(Author's Notes): Harry's fourth year was even more shit than canon, I'm sticking to the idea that the Dursley's were flat out abusive and Rowling downplayed things due to the series ultimately being young adult orientated, and I'm playing fast and loose with early to mid-aughts X-Men canon. Takes place during New Mutants Volume 2 issue #5. I know this is kind of a contrived coincidence to start the story, but I wanted to get things up and going here ASAP. All this chapter was written listening to Les Savy Fav's inches in case you're curious where some of my inspiration comes from.
Harry had taken to living on the streets far easier than he expected, especially in a place like New York City. Where he'd expected that finding things to eat and places to safely sleep free from other living things to be difficult, he'd had no difficulty living off the huge amount of fresh produce grocery stores threw out everyday and sleeping in subways and parking garages no one seemed to ever go in at night. He didn't need to steal or beg at all to live functionally for the last few months. Granted he wasn't sure if what he was doing was really living. Existing was a more appropriate term for his current condition.
He was starting to forget what it was like living like a "civilized" person as opposed to a homeless squatter. He'd had nothing approximating a home cooked meal in his time on the streets, a bed of newspapers was the closest he'd had to a bed, and he'd taken to talking to himself to remember how to act human. He hadn't even had a shower in months! It was a major mystery how he wasn't causing people to drop dead from his stench now, it might have something to do with his magic, though he wasn't sure. He didn't have a wand anymore, though he was able to will accidental magic into happening. Making it not so accidental magic he supposed. Not that he really cared whether he had magic anymore. Magic was the reason for all his problems.
If he was honest though, he wanted to live like this. This was easy, just existing and nothing else. There was no expectations or standards for him to meet. People didn't know him by the scar on his forehead and acted he was some sort of hero. He wasn't even treated like "Just Harry" like he'd wanted for so long. No one treated him like anything to be honest. It helped he'd spoken to the fewest people he possibly could, able to count the number of conversations he'd had on his fingers alone, with a few to spare. Though most of those hadn't been so much as conversations as the other party being concerned for him as he tryed to get away as fast as he could without arousing suspicion.
It's not that he didn't appreciate someone taking an interest in him. He just…couldn't let someone get involved again. That and he didn't want anyone to start investigating him and his past. The fact that no one from Hogwarts or any Death Eaters had come for him meant that he wasn't able to be found by them. The fact that he hadn't been sent any passive aggressive letters about his accidental magic shenanigans lead more credence to that. When he'd been in that graveyard all he wanted was to go somewhere that no one from the magical world would bother him again. He was almost convinced now that was exactly where he wound up, especially since he'd never heard of Mutants or super heroes that apparently lived all over the world back in England. He'd read about them in the newspapers he'd been sleeping on. His Uncle would have never shut up about the "freakishness" of the world if there were such things. He wasn't a man that could ignore such an offense to his "normal sensibilities". Harry had the scars to prove it after all.
He was perfectly fine as he was now, free from anybody or anyone, free from the scar on his head, free from England. Free to continue to curl up in the pile of newspapers he'd stacked in the corner of a hotel's parking garage, near the door to a stairwell that connected to the hotel and a car that had one of those yellow locks he'd seen on cars near parking meters. The perfect place in case someone found him, which there was little chance of happening. Soon he'd be asleep, then he would wake-up, scrounge for food, come back here or find another place to sleep, then repeat. A routine he didn't have any interest in breaking.
Not too long after Harry had fallen asleep a huge crash came from behind the stairwell quickly followed by four teenagers running out into the garage. This was accompanied by several gun-toting people in masks and body armor running towards the teenagers. A part of Harry felt the immediate need to leap into action, to help, a part Harry thought had died. Just as the urge to help almost undid the conditioning three and a half months alone on the streets had done to Harry, the group of kids showed they were more than capable of fending for themselves. One of them, a tan-skinned girl with long brown hair, began to levitate as the wind started to blow all around her before she charged at one of the approaching masked persons. Another, tall and black, yelled at the others to run before mentioning he'd be fine as people there knew how to fight. The other two, a blonde girl and a brown-Haired boy Harry believed was "Goth" based on his clothing and piercings, ran in another direction before being stopped by more mask wearers who took the chance to fire at them. Harry instantly snapped away from the urge to help and instead crawled under the neighboring car, deciding to wait for his chance to dive into the stairwell and flee.
The teens, who he assumed were mutants, seemed to be doing well, the blonde-haired girl somehow got the masked people to run away screaming from her. Then he noticed that the "Goth" one, he was fairly certain he was "Goth" as he matched a description of "Goth" Harry had read from his Newspaper bed one night, had ran away too and was pressed up against the wall removing one of his glove and screaming for the girl to stop using her powers. Harry suddenly found himself rolling from under the car and running towards the girl, as just behind her was a man with a blade extending from his wrist. The desire to help had been revived and Harry ran as fast as he could towards the man, feeling something rise inside himself, something that he was becoming more and more familiar with. Just as the man was about to grab the girl Harry forced out the feeling with a scream, a blast of kinetic force blindsiding the man and sending him careening into a concrete support pillar. All four of the teens and the remaining people in armor turned and stared at Harry, save for one of the people in armor, who's helmet had been knocked off revealing a head of blonde hair and a pierced eyebrow, who took the opportunity to run into the stairwell. Harry made note of him as he turned away from the two staring at him, trying to decide whether to run or talk his way out of the mess he'd just gotten himself in.
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Kevin Ford and Laurie Collins stared at the person who'd just saved the two of them, one from possible death and the other from hurting one of his only friends, a short and scrawny boy of indeterminate age dressed in dirt covered rags with a wild mop of black hair down to his chin. He was wearing glasses held together by tape and more than a little luck in front of his large green eyes that almost seemed to be glowing with how bright they were.
The boy lowered his hands and wrapped them around his elbows as he turned to stare at the floor, almost as if he wanted to disappear. Sofia Mantega and David Alleyne ran to join Kevin and Laurie in staring at Harry closely and the people in armor took the opportunity to start running before most of them suddenly froze in place, just as two women entered the garage and approached the gathered group of kids. The four quickly realized it was Dani and Shan, the two women who were chaperoning their supposed field trip to New York City which had quickly taken a turn for the worst.
The boy turned to face all of them with an odd expression but quickly reverted to staring at the ground before speaking in a voice that was dry and hoarse, as if he'd barely spoken in months. "I don't suppose there's any chance of you all forgetting about this completely and letting me go back to my newspapers is there?" They all quickly noticed he had an English accent, making him that much more mysterious.
Dani responded with a warm smile on her face as she took a step closer, "Maybe we can. Maybe we can't. But first, why don't tell you us your name."
The boy looked up at her through the curtain of black hair that was covering his bespectacled face, torn between smiling back or just trying to maintain a neutral expression, leading to him wearing an awkward grimace as he spoke in his raspy excuse for a voice, "Harry. Just Harry."
Dani stepped forward and put an arm on his shoulder as she spoke, "Well Just Harry, just let us clean up this mess here and then we'll see about maybe forgetting you. Or not."
Harry quickly realized there was no chance he was going back to his pile of newspapers and more than likely was going to be dragged back into the world of living and not just existing. The part of him that had driven him to intervene in the mess he'd just encountered was excited at the prospect of actually talking to people again and not just having newsprint for company by choice. The rest of him, the part that retreated from being a normal human being, as normal as he could be while living on the streets at least, was more excited at the idea of taking a shower again and honestly wasn't looking forward to relearning the rules of human interaction he forgot on purpose.
(Author's note): More coming soon.
