Harry curled up in the darkness of his cupboard, sighing softly. It wasn't like he needed the light anyway. He snorted. Just because he was stuck in the dark all the time didn't mean he liked it any.

It was really strange, so he had never told anyone, as his family desperately strived for 'normal', but there were certain objects that seemed to give off light, or something, so even his blind eyes could see it. Neither his cousin Dudley nor his brother Mitch had ever noticed it though. Most of the things he had moved to the cupboard under the stairs, which was where he slept. Otherwise, he was outside doing chores, or cooking and cleaning for his Aunt Petunia.

Uncle Vernon mostly ignored him and Mitch, which was just as well. When Vernon noticed them, it was only to yell at them, and maybe knock them around a little. Dudley liked Mitch, so Aunt Petunia allowed him to be Dudley's companion, only demanding that he defer to Dudley at all times. Harry smiled wryly. Mitch was well on his way to becoming the perfect yes-man, and they were only five.

Harry, though, was required to do all the chores around the house; wash the dishes, help cook dinner, do almost all the cleaning, do the laundry, take out the trash, and keep the small garden that Aunt Petunia liked to have tea in. For no reason except that Dudley couldn't be bothered with 'the blind boy', as he called Harry. He wouldn't even admit that Harry had a name, much less that they were cousins.

"Boy!" Uncle Vernon's harsh shout interrupted his sleepy musings, and he sighed quietly. He was the only one Vernon called boy. He addressed Dudley and Mitch by their names. Harry made his way quietly out of the cupboard, moving to stand before his uncle.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon?" he asked in his most polite tone. Anything else would bet him slapped.

"We're leaving tomorrow on a weekend trip to America." Uncle Vernon liked these weekend trips; ever since Harry could remember, they'd had at least three weekend trips a year, to various parts of the world. Primary school started next week; Harry should have anticipated a trip before their time would be more restricted. The three boys were to start their first year of schooling that year. "Pack all of your stuff, then go help Dudley and Mitchell pack what they need."

"Yes Uncle Vernon," Harry said dutifully, scurrying off to retrieve the large suitcases they used for their trips. The boys had one each, while Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon each had two, and he had to pull them all out of the basement all on his own, even though the stairs were tricky for a blind boy. He fell more than once, though luckily he didn't tumble down the stairs.

The only reason Harry could see for Uncle Vernon's insistence that he pack all of his belongings was to make his suitcase weigh the same as Dudley's and Mitch's. Shrugging, he set to packing his meager belongings. All of his clothes –hand-me-downs from Dudley and Mitch- as well as the books and pieces of jewelry he had found in the attic, the ones that glowed, the ones he instinctively knew had belonged to his mother. He packed the long, warm wrap-things that he had made his bed out of, as a mattress wouldn't fit in the cupboard. His aunt had seen him bringing a few of them down and ha asked him what he was doing with "those horrid old cloaks", so he supposed that was what they were called. Cloaks. But he mostly didn't call them anything but soft anyway, so he supposed it didn't matter what they were called. He sighed softly as he closed the suitcase. He wished he could wear some of his mother's jewelry, as it felt so nice and comforting in his hands, but it would only get broken or stolen by his so-loving family. And if they took it from him, they'd probably give it to Mitch, just to spite him, and Mitch wouldn't even notice. Shaking his head sadly, he went to help Mitch pack, then both he and Mitch would help Dudley –or pack for Dudley, more realistically.

Hours later, Harry stumbled to bed. It was long after midnight; as expected, Dudley had played video games until he was sent to bed, leaving his cousins to figure out how to fit all the stuff he wanted to take into his suitcase. Harry had sent Mitch to bed around eleven, when he could no longer even pretend he was alert, as he knew his brother would not be able to wake in the morning if he didn't get some sleep. He didn't have the experience Harry did in ignoring his body's fatigue each morning to beat his family up to cook breakfast for his relations, as well as setting the cereal out for Mitch and getting some himself, before starting his never-ending round of chores that left him stiff and sore at the end of the day. He collapsed onto the single blanket he had been given, which he had folded on the floor to protect him from the splintery wood. He would pack it first thing when he got up. Curling on the blanket, he drifted away into his thoughts, and from there into dreams.

A knock on his door startled Harry from his remembrances, for which he was grateful. He didn't want to remember how his family had abandoned him here at this school for the blind on Oklahoma, USA. Sure, he liked it here better, but that didn't mean he liked knowing that even his own twin hadn't wanted him.

He stood and crossed to the door, opening is carefully in case it was one of his dorm mates.

"Hello Harry." It was the dean, and there was another man behind him; Harry could hear him shifting his weight, either impatiently or uncomfortably. Harry tilted his head so it would appear he was looking at him.

"Who's that?" he asked as innocently as his six-year-old self could. The dean chuckled at the other man's apparent shock.

"Harry has always been extremely intuitive."

"I could hear him," Harry explained, grinning.

"I'm sure you could, Harry, I'm sure you could," the dean replied, laughter in his voice. "This is Mr. Sanders. He's from the Belleview Early Preparatory School. He comes regularly with a list of students who have attracted their notice. He's offering you a full scholarship. You would spend the breaks here, and the rest of the year at the school." Harry nodded slowly.

"My aunt and uncle signed papers giving you guardianship, right?" the dean nodded, startled. "Then there's no real reason to tell them, right?" The dean looked worried.

"Your family would be proud of you, Harry. Not many get accepted for this school." Harry shook his head.

"My family hates me, sir. You know this. Everyone knows this. That's why they sent me to a school in the middle of America, instead of one in Britain. It's just so they have an excuse to never visit me. They would say that the scholarship should go to Mitch, since he's not handicapped like I am." The dean winced, causing Mr. Sanders to raise an eyebrow. Apparently this fit with his understanding of the family and he had not wanted to admit it to himself, much less anyone else.

"Very well, Harry. If you wish it, I will not inform your relatives." Harry's shoulders relaxed and he smiled slightly.

"I would appreciate it sir. Mr. Sanders, I appreciate your facility's interest in me. Would I be able to examine the grounds before I decide?" Mr. Sanders sighed softly.

"If you decide to accept, we'll leave this evening. But you aren't required to stay there. You can always return here if you decide it's not where you belong." Harry nodded.

"Very well. I would be pleased to accept a place at your school."

Mr. Sanders smiled.