I took a deep shuddering breath, revelling in the feeling of my lungs expanding. I refused to open my eyes as I concentrated on the feeling of breathing. How I was breathing, I had no idea. I had thought it the end. It took a piercing moment to focus on anything else, but once I did, I felt weak. Extremely weak.
A stinging from my arm caught my attention next and I tried to ignore it, but the more I ignored, the worse it felt. Regretfully opening my eyes, I was surprised to find it hard to see. My vision coming out in a blur. I could still make out details, but nothing like I was used to.
My eyes crossed as I focused on a black dot a couple inches from my face. I could make out tiny legs and it didn't take me long to realize it was a spider. I shifted slightly to gain purchase and rose the few inches to the creature. I felt it scramble on my nose and I traced it as far as I could on it's journey to my forehead.
I gave another shaky breath before deciding to observe my surroundings. I had no idea what was going on and reluctant to draw conclusions. The last scene before this had been my death, but the pain and sweat on my brow said otherwise.
It was dark whereever I was, with only a few strands of light peaking through the wall. With the help of the light, I could also see that the space was incredibly small. A small mattress accompanied very few belongings. A small lamp sat to my left on the floor. I made to turn it on, but a sharp pain from my arm stopped me. Frowning, I turned my attention to my arm. I could tell I was delirious but not even that stopped a sharp intake. My arm was small and definitely not my own. The arm was also clearly broken with a sharp fragment of bone sticking out. The coloring indicated some festering.
"What the…" I had to stop myself from speaking further, not recognizing my voice. It was high pitched and had an accent. It sounded British, but it was hard to tell with my muddled mind. Clearly I was suffering from a fever. From an infection, most likely.
I plopped my head back down in resignation, done with my inspection. Come back from the dead, only to die again. It was a sick kind of joke.
Words on the ceiling stopped my depression and I had to prop my self again to read them. It wasn't too difficult with the ceiling being only feet away. The fact that the words were scratched into the wood told me this body has been here for longer than I'd like.
"I am here." I read out, pausing momentarily to adjust to my new voice. High pitched, weak, feeble… I could hear the death creeping through.
"I am not a freak."
"I exist." I stopped reading aloud when I heard the stomping of feet above me. My eyes locked on the entrance to the room. The door too small for anyone but a child to enter. I had to stop myself from calling out when I heard the steps reach me. Thinking about the situation, there wasn't much that made sense, but the person on the other side is most likely not friendly. It screamed of a kidnapping to me, but there was a million other scenarios that played in my mind.
"Boy, where is our breakfast?!" A man's voice sounded out from beyond the door. I gave a feeble grunt before replying.
"I am sick, sir." I strained out, trying to hide my fear. Even talking hurt.
I heard the man give a grunt before wrenching the door open. I couldn't make out the face before I saw a large hand reach in. I cried in pain as his hand wrapped around my arm and yanked me out. I fell to the floor, too weak to resist or stand. Tears pricked from my eyes and the world was spinning. While dry heaving, I felt the man pull me up and raise my arm, ignoring my cry of pain.
"Petunia!" The man bellowed. I had yet to even see the man, but I was hesitant to look at him. I could see the large belly from the low angle I was looking, though.
Another shuffle of feet later, another person joined us. I had heard her screeching on the way down and already knew there was no help coming. I just couldn't understand the situation at all and wasn't looking forward to finding out.
"What is it, Vernon?" She asked when she arrived. The newly named Vernon pulled my arm up to show her and I gritted my teeth to not make a sound. The names sounded extemely familiar, though, so I chanced a glance at their faces. Luckily, the woman was busy looking at my arm and I could see her paling, which made her looks even worse. She was a thin woman with thin features, and scraggly blonde hair draped down from her head. Her appearance reminded me somewhat of a horse and somehow unnatural. Vernon, as he was called, was a walrus of a man and the only interesting feature was his mustache. He wasn't ugly, just obese, but I still found it hard to look at him.
"...well, boy?!" Vernon interrupted my thoughts. My fever was worse than I thought. It was hard to even think.
"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't hear you."
I watched as the man's face turn red and flinched back. He let out a huff and the color drained. He turned from me back to the horse.
"Patch him up, Pet. We're not taking him to the hospital. It's not worth the money." The man sighed. "But… get some medicine for it. I don't want to find out what the other freaks would do if he were to die." My head snapped around at the word freak. Vernon, Petunia, freak…
"Harry Potter…" I whispered, before my breath caught in my throat. I could feel myself being lifted, but it was hard to perceive around me. My breath kept speeding up until my consciousness faded.
-oo0o0oo-
It was dark all around me. I was strangely calm and I could tell I was in some sort of dream.
"...are you here to help me?" A childish voice sounded out. I immediately turned to the source and found a child just in front of me. I only didn't see him because of the height difference. I'm in my original body, I minutely realized before speaking.
"I don't know… what do you need help with?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. I took in his appearance. A child that looked so hurt, so alone. Bruises covered his body and he was way too skinny. It was a saddening sight and one I was all too fimiliar with. His features definitely were the same as described in the books… Harry Potter. Scraggily black hair with piercing green eyes.
The boy looked down and seemed to struggle to speak. I knelt and stayed quiet, waiting.
"Can you take me away? As far away as possible?" He asked. I considered the child for a second before a voice broke me from it. It sounded feminine but too far to make out what was being said. I took a glance out to the expanse of darkness. I didn't see anything.
"I suppose it depends. I don't understand enough of what's going on to legitimately help." The child's eyes widened and tears threatened to spill. I took a cautious move forward and slowly wrapped my arms around him.
"I will help however I can, but this feels like a fever dream. Can you…" I was interrupted once more by the female voice, but this time I could understand it. 'Harry.'
I let my eyes move to the source and saw a glow of yellow light in the distance. I couldn't make out details to what it was, but it sounded affectionate if anything. I looked between the child and light before coming to a decision. Standing, I held out my hand for the child, patiently waiting. It took a moment, but eventually Harry hesitantly grabbed it. I nodded to him.
"Follow me."
The trip to the glow wasn't especially long, but also not short. It was honestly hard to keep track of time, but once we got near, I knew I made the right decision. First, red hear came into view, than details started to appear. I knew who it was.
"Miss Potter." I said with a nod. She smiled a tearful smile, too choked up to speak or even look at me. Her focus entirely on her son. The child looked confusingly between us, before I gave him a gentle push to the woman.
"Harry, meet your mother."
I heard him take a sharp intake of breath before being frozen in place. Lily crouched down and opened her arms wide. It didn't take but a moment for the child to rush into her embrace. It was a tearful reunion that sadly didn't last long. I could feel some kind of pull, and by the expression on Lily's face, she did too. She frowned before turning to me.
"Do you understand what is happening?"
"I have no clue." I replied shaking my head.
"I don't have much longer, but a decision needs to be made." She said, her eyes taking a hard glint. "My child has died… my baby boy was killed by those…" She stopped just short of what she was about to say, the reminder of her son being there stopping her. She took a deep breathe before continuing. "I don't know who you are, or where you came from, but I understand that you've somehow taken his body. Did you do that or were you forced somehow?"
"I'm… not sure. By all accounts, I should be dead. I only woke to pain and confusion. I'm sorry if that's not helpful."
She shook her head in response, her expression softening. I couldn't help but be distracted from her beauty.
"No, I'm sorry. I had to be sure. How did you die? I don't understand what you meant by that."
I smiled ruefully, thinking on how to answer. This whole experience is so surreal, I couldn't even begin to process it.
"I'd… rather not say. I will say that if anyone can understand your child, I can." We both moved our gazes to the child held on her hip. He looked so happy, so content. A spark of jealousy came, but it quickly went. I had stopped being jealous ages ago, so it confused me where it came from. The woman's eyes started to glisten as she seemed to understand something.
"So you are being thrown back in the same situation?" Her voice came out hoarse, but clear. I shook my head.
"It was a long time ago... So, I'm going back?"
She nodded.
"Just my luck, I suppose." I said with a sigh. "Don't worry. I know how to handle it now. Somewhat." I was going to say more, but she started to move towards me. I watched her cautiously as she moved an arm around me. I stiffened at the contact, but held true with the reminder that she was a good person and… dead. Can't forget the dead part. I was surprised at how real it felt though and I soon gravitated to the warmth.
"You know you're about my age, right?" I asked with a chuckle. She still didn't pull away, but I could hear a wonderful laugh from my shoulder.
"You are taking the burden of my child. You will be carrying on his name. I may not know you, but I could tell instantly that you're a good person. Welcome to the family, Harry Potter the Second." She froze as if remembering something. "What is your actual name?" She asked while pulling away. Her hand remained on my shoulder. I appreciated the warmth.
"Oh, right. I'm Evan Zunich." I said as if just remembering myself. She chuckled.
Harry just kept his head on her shoulder through the interaction and it made me wonder how he felt about this wierd situation. Lily noticed my gaze.
"He will be joining his father and me now. No matter how I wish it otherwise. He deserved to live." Her smile turned sad. "I won't pretend to know what will happen, but please live… live for him. I know it may be selfish of me to ask, but you might just find a reason for yourself if you continue forward."
"I will try." I gave after a moment of thought.
Another pull came, but this time stronger and by the expression on Lily's face, I could tell it was time. My normally expressionless face came up to a smile. Well, the best smile I knew how to perform.
"Go. I will be fine."
Her eyes held pity, before she resolutely nodded and turned.
"Goodbye, Evan." She said as she faded into the darkness. My vision followed soon after.
-oo0o0oo-
I awoke sputtering up liquid and it took a second to reorientate. Petunia stood over me, a cup of water being poured into my mouth. It would have been reassuring if her face wasn't set in a scowl.
"Drink, freak." She said snidely. Not wishing for confrontation, I drank, wishing she'd slow down. It didn't take long after to succumb to sleep.
-oo0o0oo-
Days turned to weeks as I struggled through my infection. By the third week, I was tired of it. These people should of brought me to a doctor by now, but needlessly prolonged the suffering. Their fear of muggle law must be worse than their fear of Wizards.
It took having a more lucid day to think up a solution. Magic, of course. Problem being, I had no idea how to broach the subject. I couldn't remember if the books had ever gone into detail on how it felt, and trying random things sounded dangerous in a way.
My own hesistance evaporated with the sting of pain from my arm. So I took the plung, closing my eyes and trying to feel this magic stuff. It actually didn't take long to find the inferno that blazed in my consciousness. It made me briefly excited that I seemed to hold such an amount to magic, before I calmed and focused on the task.
I tried to remember any piece of literature that had explainations of using magic before compiling a list in my head. I had to take a brief stop to groan in pain before continuing.
The answer had been rather simple. There was no commands or complex formula. Just wishing, or more than likely, intent. I had a flash of it actually being mentioned in the book and wished I remembered that detail earlier.
I followed the movement of the piece of bandage I made float before losing concentration. It fell. Ok… so concentrating is important also.
Next, I set about hypnotizing myself with a mantra. I want to heal my infection. I want to heal my body. The general idea never changed from healing, but I felt the need to be more specific.
With my eyes closed, I could almost feel what was attacking my body and I directed my magic to remove it. The change was instaneous and I felt a rush of excitement that it had actually worked.
My eyes open and movement restored, I examined my arm. The bandages were almost too gross to touch, but my need to see my arm overrode my reluctance. I tossed them aside and lifted my arm.
There still was a large gash, but the coloration looked relatively healthy. I had to wonder why bone wasn't sticking out any longer, before a flash of a painful memory reminded me why. Petunia's poor attempt at being a doctor. I hissed under my breath in anger. These people are actually vile, not to mention murderers. Whether it was intentional or not didn't matter. Even if a child did survive the wound, the emotion trauma was basically a sentence to life time suffering anyway. It's almost a mercy to let them die by that point. Well, that's not necessarily true. It depends on the circumstances mostly, but when I reached my 20's I certainly wished they had just killed me.
I shook off my anger, my own thoughts not coherent even to me. I glanced around the room they seemed to place me in. I was in a futon of some kind and a litter of broken toys laid around me. I had to wonder what was the point of this room, but figured it didn't matter. Another sting of pain reminded me that I'm still not healed, despite getting rid of the infection. I shot the offender an annoyed glare, almost calling upon the mystic energy before I froze.
It didn't sound like a good idea to just mend the bone. Sounded like a good way to add or subtract inches off. I took a glance around for inspiration before the simple solution hit me. Some of the earlier ones were sort of embarassing.
I rolled over on my belly, avoiding contact with my broken arm. I gently laid it on the ground, forearm and palms up, hoping that the ground was level. Not feeling satisfied, I tried to straighten it as gently as possible.
Once it passed the eye test, I was still wary, but I shrugged it off. I can only rely on myself right now. I gritted my teeth and hovered my hand above the wound. With a silent yell, I pressed down. It was alot more painful then expected and I almost ruined the work from before. I persevered though, and was left panting. The bone should be as straight as possible, but I'd prefer a brace. Sadly, I don't have one.
I concentrated on my magic, closing my eyes. Mend the bone. Mend the bone. I mantra'd with my focus on my injured arm.
The feeling of bone knitting together was almost like nails to a chalk board with how uncomfortable it was, but soon it ended. I examined the arm and it seemed to be in working order, but I hope to find an actual healer later.
After magically closing the open wound, I felt substantially better. Even lightly slapping my arm only brought dull pain. Nothing like the gut wrenching from before.
I sat up and took a look through the window. It was dark, so I felt relatively safe trying to stand. The task turned out to be more difficult than I thought it'd be, but I managed to get myself up with some support of the shelfs nearby. Of course, I had to still hold them once finally up, but I revelled in the freedom.
Ok, how do I get out of this mess? What do I do? The questions just kept piling and I had to stop myself from getting depressed. I can't stay here, that's for certain. I suffered through this once, no need for a second.
I sat back down to plan how to escape and hopefully how to live. Going by the original storyline sounded like a pain, but I also wasn't sure I could escape, nor if I wanted to. Voldemort will most likely be involved in my life regardless of what I do. It's guaranteed with the scar. Should I try to find a way to remove it? Maybe a cursebreaker?
It sounded as solid a plan as any, but I'd still have to enter the Wizarding World. I need way more information. Somehow I doubt how I healed myself to be common. It could be an advantage, but I'd need to research how rare it is. Or, it could just be Main Character powers coming to bare. It's hard to say.
One thing for certain is that I need to find a way to escape this house and get to Diagon Alley. I know Potter has a trust vault, so I should have money to support myself. Surveillance may be a problem though. I'm aware of the neighbor, but if there's some kind of spell to track on me I'm screwed. I frowned.
"Maybe I can check myself. Or just mass remove external attachments like trackers and such." I mumbled.
I decided to give it a try and directed my magic to remove ways to track me. It took a lot of concentration, but I believe I pulled it off. If only because I felt the shattering of something. With the shatter, though, I started to panic.
"Shit, that'll be notice and they'll come." I wildly looked around, hoping for an escape plan, before settling in using magic once again. I, as quickly as possible, approached the window, half dragging to view out it. I focused in on a spot as far as possible, before concentrating. Please work.
I heard a call behind me, before feeling like I was sucked into a tube.
"Harry!"
-oo0o0oo-
I landed with a thud and groaned loadly. My body sent aches all throughout and I was sure I shouldn't of just done that. A chaos of thoughts competed in my head before I angrily punched the ground.
"Stupid. Stupid. You should of just been patient." I quietly reprimanded myself. What was I thinking?
I knew, of course. It was the situation that caused me to panic. I hate feeling powerless, but aware enough to know I'm exactly that. Subconsciously, I was begging to flee. To never hurt again.
"Fat lot running aways going to do." I said while I slowly stood. My body felt weak and my state of dress wouldn't exactly be inconspicuous. I took a careful look at the houses around me, making sure I wasn't seen.
I melded myself out of light and into the shadows. Thankfully, it was still dark and no one seemed to be up. I didn't get a chance to find out the time before I stupidly escaped. Now, I most likely made things more difficult for myself despite how the Dursleys would of treated me.
Now, everyone would be more alert, pay closer attention. That is if I'm caught. I'm not confident in my ability to avoid detection, so it's highly probable I will be. I've never been or seen much of Britian. I'm ignorant to it's laws and it's culture. I have no idea what to do. Especially difficult not knowing the date either.
A park broke the monotony of brick houses and I decided to settle for the night. I knew I couldn't make it much further with how weak I am. I found my bedding in dirt from prying eyes.