yet again I could feel the harsh light burning into my eyelids. This light, however, seemed different; it held less energy and felt…well, the only word that comes to mind is artificial. Cracking one eye open, the reason why came to me quickly as I found myself looking up at a bright white ceiling decorated with sterile fluorescent lighting. Strangely, I did not notice I was in a bed at first; however, now that I knew I was, I released the tension from my muscles and burrowed deeper into the mattress below me, which was much softer than the one in my cupboard by any stretch.
Looking around, I saw Aunt Petunia talking to someone whom I assumed to be the nurse at the administration desk. I was not surprised by the worried look Aunt Petunia was displaying for I knew it was all just an act. After all, it would not be good if word were to get around that the Dursleys held anything but love in their hearts for their nephew. No, that would cause a scandal, and while Aunt Petunia did love juicy bits of gossip, she very much preferred them to involve someone other than herself, of course.
When she saw that I had awoken Aunt Petunia grimaced, for now she knew that she had to interact with me and put on the false display of a loving, caring guardian. She figured that if she was not there when I awoke that I might beg leave from the nurse, and I would no longer be a concern of her or her family. Unfortunately, now that they both saw that I had indeed risen from my unconsciousness, she knew that she had to love me, no matter how distasteful that may be.
For me, the whole situation was disgusting and insulting; basically, I hated when these types of situations arose. I was reminded of when something like this had happened once before. Aunt Petunia had been called in to school because, quite simply, Dudley had broken my nose. I was mystified when she fussed over me, almost as though she cared about my welfare. All that was cleared up when I got home, however; it was…explained to me that it was my fault that my nose was broken, as though I brought Dudley’s fist up and face butted it just so I could have the rest of the day off from school. I received several sharp smacks to the nose from her wooden spoon, and then was sent to my cupboard to think about what I had done.
All that, however, was nothing compared to what happened when Dudley and Vernon got home. The trouble started when Dudley began complaining that his fist hurt. Upon hearing this news, Uncle Vernon, in true Uncle Vernon fashion, proceeded to break my nose even more with his own fists, to teach me a lesson, I suppose. The only good thing that came of this is that at least when he broke it, it returned to being straight, and my sinuses cleared out in the process. There was now only a small bump where the two breaks had been, showing the only evidence that my nose had ever been broken in the first place.
Breaking from my reverie, I saw Aunt Petunia coming over in a hurried fashion, sniffling quietly as if she was close to tears; it was yet another horrible blow to my psyche; a reminder to never let anyone love me because, of course, love wasn’t real, but just a false image.
“OH, MY BABY!! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?” she wailed, completely over the top, obviously faking the emotion. Just like with the school, however, the nurse did not pick up on this, as her mind was clouded by the loving image before her. She had a great deal of sympathy in her eyes, and was most likely thinking something along the lines of, ‘This poor woman, who found out that her nephew was seriously hurt! Ah, but all’s well, she knows now that he is going to be alright. Aww, how lovely.’ How lovely indeed.
“I’m fine Aunty, really,” I said in my best loving and embarrassed voice. Though the temptation was great to show my Aunt for the fraud she was, I knew that if I did not play along, I would be punished even more than I was already sure to be. After all, I had already caused my loving family the expense of a nurse, along with ruining the rest of their holiday. Sometimes, I’ve learned, it’s best not to dig myself in any deeper than I already am.
“Oh my poor baby, lets get you back to the cabin so you can rest in your own bed, okay Honey?” Aunt Petunia was really putting on a show, using that sickly sweet voice way to much. I really must admit though, she did look like a hysterical mother caring for her child. I, however, could see the malice in her eyes, previewing the pain that awaited me when I got back to the cabin.
“Just one more thing before you two leave,” said the nurse in a cheerful tone, happy that we were together and oh-so-happy. “Here you are Mrs. Dursley; these are pain killers for young Harry here. They ought to help him with any pain he will be experiencing over the next few days.”
“Thank you so much, I’ll make sure I give them to him when he starts to hurt. Thank you again for taking care of him.” With that, not even waiting for the nurse to reply, Aunt Petunia pulled me out of bed in the most motherly way she could manage, and then hurried me out of the nurse’s office. The trip back to the cabin was a silent one, but I could now openly see Aunt Petunia’s anger, and I feared what was to come from Uncle Vernon upon arrival.
As soon as we were safely inside the cabin, Aunt Petunia shoved me to the center of the room and turned me away from the awful stares of Uncle Vernon and Dudley while asking, “Which side of your head did you hit you stupid, stupid boy?” in a chillingly calm voice.
Through my incredible fear of what was to come, I could not help but stutter out my answer. “M-My r-r-right side, M-Ma’am.” Finally having spat out a response, I snapped my mouth such tightly and turned my gaze to the floor around my feet, not wanting to see what was coming. For a few tantalizing moments nothing happened, allowing my foolish mind to begin to think that maybe I would be left alone. This was not to be, however, as my Uncle’s swinging, club-like fist struck me on the right side of my head from behind, a few centimeters away from where the injury was located.
Flung to the floor, I let out a startled yelp of pain. Knowing that more punishment was to come, I quickly began shutting down my mind, dulling myself to the painful sensations I would soon start to feel. After years of habitual beatings, I gained this ability by necessity, and it allowed me to lessen the painful feeling somewhat. Unfortunately, this detachment from my senses forced me to lower my resistance to their attacks, leaving me even more open to their brutality; overall, though, I knew it was worth it.
“Get up, Boy!” yelled Uncle Vernon, whilst yanking me to my feet by the hair on the right side of my head. “What do you think people will say now, you freak!” He punctuated the word freak by cuffing me again on the right side of the head, this time nailing my injury perfectly. “What will they say, eh? Can’t even protect our nephew from serious injury! People will start asking questions about you now! WHAT WILL THEY SAY NOW, BOY!” he bellowed. During the rant, he hit me sharply with each point he made, as though he was attempting to drive the point home through pain. I could feel my injury throbbing now, and knew that it was getting worse as my violence continued.
Finally, I fell in a heap to the floor, seemingly losing all my muscular strength. Though my thoughts were becoming more and more dazed, I still well aware of what was happening to me; indeed, the stark reality of Uncle Vernon’s lesson served as a very efficient reminder. Inside my mind however, detached from the pain, I could feel all the energy around me, from Uncle Vernon’s rage, to Aunt Petunia’s suppressed joy at witnessing the beating being received by the foul spawn of her no-good sister. I could even sense Dudley and his two friends crouching outside under an open window, listening in on my punishment. Dudley’s energy spoke of glee, while the other two’s seemed more of curiosity, hinted with the sense of relief that they were, thankfully, in the clear.
Indeed, though I was outwardly becoming less and less conscious, I could still feel all the energy around me. I could feel the location of every last living creature within that cabin, no matter how small or insignificant, even including all the insects. For example, I knew that there were ants on the right wall scouting for food, and that there was a spider on the ceiling waiting in its ever-patient vigil for the fly that was not-to-far away to fall into its trap. Though I could not see these things, somehow, I just knew them to be so.
So dazed was I that I did not even notice when I was thrown roughly back into the wood bin. Not until the lid was shut and all the light was cut from my vision did I venture forth from my mental hiding place, acknowledging the sensations coming from my badly beaten body. Suddenly, a sharp gasp, followed by a pain laced groan, filled the silence of the wood bin as my hands hurried to cradle my head. Uncle Vernon must have hit me extremely hard this time, for I could now feel the slick blood slowly flowing from my wound. Not knowing what else to do, I quickly took off my shirt and tied it around my head to dampen the open flow of blood before I suffered too much loss.
I was really starting to dislike this camping trip. So far, the only sleep I was able to enjoy came when I managed to lose conscious, and judging by my current state, it looked like that would not be changing any time soon. My body had felt awful since hitting my head in the forest, and my mind was reeling.
Through the haze, however, I could still feel the energy of my surroundings. Somehow, I have this power, somehow now I could still feel so much around me, from the moss inside the bin growing on the old wood, to a whole manner of insects and insects, scurrying here and there, going about their usual business within the walls of the bin. Thinking through the past few hours, I came to the conclusion that this…’energy sensing’, or whatever it is, started when I climbed up in that tree. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. Granted, strange things had happened before, but nothing like this.
Gathering my courage, I decided to give in to this feeling, to test the power of these sensations, and opened my senses fully to the energy around me. My head started to spin, making me feel even more disoriented than when it had been hit. I felt like I was spinning out of control. I leaned on my side and violently vomited up all the contents of my stomach, which unfortunately totaled little more than stomach acid. This being the case, I was reduced to dry heaving for the duration of this episode.
As the dry heaves started to subside, my mind began to shut down of its own volition, dampening the feel of everything around me, involuntarily protecting my body from causing itself more harm. Desperately I clung to that sensation, that feeling of everything around me. So incredible was the feeling of power within me that, even though I feared it so, I never wanted to lose it.
As my feeling of self control slowly returned, my mind wandered to the staff and wand from the tree the night before. I felt that they were an important part of what was happening to me somehow, but I also knew I had lost them and would never be able to get them back. This was not the first time I had suffered head injuries, and I knew I would not be able to move properly for a couple of days. I also knew that the Dursleys would not let me out of their sights now.
Finally, I sighed in resignation; I would never get them back now. In an effort to get my mind off of the staff and wand, I once again concentrated on all of the energy around me, remembering that on the night in the tree the energy seemed to flow into me. With that thought I breathed in hard, attempting to concentrate on all the energy flowing around me. Unfortunately, in my mind the staff and wand still stood clearly, blocking my ability to focus properly. I knew I was near to passing out, my eyes drooping, my concentration slowly fading; because of this, the small ‘pop’ that resonated off the walls of the bin did nothing more than startle me a bit, causing me to snorting in a breath, disturbing my breathing pattern and making me open my eyes. Seeing nothing in the darkness, however, my eyes closed once again, my mind processing nothing as I drifted off into sleep for the fourth time that day.


The first thing that I noticed as I woke from my slumber was the total lack of feeling I was experiencing, from the loss of pain in my head and ribs, to the loss of my ‘energy sensing’ ability to my surroundings. Also, I was feeling a whole range of emotions spanning from confusion, disappointment, resentment, anger and fear. I felt confused by the fact that I could not feel the surroundings around me; it was incredibly frustrating, as I had just managed to accept this…power as my own, then seemed to lose it shortly afterwards. However, I was in no way confused as to how I had no feeling in my head and ribs; they were Vernon’s two favorite places to hit me, after all. I was just grateful that they were numb for now, even though I knew that this only promised pain in the days to come.
I was beginning to resent the power now that it seemed to have left me. How could it tease me so? I hungered for it now, though I was still strangely scared of it. So much was promised, so much that I had never had. My entire night had been filled with dreams of all the things I could do with such a great gift. One dream that stood out to me was quite frightening, for if it was true…
I was in the woodbin, lying down on my left side so the cut on the right side of my head would not have any pressure on it. Curled up into myself and clutching my ribs, one might have simply thought I was cuddling myself for warmth during the cold night, however, that was not the case. Actually, I was putting pressure to the whole of my ribcage, which might hurt but also eased the pressure on my lungs, allowing me to breathe more easily.
Suddenly, I noticed that, although there should be no light source in the woodbin, I could see my surroundings. Looking around, I quickly saw where the light was coming from. Somehow, all the insects and fungus, basically anything that was alive within the bin, was emanating a dull glow. The fungi almost seemed to ripple, while the insects seemed to be writhing in pain.
Scared that this could happen to me also, I momentarily forgot all about the pain in my ribs and sat up bolt straight, then using my newfound power to stretch my senses wide in an effort to feel out what the problem is. After a while, I started to become aware of the fact that the very life force of everything alive around me was leaving its hosts and flowing into…me?
Oh God! I was doing this; I was the evil menace that was sucking the life out of all these creatures. I felt disgusted with myself that I could do such a thing, even if it seemed to be involuntary. My eyes fully widened, I could see the light in the woodbin start to fade. With every passing moment, the bin got a little darker, and a bug or a fungus would drop dead. When the last bug, a spider, died, the bin went pitch black and with that I began to scream.
It was a crazy and frightening dream, not so much because all the insects died, but more due to the fact that my power was responsible for their deaths. I had drained the life from them. I began worrying about what might happen to people, people I knew. Though I do not like the Dursleys, not one little bit, I still would not wish for their deaths, especially at my own hands. Just thinking about the dream filled my mind so full of fear that I could not think of anything other than the danger I may represent to anyone who happens to be around me.
After a while, I leaned forward to a sitting position, but as I came upright, my vision began to spin once again and, with a groan, I fell back, but not before my hand shot out and tried to grab onto something in a vain attempt to keep from falling. Grasping something smooth, I deduced that I seemed to be holding a long stick of some kind, and it felt wooden. My breath hitched when I grabbed onto it… could it be my staff?
With a shaky laugh I flung the stick to the other end of the bin where I heard the familiar sounds of wood hitting wood combined with wood hitting metal. “I’m in a bloody woodbin, of course there’s wood in here you idiot!” I said to myself. Upon finishing this statement, the woodbin once again fell eerily silent.
With a deep exhale of breath I flopped back, letting my head hit the ground, sending sharp pains from my injury. How long I lay there for, I had no idea, just fiddling with the bark chips and splinters under my hands. Whenever my hand would move over a bug, however, I would quickly pull it back, not wanting to get bitten or scratched. This served to only make me think back to my dream however; it was strange how I could still remember it so vividly. For a time, I entertained the thought that it had actually happened, but shortly afterwards I shuddered slightly, desperately clutching to the belief that it really wasn’t so, because if it was, I wanted nothing at all to do with it. I did not want any type of power that could kill with a mere thought; it was just too evil, too sinister. In short, in no way would I want any part of myself to have that kind of capability.
As time passed by, I lay there thinking about the prospects of my seemingly delusional powers, imagining a great hidden community of people just like me. Considering the effects of my powers, I thought that an appropriate name for such a people could be feelers. Shortly afterwards, however, I decided that feelers did not sound quite mature enough, so after some more thought, going over all of the potential adventures I could possible have, I came up with the name Readers.
I had no idea what time it was but I could guess it was still before nine in the morning, since I had not yet been ordered to make the Dursleys breakfast. Usually I would have had to have it done before they woke, but since I was stuck in here, I would have to wait until someone came to get me. It would most likely be Uncle Vernon, and I could see clearly the length of dialog for such a retrieval in my mind’s eye.
“Get up, Boy! You have to make my breakfast!” I muttered under my breath in a falsely deep, rumbling voice. “Stupid! I had to walk to get you out, do you know how much less fat I will have now? Well Boy? Smack!” I snickered as I clapped my hands together. I knew I was going to be punished for a number of things this morning, number one on the list simply for being me, two for being a freak, three for getting hurt last night, four not making breakfast before they woke (even though it was there fault and they know it), and five being alive.
One might think this was a very strange and frightening list, but for once I was glad, for one this was a shorter list than most days. Here, I was not responsible for cleaning the cabin, so they could not lay that responsibility upon me. Also, throughout the duration of our stay here, I had not once seen Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon without some sort of alcoholic beverage in their hands; while this made them more of a danger to me, it also made it easier for me to evade their thoughts, as long as I stayed out of sight.
Dudley on the other hand was another matter all together; nowhere near as strong as Vernon, and not even half as vindictive as Petunia. Whatever his shortcomings may have been concerning my dear cousin, however, he more than made up for them with a combination of persistence and hate.
Bang!
The loud noise jerked me from my thoughts. I quickly decided that it was most likely Dudley and his friends, as another loud bang was heard and the side of the bin vibrated. Dudley and his friends continued to clobber the side of the bin for roughly ten minutes before they finally stopped. I could hear faint laughter through the metal of the bin, and it sounded like they were running away. I was uncertain as to why they left, because I knew that Dudley could keep up that racket for hours on end. There were only a few reasons why they would have stopped; either because his friends got bored, which was unlikely, or an adult came towards them, also unlikely, considering the giggles. That leaves the last, much less desirable option. Uncle Vernon.
As the word Vernon came into my mind, a sudden flash of painful, bright light erupted into the bin, and I found myself being dragged by my hair by the walrus himself. “What do you think you are doing freak? Sleeping through all hours of the day, making a ruckus so the whole forest can here you!” As Vernon was fuming, there was spittle flying from his lips and his head was starting to turn a violent red from lack of oxygen, due to scowling and yelling. “Get in there and make my breakfast before I get my hiking stick!” surprisingly enough I only got hit once, albeit a large back swing that struck me on the injured side of my head, apparently Uncle Vernon’s favored side. Even though it sent me tumbling to the ground, it was still only one hit, and I felt lucky not to have received a barrage of them.
Quickly getting to my feet with a nimbleness born from a great deal of practice, I rushed into the kitchen intent on making my Uncle’s breakfast as fast as I can. I was just getting out the skillet when a loud hoarse screech interrupted my progress.
“What are you doing in the kitchen like that boy?! I will not have you bleeding into my food; you will go to the bathroom right now and clean your self up.” Petunia’s mighty screech was like bloody nails along a chalkboard.
“Yes Aunt Petunia,” I answered in a monotone voice.
“Don’t you talk back to me!” she said. While not true, this statement was enough to draw Uncle Vernon into the room…punching first, asking questions later.
“Why you ungrateful little urchin!” It always seemed to me that uncle Vernon had to punctuate anything he said with some form of physical violence, and unfortunately, I was always the target. “We take you in! We give you food and water! We give you a place to sleep! We even take you on holiday with us! And how do you repay us? By talking back, you ungrateful boy!” I did not even have to listen to what Vernon was saying, for it was the same thing he always said as he was beating on me. Early on in my life, these statements got to me, but gradually, over time, I came to understand that these people were simply not right in the head.
“Get to the bathroom and clean yourself up you stupid boy! Oh, and go ahead and clean the rest of the room while your in there.” By this point my Uncle’s face had so much blood flushing to it, it was almost a perfect match to the red shirt I was wearing at the moment.
“Yes uncle Vernon.” My voice had a nasally quality to it and at first I feared that it might be broken, but then the familiar taste of mucus and blood reached my lips, and I realized it was just clogged from one of the beatings.
Walking dejectedly towards the rear of the cabin, I could hear the snickering coming from the boys’ room. Most likely they thought I was a weakling, that I could not stand up for myself; I knew, though, that if one of those boys was in my position they would be bawling their eyes out at the first punch.
Walking into the disgustingly dirty bathroom I let out a sigh and shook my head dejectedly. There were pinecones, dirt, grass, mud, and toilet paper scattered throughout the room, along with what most likely was last night’s leftovers and smears of human excrement on all the available surfaces. The Dursleys and Co. must have put in a mighty effort to get the bathroom this dirty; the pinecones seemingly would have been the hardest to get, for they would have had to go outside to retrieve them. Just then, however, I saw a tree limb filled with pinecones pressing against the bathroom window. Oh goodie, it seems that even nature has it in for me.
Walking over to the mirror I immediately noticed that it was covered in some sort of animal fat or grease-like substance, and the most I could see in it was a dark blur that I associated with my reflection. Turning on the tap in the sink, I looked down and saw that the inside of the sink seemed to be a cornucopia of different wastes. A spray of water hit me in the face, and upon noticing that the tap appeared to be shooting water in all directions, I quickly turned it back off. Looking up into it, I could see that it had apparently been blocked with toilet paper.
Pulling the clogged paper out of the tap, I started to use it to wipe down the mirror. Looking at all the rubbish around the small room, I gave a huge sigh and sat down on the toilet, only to immediately jump back up as I touched the wet seat.
Deciding to just hurry up and get it over with, I pulled open the window and started to hurl the pinecones outside to the base of the tree nearby. Once they were all outside, I started to pick up all the smaller rubbish and place it inside one of the garbage bags provided by my Aunt. With all the pinecones and general rubbish gone from the room, all that was left were the dirty surfaces.
An hour later I had finished scrubbing down all the surfaces, cleaning the toilet, shower, shelves, and the basin. Now that everything was clean, I went to the mirror to sneak a look at myself. As it was at home, while I was “cleaning”, I sneaked in several services for myself, drinking lots of clean water from the taps, taking a shower while cleaning the inside of it, luxuriating in the use of an actual toilet break, and cleaning my clothes along the way. Although my clothes had been rung out thoroughly, they were still fairly damp and a little bit uncomfortable across my skin, but they no longer had a grimy feel to them, and I felt infinitely better because of it.
Looking into the mirror, I saw that what ever type of bandaging the nurse had used to wrap up my head was gone, and I could therefore clearly see the pus oozing, bloody, festering wound on the right side of my head. Seeing the wound now, I hissed out a pained breath before turning on the tap and picking up some clean toilet paper.
Dampening the paper I started out by cleaning the wound and the hair around it. Most likely, the scabbing had broken open during my shower, and now I had to clean it up. Looking at the dirty wound I started to pick at some of the scabby bits to remove debris from it. After a while, having picked off half the scab and whimpered many muted protests of pain, the wound started flowing freely with fresh blood.
Picking up some clean dry toilet paper I pressed it firmly against the wound in a hope to staunch the bleeding. Looking over the bench and sink now, I steadfastly collected all the used toilet paper and deposited it in one of the rubbish bins. Giving the basin a wipe down to remove the traces of blood, I started to put all the cleaning supplies back into the bucket. Once I finished I sat quietly on the toilet still firmly pressing the make-shift bandage to my wounded head.
Gingerly removing the toilet paper from my head, I looked upon its surface and saw a large red stain in its center, but flipping it over I saw that the blood did not seep through to the other side. Folding the paper in half I once again pressed it too my head.
Another twenty minutes later I was ready to leave the once dirty bathroom, with a clean, albeit heavily bruised body, a clean wound, and a slightly soothed mind. Stepping out of the bathroom, before I even manage two steps, I was grabbed by the scruff of my neck by my uncle and thrown outside with an order.
“Get wood for a fire Boy!”
Walking over to my negative five star bedroom, I lifted up the woodbin’s lid and pushed it so it leant against the building wall and stayed open. Jumping into the bin, I began to pick up a few pieces of wood before yelping and dropping my load onto my foot. Startlingly, I saw a number of dead insects slide off my arm, making my skin crawl.
Shivering a little I picked a piece of wood and began to throw it outside of the bin to the forest floor near the cabin. Every now and then I would have to watch as dead insects fell from the wood as it was picked up from the pile.
I was beginning to get a bit jittery. Although I have lived with insects my whole life, I still found myself getting spooked, for even though I have seen lots of dead ones inside this bin, I also have yet to see any live ones. Seemingly beyond my control, my thoughts slowly drifted to the events that have been happening the past day or so; lightning strikes, funny feelings, appearing and disappearing sticks, and worst of all, strange dreams where I suck the energy out of all the life forms around me.
I was broken from my thoughts by a sharp pain in my hand; looking down at it a saw a large splinter wedge into my palm. Pulling it out at the same angle it went in my hand was once again laced with pain. Unfortunately, looking at my palm also turned my gaze so that I was looking down to the floor of the wood bin, the sight of which made me shriek. The entire floor was covered in dead insects.
Jumping out of the woodbin I started to back pedal, my mouth hanging open in continual shock and my eyes never leaving the bin. Around it was a ring of dead grass, giving a strange contrast to the deep green grass that I was now standing on. A sense of horror filled me completely as my mind was forced to make the connections between my dream and this reality.


With my knees pulled tightly to my chest, I stared blankly at the underneath of the stairs in my little cupboard, my mind racing, no longer able to remember how I got through the rest of the camping trip. The only coherent thought that seems to be passing through my brain is, ‘It was a dream, it had to be a dream…’
‘IT WAS ALL JUST A BLOODY DREAM!’