3 years prior
"Freak! You're nothing but a little freak! What have I told you about showing off your abnormality?"
Heavy drops of rain smashed relentlessly against the pavements pooling in the cracks.
"You'll pay for this boy! I swore if you ever hurt my son I'd kill you!"
A thick blanket of darkness lay over the suburban street casting long shadows over the ground ahead.
"I'm going to teach that freak a lesson that he'll never forget. HE'LL BLOODY PAY FOR THIS!"
Beads of sweat trickled down his face mingling with tears. His back was aching, his every muscle burned in protest but still, he ran.
"Go on then Harry - fight back. Defend yourself like a man."
Despite the raging pain in his chest, he urged himself on. He had to get away. He had to leave this place.
"You can't can you? Think you're the big man with all your nonsense, but you're nothing but a little freak!"
Blinding yellow headlights sped towards him. The shrill shriek of breaks sliced through the roar of the rain as the car swerved to avoid him. A blare of the horn startled Harry back to the present time.
With his heart hammering wildly, he stopped abruptly and turned, watching the black car speed down the road he'd just ran across. It's bright rear lights flashing angrily in its wake.
"Get out of my house. Get out boy. I said get out!"
Ignoring the sharp stabbing in his head, he forced himself on once more. He wasn't going back there. This was his chance. He had to escape.
"Now!"
He didn't stop again until his lungs gave out and he collapsed in a heap at the side of the road. It was only then that the memories immersed him and he let the tears fall freely. He dragged in shuddering breaths through the sobs that wracked through his body.
Soaked to the bone now, he was distantly aware that he had to find shelter from the brewing storm. But he couldn't bring himself to lift his heavy limbs and move. He clutched his hand me down jacket closer, brought his knobbly knees to his chest and curled tighter into his ball. As though he was still protecting his aching body from the viscous blows.
If there was one thing that he was certain of it was that he would never go back. In spite of the frost biting at his numb fingers, in spite of the blood seeping through his threadbare t-shirt. In spite of the rough ground digging into his skin from beneath him. He was more at home here than at 4, Privet Drive. No, he'd never go back.
At precisely the same time that night, somewhere many, many miles away, buried deep in enchanted chambers and locked drawers, a worn piece of parchment eased itself. Leaving a few blank spaces in between it's many lines. The ink having disappeared without a trace.