Disclaimer: The wonderful, amazing, beautiful JK Rowling owns it all, except for the bits that other people own. I do this for kicks, not for money, and to share the love.
Those Dark and Difficult Years
Ch. 1 – Suitably Tragic
When Harry James Potter was five years old, he came to school with no shoes on. His cousin, Dudley, had hid them, and his uncle told him to stop whinging on about it.
He was in a big class, and was a quiet child. No-one noticed.
When he was six, he fainted in assembly because he hadn't eaten in three days. He had been locked in his cupboard all weekend for turning the dishwater purple.
His aunt told the school he was going through a 'phase'.
When Harry James Potter was seven years old, one Monday he came to school with a broken arm.
As you might have gathered, Harry did not live with his worthless parents. They had died and he had been foisted on his Aunt and Uncle.
It could have continued like this. Harry Potter could have grown-up unloved, unwanted, and a little black and blue. His childhood would have been suitably tragic, and Joseph Campbell might have included him in The Hero with a Thousand Faces as a case study. He might even have become a Slytherin.
Perhaps if Vernon Dursley hadn't drunk nearly as much, and if Petunia had been a little bit more assertive about the welfare of her nephew, Harry would have stayed with them, unhappy, undernourished, but as normal as could be hoped in the circumstances.
But these were dark and difficult years, and not even Albus Dumbledore, with his Greater Good, could ignore the plight of the child.
This time, Harry was in luck. Someone noticed his broken arm. But the narrative likes to reassert itself. He still needed to grow up suitably tragic.
His aunt and uncle had failed to take him to hospital to have it set. When questioned, little Harry admitted that he broke it on Saturday afternoon. He wouldn't tell anyone how.
His class teacher noticed in PE when he started crying. Harry rarely cried.
Mrs Hall, of class 3H, was concerned. She had just come back from a teacher-training course, and was very aware of the 'signs', as they were known.
She called in Vernon and Petunia Dursley.
She didn't like what they had to say. 'No little boy should be called a freak.'
Social Services were informed, and began to observe the Dursley home. Harry was put on the 'at-risk' register.
Three months later, Harry was removed from the home. An elderly neighbour, Arabella Figg, had called in the report that she had seen Vernon Dursley hit the child across the face in a local park.
Harry told his Social Worker that he was a bad boy, and a freak. And that he'd like to live somewhere else, please. And that he had been sleeping in the cupboard under the stairs.
The Dursley's, of number four, Privet Drive, were taken to court, and Vernon Dursley was given a two-year prison sentence. Petunia Dursley was given a six-month suspended sentence. It was reported in the local paper, the Little Whinging & Tadfield Advertiser, although the names were kept out of it. Their son, Dudley, stayed in the family home with his mother, and his Aunt Marge.
Harry was moved into emergency foster care in Guildford. It was only to be for a few days..
It was the tail end of November, that time of year when the bite of winter has really taken hold and the colours of the autumn had faded to the dirty, grim hue of crushed brown leaves and shivering bare branches. Lyn Jordan dug in the drawer for her gloves, extracting a fragment of last year's tinsel and a half-written Christmas card to her eldest. Brushing the debris aside, Lyn sighed and began to pin her greying hair back. 'I sigh too much these days,' she mused 'must be getting old'.
It was bleak in Guildford. As Lyn waited at a bus stop, she watched a dog do its business on a lamppost, as its owner looked the other way. Some kids from the local secondary, St George's, chatted on the other side of the road, bundled up against the cold.
'This is the last time' she thought, as her bus approached.
When Surrey County Council Social Services department called Lyn Jordan to enquire if she could take in a seven-year-old boy, no special needs, no siblings, emergency placement, she agreed. She had taken in a lot of children in the past, with her husband Edward, but they were both getting older, so she decided that she would only do in short-term placements now.
She looked down at the small boy in his brand new duffle coat and oversized shoes, sitting by himself in the office of the South West Area Social Services department.
'They wouldn't have looked out of place on a circus clown,' she reflected 'or a homeless person.'
His thin face had a pinched, anxious look that she was only too familiar with. She knelt down in front of him, and shook his hand.
"Hello dearie, you can call me Auntie Lyn" she began, by way of an introduction. The look of horror on the boy's, Harry's, face would have been enough – the warning glance from his social worker was unnecessary. Lyn Jordan quickly rethought her strategy. 'Had enough of aunts, I suspect'. She caught sight of herself in the darkening window, hair greying, face wrinkled, but eyes still kind, and sighed.
"Well, love, you must be Harry, and I'm your Nana Lyn. You're going to come and stay with me and Grandpa Edward for a little bit, while we get things sorted for you at home, if that's ok with you.."
As Harry Potter nodded, and gave a shy smile, Nana Lyn she became.
'Nana Lyn is a mystery'
Harry pondered this as he held her hand on the bus.
Mystery was a word he liked. He'd heard it at school, and spent all weekend trying to learn how to spell it. He'd not had much else to do, as the adults were all ignoring him, talking in angry whispers, and taking frantic phone calls.
And here he was now, going to stay with Nana Lyn.
'I thought I didn't have a Nana and Grandpa'
Nana Lyn stood up to get off, and Harry followed her, clutching tightly to her with one hand, and to his bin bag full of clothes with the other. They didn't walk far, just to a small house with an even smaller front garden, and a blue door.
"This is us, Harry dear" said Nana Lyn as she prodded him through the front door. "My Edward will be back soon enough, he just popped out to get something special for tea and a treat for you."
They went upstairs, to a small landing with four doors leading off it. Harry counted them. The interior looked like it had been frozen in the last decade, with an off-white wallpaper and worn carpet. The paint was flaking of the banisters and the skirting board, and the doors to each room were slightly mismatched.
Harry liked it.
Nana Lyn opened the nearest door, and motioned inside. "Now this is the loo, and there's a bath in there as well, and we'll get you a stool so you can reach the sink by yourself". Harry had barely glanced in the room before the hand on his shoulder had twirled him around.
"And here is mine and Edward's room" she motioned again, "you just come and get us if you need anything at night". Harry stared at the closed door. Never before had he been allowed to disturb a grown-up at night. Only Dudley could do that.
They skipped the next door, with Nana Lyn muttering "'s'only the airing cupboard dear, nothing you need in there".
"And this," she announced at the final door, "Is your room. We'll put your name on the door." Harry shuffled inside, not sure what to expect. It wasn't big, but it wasn't tiny either. The carpet was a faded green, and the walls were white, with a few children's drawing's pinned up. There was a wardrobe, a single bed, and a small chest of drawers. Harry took this all in with barely a glance, his attention caught by the one thing he'd always dreamed of having.
A window.
He raced across the room, dropping his bag of clothes, all shyness forgotten. Nana Lyn chuckled.
"This is your bed, deary" he heard Nana Lyn say from behind him, as she hung up his school uniform in the wardrobe.
The garden was square and green, with a tangle of shrubs at one end. There was a shed, with goal posts painted on one side, and an old plastic swing leaning drunkenly against it. Harry was in awe.
"I expect that you've had quite enough to be going on with today, Harry, hmm? We'll just settle in here and have tea in a bit, and tomorrow I'll pop you into town and we'll go to M&S and get you some new togs.."
Harry turned as she spoke, and clutched his coat to him 'But I've got a new coat, what else do I need?'
Nana Lyn went on, oblivious to his confusion. "Luckily your social worker gave me a clothes voucher for you, and we'll get you some nice shoes as well" she continued, "And then on Wednesday you can get back to school with your friends."
The front door opened and the vinegary smell of fish and chips hit Harry. His mouth had already begun to water. Lunch had been ages ago.
"Oh, that must be Edward back. Let's get down for some tea then, love" Nana Lyn turned to go out the door, "are you coming?"
Harry froze, still kneeling by the window.
"Is it all… for me?" he whispered.