He was a freak. It was obvious. Mother and Father always insisted on it. It was true.
So he treated him as he deserved, for all his freakish ways. The freak hated him, of course. So what? Nobody cares about the feelings of some freakish thing as he was. His parents were too good to have him, and he should be grateful. But he wasn't, oh no. He always had this expression in his face, this air of victimism. Dudley hated it, so he punched it out as soon as he could.
Everybody hated to discover that he was, indeed, a monster: that strange magical school he attended made him different, scariest, dangerous. All of sudden, Dudley couldn't touch him anymore. He felt impotent. He had never felt like this before.
Years went by. His fury augmented. He went all tall and muscle-bound and became a bull. Nobody stood on his way, but the face of the freak was still stood on this displeasure expression, as if talking to Dudley was a waste of time. Why wasn't he grateful? He lived in his house, in a room that could have been his own, he wore his old clothes… Everything that was normal on him, it was his. But the freak's eyes expressed only disgust, never gratefulness, never, never…
And then, they came. This things that were invisible, but there. There were monsters outside, real monster, not that little, bad-tempered freak on the cupboard. Monsters that came and robed you your happiness, hopefulness, life… Even your soul.
And Harry saved him.
When the freak's eyes turned to see him, it was a reproach. He never learned how to react to novelties, so he didn't. But inside him, the monster wasn't Harry anymore. The monsters were real, terrific. The freak was his savior, this tiny little boy that has saved his muscular cousin.
Harry… Not the freak, not the monster, not the thing. Harry. He had saved his life. All of sudden, everything he has done felt wrong, as if every oddity, every wrongness that the Freak has had was now transfered to himself. He wanted to change, but he…
He didn't know how.
No one told him that Harry wasn't coming when they had to leave the house. Nobody told him anything that had sense. He could vaguely understand that the boy didn't want to come with them… But in hearing Harry's word he felt every frustration he had come to be familiar with. He knew that he had to react.
"I don't think you're a waste of space", he said, not knowing where this words came from.
And for the first time, he saw it: his cousin's face showed surprise, almost affection, erasing all the indifference and loathing.
He went to him and offered his hand.
That was the last time he saw the freak, years ago.
Sometimes he misses him… But he knows that he would not trade his presence for that short-lived expression of wonder that made shine his green eyes in the most warm way he had ever seen till then..
