Title: Alive Again

Alternate Title: A Story Where I See How Many Ways There Are To Kill Harry Potter

Summary: Harry Potter is cursed. He just can't seem to die properly. A non-chronological story told in bits and pieces. Rated T. No pairings.


Chapter 1: Neglect

A four year old Harry Potter dug through the contents that were stored in the cupboard under the stairs at Number Four Privet Drive. He grabbed at items that tugged at his interest, tugging and tossing them to entertain his toddler mind. Few items held his interest for long as he looked to find something to play with. The dim light from the light bulb in the cupboard illuminated the various cleaning supplies shoved into a corner of the room. Despite this being the place where he slept, his aunt continued to store her cleaning supplies in his space.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway leading to the cupboard under the stairs. Harry startled as the bolt on the door slid open with a thunk and door suddenly swung open to reveal Aunt Petunia.

"Shoo," she said was she waived her nephew away from the cleaning supplies. A medium sized bottle of industrial bleach rested on her hip. She hefted it into her hands and shoved it into the corner with the rest of the cleaning supplies. "Stop making a mess in the cleaning supplies," she said as she frowned in the direction of her nephew. Harry remained silent as he watched her with wide green eyes, but he quickly nodded to show his understanding. With that, Petunia closed the door, slid the bolt back into place, and left.

As her footsteps faded away Harry scooted back over to the cleaning supplies with no intention of listening to his aunt. He was bored and the supplies were one of the few things in his small room that could entertain him. Small hands grabbed for the item closest to him-the bottle of bleach. He tugged it closer curious about the bottle his aunt had just left behind.

As Harry tugged at the white container, the improperly secured cap slipped off and clattered to the floor. Peering into the container, Harry noticed a clear liquid that looked like water. Had Aunt Petunia left a jug of water for him? He hadn't been given breakfast yet and he was awfully thirsty.

Without a second thought, the four year old hefted the container into his lap, put his mouth over the opening, and titled it so he could drink it. The liquid burned down his mouth and throat and he immediately tore his mouth away from the open, coughing. Harry coughed and wheezed as the burning spread to his chest and he spit up some of the clear burning liquid.

As he coughed and tried to clear the bleach from his system, his arms jerked knocking over the white container and spilling the bleach across the floor. As his coughing lessened, Harry rolled away from the spilled bleach and curled into a ball breathing heavily. Wheezing breaths echoed through the small, dimly lit cupboard as he tried to catch his breath. He wrapped his arms around his torso as his stomach began to ache. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes as he gagged and then vomited. Yellow stomach acid mixed with the clear bleach as he coughed it up onto the floor next to the spilled bleach.

Harry continued to struggle to breathe as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve, crawled to his bed and drifted into unconsciousness. The child's wheezing breaths became more and more shallow and his chest rose and fell slower and slower. Eventually, Harry stopped breathing and stillness crept through the room. Thirty seconds passed. Then a full minute. And another. Suddenly, Harry coughed, his chest contracting as his body desperately took in air. His body eased into sleep.

Later, Harry was awoken by the frantic shouting of his aunt as she scold him for the mess he made and sent him upstairs to bathe. When he later returned to his room, his aunt had removed all of the cleaning supplies from the cupboard under the stairs and cleaned the floor. Never had it occurred to Petunia that the bleach had done more than just make Harry sick.