Title: Noticing
Alternate Title: Yet Another Let's Abuse Harry Story
Summary: Ron knew something was wrong with his friend. He'd always known Harry was smaller and thinner than the rest of their age mates, but hadn't put much thought into it until now. He wasn't as thick as everyone seemed to think - he didn't miss the winces when he moved the wrong way, or how the 'muggle sport injury' was suspiciously hand-shaped.
WARNINGS: Mentions of child abuse and some violence.
"Boy! You get in here now!"
13-year-old Harry Potter's eyes flew open at his uncle's yell. His eyes snapped to his miniscule shelf above his bed, heart dropping to his stomach when he realized his cobbled together alarm clock had decided to quit sometime during the night.
In less than a minute he was wearing some of Dudley's old jeans, one of his uncle's holey belts wrapped twice around his bony hips to get them to stay up. He had just pulled a slightly stained t-shirt over his head when the cupboard door flew open. Vernon's large, now purple face appeared in the opening.
"Get a move on, freak!" A beefy hand grabbed the front of his already stretched-out shirt and hauled him out. "How many times do I have to tell you? I want breakfast on the table by seven. Do you know what time it is?" His voice was now steely calm, and it was terrifying.
"No, sir, my clock-"
"7, Potter, and you're still lazing in bed like your good-for-nothing parents!" The back of his hand slammed across Harry's cheek, immediately leaving a slightly raised red handprint. Harry stumbled and would have fallen had the wall not been behind him. Tears involuntarily sprang to his eyes from his smarting face.
"There'll be more of that, freak, if my breakfast isn't ready before I leave for work!" Vernon snarled, and Harry sprinted into the kitchen, nearly colliding with a very angry Dudley. He'd be leaving for his third year of Hogwarts in three days, and he'd been hoping he'd arrive without any bruises, welts, or cuts. He'd been so careful, but it seemed it would be fruitless because of his stupid broken alarm clock. He'd just been so tired…
There was no way he'd finish breakfast like Uncle Vernon wanted. He left for work at 7:15 everyday, and it wasn't humanely possible to cook bacon, eggs, toast, and sausage in fifteen minutes.
Sure enough, he'd finished the omelets and bacon when he lumbered into the kitchen with his briefcase. His eyes narrowed when he saw his 'small' breakfast.
"I warned you, boy," he growled. He unbuckled his belt, which was thick and long to get around his great bulk. "Face the wall."
Closing his eyes to brace himself, Harry slowly turned to face the neutral-painted wall. He clenched his fists and bit his lip to keep from crying out as the strap of leather bit into the skin, leaving angry red welts. He whimpered slightly as a particularly hard blow made him slump forward against the wall, tears sliding silently down his cheeks.
He nearly sighed out loud in relief when he heard his uncle putting his belt back on. "Petunia, I need to leave for work if I want to get that…"
His uncle's voice seemed to fade as Harry closed his eyes, working through the intense pain. His back felt like it was on fire, and his face still stung from the morning's wake up call. Distantly he remembered that he was going to Diagon Alley with the Weasleys to pick up school supplies that afternoon, and would need some excuse for the bruise that was sure to sprout on his cheek.
His aunt, being slightly kinder than his uncle, allowed him a short reprieve and instructed him to go change, as to 'not get blood on her floor'. He hurried back to his cupboard, swinging the door shut and pulling the chain for the overhead light. In reality not much of his skin had been split open, but it stung miserably.
As he pulled off the soiled shirt, the door opened a crack and a small box dropped in. It closed quickly and he cautiously peered into it. A small tube of ointment and a roll of gauze stared up at him.
"Thank you," he whispered to the woman just beyond the door. He heard her sharp heels click off, and then dabbed the medicine on the cuts as best he could. He gingerly pulled a long sleeved shirt over his head. The sleeves would hide the welts on his arms, so Mrs. Weasley didn't ask questions. If he let anyone find out, wizard or not, his uncle would kill him.
He hid the bandages and tube of ointment in his pillowcase so Vernon wouldn't take them away. It was easier to hide cuts if they weren't infected.
Gingerly straightening as much as he could under the stairs, he unlatched his door and limped down the hall. Aunt Petunia had finished breakfast for him and her and Dudley were eating at the table, his cousin gorging himself on bacon. "Do the dishes," Petunia said sternly, not looking up from her cup of coffee.
"Yes, ma'am." He stepped up to the pans set by the sink. A small portion of scrambled eggs were still in the pan and he smiled. Aunt Petunia wasn't exactly kind to him, but without her he would've been killed by his uncle a long time ago. Starved to death, probably.
Hastily he scooped the eggs out and stuffed them in his mouth before Dudley saw and told Uncle Vernon when he got home from work. He savored the flavor as he began to scrub the first pan, glancing at the microwave's clock. 7:45...the Weasleys would be here at 10, and he still needed to clean Dudley's second bedroom.
Placing the last plate on the drying rack, he hobbled upstairs. A mirror was hanging on the wall and he winced at his appearance. He'd gotten too thin again over the summer thanks to the Dursleys, and he was startlingly pale except for the purpling hand-shaped bruise. Dark bags hung under his eyes, and his hair was limp with malnutrition. Sighing, he turned and began to organize Dudley's DS games on the shelf. Good thing he was staying at the Burrow - he didn't think he could take another three days here.
A is for Azkaban
Molly Weasley gestured for her children to stay in the Ministry-issued car as she walked to the front porch of the house identical to every other one within a one mile radius except for the numbers on the mailboxes. Smoothing her patched robes down, she knocked on the heavy wood door. With a minute a mousey woman answered, staring at her with what looked like distaste.
"Hello," Molly said, giving a friendly smile. "I'm here to pick up Harry." The woman scowled.
"Right, then." She walked back into the living room, Dudley peering out from the stair's railing. "Potter, get down here!"
Molly frowned at her harsh tone. Did he get spoken to all the time like that?
All thought was pushed from her mind as he appeared at the top of the stairs, dragging his trunk behind him. He looked like death warmed over. His posture sagged and he seemed to be limping as he walked carefully towards his almost surrogate redhead mother. What seemed to be muggle make-up was smeared across his face, attempting to hide what was no doubt a nasty bruise on his cheek.
Dudley, smirking, stuck out his foot as Harry passed him. The boy sucked in a breath as he tripped over the fat boy's ankle, sure he was going to tumble the rest of the way down the stairs.
"Aresto momentum," Molly said quickly. Harry's fall slowed enough for him to grab onto the railing, frowning at Dudley. He grimaced as he straightened, but then smiled at Molly.
"Hi, Mrs. Weasley," he greeted, green eyes sparkling in anticipation of the day. He turned to the skinny woman. "I finished my chores, Aunt Petunia. I'll see you next summer…"
The woman - Petunia - only gave a stern nod, then stalked into the kitchen adjoining the living area. Annoyed and rather angry at the woman, Molly led Harry outside. He looked even worse in the sunlight, the harsh rays washing out his already pale skin.
"We'll just go back to the house and take the Floo," the kindly woman, brow wrinkled in concern, said. "…are you alright, Harry?"
He pasted a grin on his face and nodded. "Of course." He climbed into the bigger-on-the-inside car, settling between Ron and either Fred or George. Ron looked concerned.
"Why d'ya have stuff on your face, mate?" he asked. "Scorgify."
In an instant the makeup was gone and the now almost black bruise stood out painfully clear on his face. "Blimey, where'd you get that?" Ron asked, lightly touching the mark.
"Ah - muggle sport. Football," he explained with a grin. Ron seemed satisfied with the answer, but he didn't see Fred and George exchange skeptical, concerned looks.
In what seemed like no time they'd arrived at the Burrow. The Weasley children scurried out, followed by Molly and Harry, walking more slowly.
Once inside, the mother gently put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Dear, would you help me with something?"
"I can help, Mum," Ron offered as the rest of the redheads ran to collect things they'd forgotten for the trip.
"No, Ron, go on," Molly said firmly. Though confused, Ron followed the others upstiars. Harry tilted his head in confusion.
"What do you want me to help with?" he asked. In answer, Molly walked into one of the small side rooms, closing the door behind her, before turning to Harry.
Taking out her wand, she tapped his cheek and murmured, "Episkey." The bruise faded into a light green. "Anywhere else?" she asked quietly. She looked sad and concerned.
Perfectly aware she was at least suspicious of where he got his injuries, Harry silently removed his robe, then the shirt underneath. "Vulnera Sanentur. Episkey." The welts and gashes on his back and arms faded to smaller, thinner lines of irritated red, and he sighed in contentment.
"Now, Harry, I'd imagine there's injuries I'm not qualified to heal, and you're passed skinny," she said, staring at his jutting spine and ribs. "I'd suggest you let me take you to St. Mungo's, or at least Madam Pomfrey." She grabbed him in a hug, eyes widening and tears sparkling in her eyes when she felt the skeletal, starved body.
"Not St. Mungo's," Harry requested once they pulled apart, staring at the tips of his shoes. Mrs. Weasley's suspicions that he had other injuries were true. He was pretty sure at least one finger was broken, and his stomach was concaved with malnutrition while his spine stuck out painfully far from his body, as well as his ribs. His cheeks were sunken into his face, except for the bags puffed out under his eyes.
"Healer Pomfrey's, then. I'll make sure to send a note to Dumbledore and let him know you need to see her as soon as you get there. After we shop, you're going straight to bed," she ordered. "No buts," she added as he opened his mouth to protest. "I want you to talk to Dumbledore about this, too."
"Alright," Harry said quietly, having no intention of actually telling the Headmaster. Molly regarded him sternly, then handed him her knitting bag so he'd have something to help her with and not look suspicious.
B is for Blimey
Ron knew something was wrong with his friend. He'd always known Harry was smaller and thinner than the rest of their age mates, but hadn't put much thought into it until now. He wasn't as thick as everyone seemed to think - he didn't miss the winces when he moved the wrong way, or how the 'muggle sport injury' was suspiciously hand-shaped.
It hurt, a bit, that he didn't confide in his best friend, but he supposed everyone had secrets. He became even more concerned when his mother told him to go on in because she wanted Harry to 'carry something'. As if, Mum.
He slumped into one of the living room's many chairs. Fred and George came up to him, smiling, but something was off about their normal smirks. They were concerned, too.
"Why the long face, Ronnykins?" Fred asked, setting on one of the chair's arms, with George on the other.
"Yeah, you get to go to Diagon Alley with your best mate," George added.
"You know what's wrong," Ron huffed, half sad and half angry. "Something's wrong with Harry."
For once in their lives, Fred and George turned serious.
"Yeah, but Mum's-" Fred.
"Taking care of him now-" George.
"So you don't have to worry."
"Mum takes care of-"
"Everything."
Ron, used to the twins' uncanny knack of finishing the others' sentences, didn't even smile. "Yeah, I guess," he said uncertainly. He glanced up as Harry and Mrs. Weasley came out of the side room. Harry's bruise was almost gone and he seemed to be carrying himself much more casually, instead of the stiff gait he'd adopted earlier. He seemed slightly cowed, and Ron's mum seemed distressed.
"Alright. Let's go, then. Where did Ginny run off to, now? If she's fixing her hair again…" The woman went up the stairs muttering, leaving Harry with the rest of the kids.
Ron smiled at his friend, trying to make everything seem normal. As normal as something could be in the Weasley household.
"Are we meeting Hermione there?" Harry asked, stretching with a contented sigh.
"Yeah, but she can't stay with us after," Ron said, looking depressed. "She has to attend her great-aunt's 13th wedding or something like that."
Harry's eyebrows rose. "I see…"
They made small talk for fifteen minutes before an annoyed Ginny came down, followed by Mrs. Weasley. "Never have I seen one person take so much time to put their hair up!" Mrs. Weasley said in a high-pitched tone. "We're going to have to talk to your father if this continues, young lady."
Ginny huffed, threw some Floo Powder into the fireplace, and yelled, "Diagon Alley!", successfully escaping her mother's telling-off for the moment. Mrs. Weasley puffed out her chest.
"Oh, that girl's going to get it!" She stepped in. "Diagon Alley!"
Remembering his first experience with the Floo Network, Harry made absolutely sure he yelled the name clearly as he stepped into the fire.
C is for Care of Magical Creatures
Okay! Hi! My name is StarkidPotter97 (yes, my username is from the Starkid theater company that made the wonderful HP musicals.) This is my absolute first Harry Potter fan fiction. I finally read JK's books for the first time a couple months ago at the library, finishing them all in that time and watching the movies. However, I don't own the books nor can I afford them, so please bear with me if I mess up anything and please let me know!
I watched the movies and sobbed during every one of them. Honestly…Daniel Radcliffe was too good of a child actor.
So, please drop me a review, PM, anything to let me know how to make my story better!
Thanks!
~SKPOTTER97
