Chapter Text
Boy was in pain. He didn’t know what he had done this time, but it must have been something bad (bad bad bad). Uncle Vernon had been so very angry with him when he came home from work this evening. Boy had been tending to Aunt Petunia’s bushes in the garden when he heard the front door slam shut, and the heavy footsteps of his uncle down stomping through the house. The rest of that evening was a bit of a blur for Boy. The next he remembered he was back in his cupboard under the stairs with a lot more pain than usual. Uncle must have broken more ribs this time. He knew he would be okay, he always was, but that didn’t stop the tears that were rolling down his cheeks, burning him with the humiliation of his weakness (freaks shouldn’t cry).
Boy was 10, at least he thought he was. His relatives never celebrated his birthday but the other night he heard his Auntand Uncle shouting about him in the kitchen. “The boy is 11 soon, Vernon! You know that they are coming for him. We knew this day was coming.” his Aunt had screeched, Boy had to wince as her voice rattled through his eardrums. “He can’t leave with them! We raised him! We gave him the food off our table, not them!” Boy was confused about Uncle Vernon’s response... what food did they give him? The stale bread barely kept him awake for a day, let alone sustain him enough for a week. “You know its not that easy, Vernon. They have their freaky ways, he will be leaving come his 11thbirthday,” Petunia took a deep breath and lowered her voice. Boy had to strain his ears to be able to hear, “Think of Dudley, what if they hurt him? We have to protect our family first. My sister left him with us until he was 11, there is nothing we can do.”
Boy didn’t listen to the rest of it (freaks shouldn’t eavesdrop), he was too focused on his Aunt mentioning her sister. Boy thought Aunt Petunia’s sister was dead… his mum. Aunt never spoke of her to him, only letting him know that his parents were drunks and didn’t want him anymore, and then they got themselves killed while drink driving. He was told he was too freaky for anyone to love him… too misbehaved, even for such low lives like his Mum and Dad.
That conversation was a few days ago now, but the reminder of how unwanted he was left its mark. As he tried to roll over to face the wall, a twinge of pain rocketed down his right chest, knocking the air from him. He had to put a hand over his mouth to keep his shout of pain in. He wasn’t allowed to wake his relatives, or his uncle would ‘give him something to cry about’. Boy never understood what that meant, as surely that would be why he was crying in the first place. He tried not to think too hard on it, it was always Boy’s fault he had to be punished. He was a very bad child.
Boy woke to the sound of his aunt banging on his cupboard door, “Get up, Boy, your uncle and cousin need breakfast on the table in 30 minutes.” Boy took a moment to stretch out his limbs and see if there was any remaining pain from the previous night. He noted that he had mostly healed but his ribs were still a bit tender if he moved too quickly. Boy never questioned why he always healed so quickly; it was just yet another freaky thing about him. Steeling himself for another day with the Dursley’s, he swiftly replied “Yes, Aunt Petunia,” before dragging himself into the kitchen.
“Bacon is cooking on the hob, so try and keep it from burning. Get the toast started as well,” Aunt Petunia snapped.
“Yes, Aunt Petunia.”
Boy never understood how one person could eat so much food. Both Uncle Vernon and Dudley ate seven rashers of bacon each, with three slices of toast each morning. Petunia would use the excuse that they were growing men and needed to have a good hearty meal to start the day, but Boy always thought that it was a bit much considering neither of them did much during the day. The more he sat contemplating his relatives eating habits the less focused he became on the bacon. A slap around the back of his head from his Aunt brought him back to reality, ‘Concentrate, Boy! The bacon will burn!” He could feel her glaring at the back of his head, damn it he knew better than to get distracted, (freaks keep their heads down and thoughts to a minimum).
After finally successfully cooking breakfast with no more incidents, the familiar sound of Vernon and Dudley coming down the stairs could be heard. Boy began to hunch in on himself while he plated the meals up and set them on the table, he didn’t know what happened last night for him to get the beating he did, but he didn’t want to have to deal with any remaining anger (head down, don’t look up).
“There’s my special boy, breakfast is on the table Dudders,” Petunia pinched Dudley’s cheeks in a loving manner before ushering him to the table. Vernon slumped in through the door after Dudley, each step thundering through Boy’s head as he stood as still as he could next to the kitchen counter. Thankfully, Vernon didn’t acknowledge Boy and instead went to the table to immediately shovel food into his mouth as if it was his last meal.
Boy stood in envy as he watched the Dursley’s devour their breakfast, his stomach was beginning to twinge in hunger, his last slice of bread was 3 days ago so he was hoping he would get some today (stop expecting food, you deserve nothing).
Boy’s day continued in a similar manner to yesterday, he did the washing and hung it out to dry; polished all the picture frames, hoovered the house, mowed the lawn and then retuned in the evening to finish tending to Petunia’s flowers. He had been left alone for most of the day, it was the summer holidays so neither him nor Dudley had been at school. Dudley could usually be found watching telly or playing video games up in his room. Boy tried to not let the resentment for his cousin to bubble up to the surface. Dudley always got what he wanted when he asked for it, he was never withheld food. Why did Boy have to be so bad, why was he so useless (freak freak freak).
Boy hadn’t thought any further on the conversation he had heard from his Aunt and Uncle the other day, not a thought, until he found he self actually sat at the dinner table with Petunia and Vernon facing him. If the shock from being allowed to sit on the furniture hadn’t got to him, having the full attention of the people in front of him definitely was. He rapidly fired through his memories trying to work out if he had done something wrong, but that wouldn’t make sense because why would he be allowed to sit at the table if he had been bad. He decided the best course of action would be to wait it out and see what they wanted and why they looked so serious.
“Harry –”
If Boy could have heard screeching tires in his head, they would be playing now. Harry? Who was Harry?
“Harry, your Uncle and I need to discuss something important with you. Your parents will be coming to collect you this evening.”
Boy thought this must be a joke, they must be trying to catch him out. “Umm, my parents are dead.” He tried to make himself sound confident, more confident than he felt at least.
“They are not, they dumped you on our doorstep when you were a baby. Gave us no choice in the matter even. We were told by that head... freaky person that we must keep you here until the night of your 11th birthday and then you’d be taken back,” Petunia looked at him as if he was an idiot for not knowing.
Boy didn’t know what to think, everything he knew about his parents seemed to be a lie, minus the part where they didn’t want him, evidently 11 years ago they indeed did not want him. “Of course, your uncle and I expect you to keep what happened in this house to yourself. Not a soul shall hear about your punishments.”
Vernon sat up straighter, “Mark my words Boy, if you so much as whisper it to a wall, I shall know and I shall make your life a living hell.” Boy thought that was rather ironic considering his life already felt like a living hell but then again, he hadn’t known anything different, maybe other children were as bad as him and received the same punishments. “Yes, Uncle Vernon. I won’t say a word to anyone, Boy will be good.”
“Your name is Harry; you should do well to remember that.” Petunia barked back at him. Bo- Harry stared in shock at his Aunt and Uncle. He wasn’t called Boy. B – Harry had only ever known himself as Boy, it scared him to think that he would need to answer to another name now, what if he messed up? Would his Uncle know? Harry could feel the beginnings of a panic attack start to settle around his shoulders like a blanket, his breath began to come out fast and shallow. Smack. “Pull yourself together Boy, we can’t have you in this state when your parents arrive.” Harry sat still with his stinging cheek, of course, his parents were coming, he couldn’t behave all freakishly like that again.
Vernon then stood up from the table, making it shift a bit as he didn’t pull his chair out all the way, “Go to your cupboard and wait until we call you out, until then do nothing. You aren’t to be taking anything from your room apart from the clothes on your back. We have done enough for you; you’ll be stealing from us no more.” With that Vernon pounded away back towards the living room to watch the telly with Dudley. Petunia gave him a sharp look before shoving a stale piece of bread in his hands and shooing him back into the cupboard. Harry didn’t know how to control his thoughts, so he instead steadily ate his slice of bread, being careful not to eat too quickly in fear of upsetting his stomach; and then curling up into a little ball and attempting to think of nothing.
Roughly an hour later, as far as Harry could tell, time always blurs when he is in his cupboard, the doorbell rings followed by three knocks on the door. Petunia’s delicate footsteps came down the hallway and stopped outside his cupboard. The sound of the latch lifting echoed through the darkness. Petunia’s whispers came through quick and fast, “Get into the living room quickly, sit on the sofa, don’t say a word.” Harry quickly complied while his Aunt continued down the hallway to answer the door. He could hear muffled voices as they came back towards the living room before the door swung open and in came a man and a woman. The woman had flaming red hair and eyes as green as his, while the man looked almost identical to him even down to the round glasses. So, these were his parents… these were the people who were meant to love him the most and instead abandoned him to the Dursley’s. He could feel the tears start to brim in the back of his eyes, they started to blur his vision, but he tried his hardest to keep them in. He could see Vernon stood behind his parents glaring at him, so he had to make sure he looked put together. He promised he wouldn’t be bad (you are bad though).
The red-haired woman, his mother, stepped forward, “Oh Harry my darling! Look at you, you’re all grown up! I’m so happy to see you!” Harry could see that she was going to try and embrace him so quickly flinched back before she reached him. A wave of sadness crossed her face, but she managed to school it quickly and return back to the man, his father.
“So? What are you waiting for? Take the boy and be gone,” Vernon piped up from behind.
“Right uhh, yes of course. Harry, my name is Lily and this here next to me is James. We are your parents, and we are here to take you home.”
Harry didn’t move to speak; he was barely holding himself together and he didn’t think he would be able to respond without doing something freakish like cry. Lily seemed uncomfortable and looked to Petunia for help. “Does he speak?”
“Yes of course the boy speaks,” his Aunt gave him a stern look and Harry immediately jumped into action, “Hello, ma’am.” Petunia still looked displeased which sent waves of shame up Harry’s back. Of course he’d mess this up, he messes everything up. He could feel the urge to apologise to his Aunt bubble up his throat but from the look he was receiving from both her and his Uncle, he thought maybe silence would be preferred. He tried to muster up a smile for Lily and James but from the look on their faces it must have come across very pained.
James had still remained silent since entering the living room, he seemed to be judging every corner of the room, including the people in it. Harry began to feel very self conscious of his small frame and malnourished body so attempted to readjust his oversized hand me down shirt.
“Well then, Harry, I think we should head off. Your brother is waiting at home to meet you, he’s been so excited, as have the rest of us. We should leave your Aunt and Uncle in peace.”
“Yes! Be gone! And we don’t want any more of your kind in this house ever again.” Lily’s eyes shone with an unknown emotion as she listened to Petunia’s harsh worlds. Silence ensued around the room until a soft voice spoke up, “I have a brother…?” Harry was feeling even more betrayed by his family the longer they spoke. First his parents were actually alive, second, they had chosen to abandon him as a baby instead of raising him themselves and now three, he had a brother. A brother no one had even mentioned for 11 years. A friend he could have had but didn’t.
“Oh yes! Charles, or we call him Charlie, he’s one year older than you! He will be so happy when he finally gets to meet you. How about we head home and everything can get explained to you better. I’m sure you’re very confused.” Harry’s eyes softened as he listened to his mother speak, she seemed very gentle and willing to explain everything, so maybe he would give her the benefit of the doubt. His father he was still unsure about, but maybe this would all work out in the end, and he will finally have the family he craves.