Roadside rivers
A burst of childish laughter drew Petunia's attention to the small black haired boy across the lawn. She saw her four year old nephew sitting on the edge of the sidewalk peering down into the little stream of water running down the drain. He laughed again and she felt the side of her mouth tug into a small smile.
She walked over and asked him what he was doing, he points to the little damn he's made, branching the stream into two smaller ones. She smiles wider and kneels down to help him with his building. They stay outside until Dudley comes looking for them, the three go inside so Petunia can fix dinner for the family.
It's not until a few days later that their happy family of four begins to fall apart.
Another bright spring day dawns, perfect for the gardening Petunia wants to do. Her little boys come outside with her, Dudley 'helps' with the weeding and Harry plays in the stream of melting snow he finds at the side of the road. Petunia looks up again at the sound of Harry's laughter. Just in time to see the little boy flick his fingers and catch an impossible handful of water.
She jumped to her feet as he let the water run naturally back to the ground through his fingers before looking up and smiling at her. She stormed over and grabbed his arm, yanking him to his feet and dragging him inside.
And Harry spent his first night in what was to become his closet. Crying into the thin pillow his aunt had given him and living out what would remain his earliest memory, one of dark and fear and shame.
Harry spent the rest of the summer indoors. Adjusting to the new dislike he felt from his aunt at all times and the glares that began appearing on his cousins face when he saw Harry.
He didn't play in another little sidewalk stream until the next spring.
The stream of water captured his attention in a way that nothing had since the last spring. He sat on the sidewalk in front of number four and built a damn to stop the flow of water.
The water went around it. He built it taller and longer.
The water toppled it over. He built it up again, wider and shorter.
The water pooled and went over it.
He broke down the damn and kicked at the water until his clothes and the sidewalk were wet.
He cried and wiped his cheeks with wet fingers.
Every day that spring until the snow runoff dried up and the streams stopped flowing Harry would sit on the edge of the sidewalk staring at the water. After that first day he didn't touch the water again. When they finally ran dry he retreated back inside.
The looks he received from his aunt and cousin grew worse every day, his uncle noticed and joined in. Another year goes by and Harry stays in his closet, slowly forgetting anytime spent happy before that fateful spring day.
By the time the next spring rolls around Harry's happy childhood memories are a blur. The ones that stand out clear are the first time Dudley punches him. His aunt yelling when he knocks his glass over at dinner and his uncle's angry look when Harry comes home with a letter from school about his teachers blue wig.
Whenever he was able Harry would go outside and sit on the side walk, he would watch the little streams of melted snow flow by. For many days he didn't dare touch it though he didn't know why he shouldn't. Until finally one day he reached out and placed a freshly thawed leaf in the water where it sat like a fragile boat. He looked at it and pictured himself shrinking down and sailing off to a beautiful new place where he would wear a dandelion crown and dance with butterflies under the moon.
The pretty dream shattered when his aunt's sensible flat soled shoe splashed into the little river, it over turned the leaf boat that would have carried him to a new life of wonder and midnight revelries.
Aunt Petunia grabbed him by the arm, her long fingers wrapped all the way around, they even overlapped, and carted him into the house.
And Harry spent his first day of many to come doing chore after chore until his wrists ached from scrubbing.
By the time Harry was next outside without the weight of a shovel, rake or lawnmower under his hand the streams that so captured his interest were dried up. The only thing remaining was a bank of mud and dead leaves.
As another year passed the last of Harry's happy childhood was lost to the fog of dreams that were never remembered upon awakening. When the time of melted snow and fresh green finally returned Harry's role in the family was fully established. He washed, he scrubbed, he cleaned and he shined.
At school any friends that he'd had when he was younger were gone or had decided to stay away from Dudley's bad side. His teachers didn't like him because he obviously wasn't trying in class. Dudley bullied him at recess. At home his aunt made him clean until his fingers were raw and his uncle yelled about everything he did.
Harry grew to love his little closet under the stairs. The only place where no one could hurt him or make him work until he hurt.
On days when Harry finished his washing, scrubbing, cleaning and shining early enough he would go outside and sit on the end of the lawn. He would sit and watch the water as it flowed under the unmelted edges of ice. He watched as it carried candy wrappers and cigarette butts and broken twig people to a world away from number four Privet Drive.
He watched, until the water ran dry and he didn't touch it once.
During the next year Harry's list of jobs grew longer as his uncle grew tired of shovelling snow and his aunt sick of tending the flowers and plants in and around their house. As the New Year came and went the snow piled higher and Harry grew weary of the sight of his shovel. His heart lightened as the days grew longer and finally as the great drifts of snow and ice began to shrink.
It was long before he even thought to look for the streams that so delighted him in years past.
When finally one caught his eye the height of melt was over, the trickle of water was slow and sluggish. He watched it for a moment before his aunts voice called him to return to the garden he was to be working. At the end of the day he returned outside thinking of the hours he'd passed watching the water trickle by over the years.
He stood at the edge of the road and looked down at the thin layer of ice that had formed over the rivulet in the cool air of the evening. With a prod of his finger the ice cracked but stayed where it was, the flow of water too slow to move it. He stood for a long time watching the ice struggle to be washed away, trying to reach the wonderful place he was sure the water found when it was past his home at Privet Drive.
Spring ended, summer passed, school recommenced and Harry was busier. His aunt grew tired of cooking for the family and so began Harry's job of making breakfast for his relatives.
School was worse every day as Dudley became a bigger bully. The kids in Harry's class feared his cousin but knew that he hated Harry especially so Harry was never able to hide at school, when every other child would give him away at a moment's notice to save their own skin.
When Christmas break approached Harry was excited for a much different reason then his classmates. At home he knew he could hide from Dudley and no one could give him away because his aunt and uncle didn't care.
As Dudley's gang grew Harry developed a skill that would save him from more than just his cousin. Quick on his feet Harry spent the rest of the winter honing his skill as a runner. When spring finally returned Harry split his time between his never ending list of chores and fleeing from his classmates.
It was chance that reminded him of his springtime entertainment. He was running, Dudley and his gang far behind when he splashed through the stream of melted snow. He stopped suddenly, one trainer full of water and listened as Dudley tore down a different street and their voices faded away. Harry looked up and found himself once more outside his families' home.
He sat down, one foot still in the stream and watched as the water flowed around the obstruction. He sat there staring at the little stream of melted winter that led to a freedom he would never know. He watched until Dudley returned and then he ran, one foot sloshing around in his too big shoe and slowing him down.
He ran on even after Dudley grew tired and retreated home flinging insults. He ran until after dark and then crept back to his families' house. Where he found it locked to him.
He sat on the sidewalk until morning, watching all the bits of trash and rubbish more deserving then him be carried away, past number four to a world where it was always spring and the streams never stopped flowing. And quietly he hopped, as he did every year that someday he would get to that place, that magical place where he could finally be happy.
In the year that followed Harry's life grew more miserable than ever, his aunt watched him like a hawk and screamed when anything odd happened. His uncle would box him around the ears at the slightest excuse and Dudley was bigger and meaner than ever before. When Harry came home with another letter from his teacher, about being on the roof, he was locked in his closet for weeks.
When he finally got out the snow was melted, the steams come and gone, done carrying all the worthy things to a place he'd never know. For awhile he mourned his lost chance of escape but eventually he let himself see the truth that he's always hid from.
As Dudley's eleventh birthday approached with his to follow soon after, Harry finally admitted that freedom from this life wasn't going to happen. His roadside rivers couldn't carry him to a better place. If ever he shrank down and sailed off in a leaf boat the only place he'd reach would be the sewer drain at the end of the street.
If there was a better place in the world Harry Potter would never know it. He was bound to live his life out in number four Privet Drive, and no melted snow could change that.
A/N: Well there you are. I hope you all enjoyed this story. It came to me back in the springtime, obviously. But I only just managed to get all the ideas out right. I was planning on adding a little bit at the end of a happier time for Harry, in his magical new world... but it sort of detracted from the melancholy of the story.
Thanks for reading, please review.
DerangedxandxSarcastic