Poster's Note: This is the incomplete revised version of Celebony's classic fanfic from 2003 (ah, the Golden Days of the HP fandom!), an AU version of OOTP by the name of RECNAC TRANSFAERSO. I found it on a site that has since gone defunct, and I've decided to post it here so it's not lost to oblivion. No copyright infringement is intended.

Why I (the poster) bothered to save it: I recently completed my first complete Harry Potter reread in 4-5 years. After I did so I couldn't help thinking that JK Rowling was sheltering the reader from some horrific details of how Harry was treated at the Dursleys. It's not always subtle, either. In Half-Blood Prince, for example: "Harry ran down the stairs two at a time, coming to an abrupt halt several steps from the bottom, as long experience had taught him to remain out of arm's reach of his uncle whenever possible. " In any case, I was looking for a realistic fanfiction depiction of what Harry may have gone through, WITHOUT portraying Harry as a helpless epitome of innocence, and Recnac Transfaerso took the cake. Try the end of Chapter 13 for a particularly harrowing scene.

Author's Note (by Celebony): Some of you may be familiar with the old version of Recnac Transfaerso. Perhaps some of you are even new to it! I wrote the old version a million years ago (maybe more like 6). It was the first thing I ever wrote and while many people have been wonderfully complimentary about the plot, the writing leaves a bit to be desired. A little older and hopefully a little wiser, I'm revising in a fairy-godmother sort of way: cleaning up the actual writing, tightening up some plot lines, making motivations more realistic, and hopefully giving readers a little more bang for their buck. UPDATE: This revision is currently on hold. My attention is being pulled in too many directions right now and I think I need to evaluate whether I should continue.

And on to the story:

It was August 28 and possibly the worst day of Harry's life. He had always been very accepting of unfortunate situations; they seemed to define his life, after all. But this was just unfair. Life could be so cruel sometimes...

Harry knew he was in trouble the moment he arrived at the Dursleys' after the end of fourth year. He had almost forgotten about the Ton-Tongue Toffee incident, but the Dursleys clearly had not. Violence at home was something Harry had always been familiar with, but was never something he couldn't handle. He was no stranger to roughing-ups by Dudley's gang and his aunt leading him around by his hair, even his uncle throwing him around, but there had been only a few incidents in his past that had left him truly frightened.

Now it was different.

Uncle Vernon had started drinking, really drinking. It was after Harry said goodbye to his friends at the platform and was walking to Vernon's car when he first smelled alcohol on his uncle's breath. It was worrying, getting into the car with a drunk driver but he knew if he protested there would be bellowing and in case any of his classmates were around, that certainly wasn't appealing. He had been further shocked that evening to watch Uncle Vernon drinking glass after glass of whisky, getting more belligerent with each one. His aunt frowned at the behavior but seemed to deal with it by deflecting any of Vernon's anger from herself onto Harry.

It was terrifying to watch alcohol transform his already unpleasant uncle into a raging monster with no self-control. The drunker he got, the more he accused Harry of scheming to destroy the family, of wanting to hurt them with his magic. Harry's protests only enraged him further. The first time Vernon dragged him to his small room, Harry had known it would not be pleasant. He had not been prepared for the degree.

The next morning, terrified, covered in bruises and barely able to move his shoulder, he sought out his aunt while Vernon nursed a hangover upstairs. He begged her to reason with her husband, showed her what he had done to him. She accused Harry of bringing it on himself, saying if he wasn't such a horrible, disgusting boy, Vernon would never have turned to drinking in the first place.

He could see it in her eyes: she hated him. To her, he was the reason her family was falling apart.

And that was kind of the truth, wasn't it? Harry knew his family hated him, that they resented having him. He knew it was unfair, that a lot of it was because he was a wizard, but a deeper part of him knew it couldn't just be that. There had to be something else they saw in him and hated; it was something he had suspected since he was small. As he hated his family, he had also always felt a little guilty. Without him, their lives would have been normal like they'd always wanted.

Of course, it wasn't just his family he cursed, was it? Even his friends, the people he loved the most, were affected by him being around. They were put in mortal danger every year just because they were his friends. And there was Cedric, who had had everything going for him...until Harry came into his life.

Now Cedric was dead when it was obvious that, out of the two of them, Harry deserved it far more. It was his fault Voldemort had brought them there. It was his fault Voldemort was back. And if any of his friends got hurt, or more people died, that would be on Harry's head.

Maybe that was why he didn't ask his friends for help. Maybe he was worried they would agree with his aunt that he deserved it. Maybe he thought if he didn't complain about the troubles in his life, his friends would bear with him that much longer, because as much as he knew he should stay away from his friends to keep them safe, he knew with even more conviction that he needed his friends more than anything.

Whatever the reason, he found himself writing nothing but reassurances that his summer was going fine.

As life for Harry gradually declined into a whirlpool depression and fear, a family moved in down the street. One day, Harry looked up from the hedges he was trimming to find the new girl standing there with a smile. Her brown hair curled crazily, she was covered in freckles and couldn't be described as thin. She had probably received taunts about her weight in the past, but only because she was just at the point where she would be sensitive about it rather than because she looked anything remotely like Dudley. Her name was Dakota Stenson, she informed him. She was a year older than him and would be starting at the local private in the fall.

She clearly wanted to talk more, but with an anxious glance to the house, Harry insisted he needed to finish his chores. She looked a bit disappointed at the sudden dismissal and Harry offered an apologetic shrug, but didn't bother with more than that. She would hear the neighborhood rumors soon anyway, and nobody wanted to be friends with the kid who went to a school for the "incurably criminal".

Yet the next few days brought other brief visits by the girl. She seemed to catch on that Harry wasn't supposed to be chatting and was discreet, though her constant questions about why he was always doing chores began to make Harry paranoid. Finally he snapped that doing chores was just what he did, kicking himself later that he didn't come up with something better than that.

The next day Mrs. Stenson came by. She was polite and charming, explaining that Dakota, her daughter, had seen Harry working in the yard. She wondered if he might be willing to do some work for them since they could use help getting settled into their new house. He could even stay for dinner.

The idea of getting rid of Harry for a whole day and making a good impression with the new neighbors appealed to Aunt Petunia, so Harry found himself walking with the lady back to her house, not feeling particularly pleased about being the new neighborhood chore-boy.

But when he got to the house, there was no work to be done. Mrs. Stenson informed him that, from what she saw, he was, "doing far too much work around that house for a growing boy's own good."

Dakota greeted him in a cheerful but nervous manner, holding up a few movies and asking if he'd like to watch one.

At this point Harry was utterly confused, standing in the living room with an armful of gardening tools. He blinked at them in confusion.

"So, I'm not here to do yard work?"

She shifted anxiously. "Umm...no. I thought you might like this better than doing chores all the time. From what I've seen, that's all you do all day. I thought this would be a nice surprise. I don't really know what's up with you and your family, but I told mum we might need a more covert plan to bust you free for a day. But then, I've been told I have an overactive imagination. I won't be offended if you go home."

"Er, haven't you heard what people say about me?" Harry asked cautiously.

"Well, Mrs. Clarkson told us you were a criminal and I thought you were actually exciting, but Mrs...Figg, I think, said she's known you your whole life and that you were nothing but a sweet boy," she said teasingly, though clearly unsure if her teasing was going to be received well.

Harry let out a small laugh of surprise. "Well if you're sure, that would be really great."

"Of course!" she grinned, seeming to be relieved her offer of friendship hadn't been rejected. "Do you like action or comedy?"

That night, Harry had dinner with all three of the Stensons: Dakota and both her parents. It was the first meal in Surrey he had ever enjoyed. They asked him questions with genuine interest, without the suspicion of the rest of his neighbors. They laughed with him and he felt safe for the first time in too long. He was careful to be polite, hoping he might get invited back.

To his utter delight, he was. At first, Mrs. Stenson came over every few days to request Harry's assistance with odd jobs until Harry just started going over every day after his chores for at least an hour. The dinners became a godsend when the Dursleys began drastically restricting his food. The Stensons treated him like part of their family and he was always greeted with smiles and enthusiasm. It was nice to have a few hours a day without being the subject of disdainful looks and vitriolic rants. It was even nice not to have to think about Hogwarts for a little while because that meant he wasn't thinking about Cedric or Voldemort.

His visits to the Stensons and the letters from his friends were the only bright points in a very dark summer.

One day, Harry arrived home to extreme tension. He could hear Uncle Vernon bellowing in the kitchen about having lost a big account, the sound of a bottle clinking with glass confirming what Harry already suspected.

He quietly snuck up to his room, praying this drinking binge would leave his uncle passed out on the couch downstairs. He lay in bed, hardly daring to breathe lest he miss some auditory clue to his uncle's actions.

He caught snatches of Vernon's slurred conversation with his aunt. His clients had turned their nose up at him at lunch for no good reason. Harry was willing to bet it had something to do with his uncle's liberal addition of whisky into his morning coffee.

"It's that boy that's doing this! Him with his ABNORMALITY!"

Harry's heart began to pound. He glanced at the windows, but the newly secured bars kept that from being an escape option.

Heavy footsteps pounded unevenly up the stairs, sometimes stopping while Vernon most likely swayed and tried to catch his balance. Harry shut his eyes. He knew pretending to be asleep was hopeless but didn't know what else to do. He was never able to think clearly when it came to his uncle.

His door slammed open and Harry couldn't help but tense. He yelped as his arm was nearly ripped from its socket as he was torn from bed and slammed into his wall. His eyes went wide with panic as his uncle's fat hand pressed against his throat. He clawed at the hand, but Vernon just pressed harder. Harry's head swam dangerously and his uncle's already slurred words blurred into a slow buzzing.

Suddenly, he was thrown to the floor and was free to gasp in great gulps of air.

"Well, answer me, boy!" Vernon bellowed, stumbling back before finding his footing. Harry didn't know what the question was and even if he had known what to say, wouldn't have been able to get the words out while sucking air past his tender throat into his desperate lungs. His eyes snapped closed as a sharp kick was delivered to his stomach, then his chest. He instinctively curled into the fetal position, which just incited insults about cowardice as Vernon stepped over him and kicked him in the back, laughing as the action made Harry whip back out of his ball with a pained howl.

His vision swam and he tried to crawl away. He didn't get far before kicks were rained upon his torso. He could feel unconsciousness coming on and felt oddly relieved, thankful to finally be drowned in its comforting darkness.

IiIiIiIiI

The next day, Harry ignored the screaming protests of his body as he pushed himself through his chores. He couldn't decide whether to go to the Stensons' house or not after such an awful night. If he went, there was the risk of them discovering his awful secret, but if he didn't show up, they might come over to find out what was wrong. The thought of a confrontation between the Stensons and the Dursleys, especially when Vernon had begun drinking the moment he had gotten home, caused the scale to tip in favor of going. Therefore, after his chores, he pulled on Dudley's old turtleneck to cover up his bruises and walked over.

He told them he couldn't stay long because he had a cold, thus explaining the warm clothes during the summer, but Kota had gotten a new horror movie that she refused to watch alone. At the first scary moment in the film, Kota jumped and grabbed his injured shoulder. Despite his efforts, Harry gasped. He hoped he could cover it up by saying she had scared him, but Kota suspiciously poked his shoulder again and he couldn't help but wince and jerk away.

"What happened to your shoulder?" she asked, forgetting about the movie. Mr. Stenson looked up from the paper he was reading.

"Nothing. I have to go." He stood as quickly as he could, but Kota was faster, not letting her curiosity go unsatisfied.

"Let me take a look, Harry. I'm taking a first aid class in school."

Harry began to protest, but Kota grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked it down off his shoulder, hoping to reveal the affliction to Harry's shoulder, but let go with a gasp when she saw the livid bruises on Harry's neck.

Harry knew he was in trouble. The placing of these bruises couldn't be explained as easily as previous injuries had been, so he decided leaving quickly was the easiest solution. He turned, saying he had to go, but found Mr. Stenson blocking his way, eyebrows furrowed in a puzzled manner.

"Wait a second there, Harry. Let me take a look at that," he said, reaching for Harry's collar again. Harry took a step back, muttering that it was nothing and that he had to go, searching frantically for an escape.

Mr. Stenson repeated Kota's action, but pulled the neck straight down. Harry silently cursed Dudley's huge hand-me-downs as the collar stretched enough to reveal the fresh bruises on his neck. Harry was at a loss for explanation, mumbling that it was nothing while he tried to think of some sensible excuse. What was he supposed to say, though? He fell on a rock...that tried to strangle him?

"Kota, stay here. Harry, come with me." It was the sternest and most serious tone he had ever used in front of Harry. Harry tried once again to insist he had to go, but it came out as a sort of desperate plea that Mr. Stenson seemed deaf to. Mr. Stenson placed his hand on Harry's back and led him into the kitchen. Harry had to clench his jaw to stop himself from crying out in pain.

In the privacy of the kitchen, Mr. Stenson ordered Harry to take off his shirt. Harry's mind raced through all his options, but since all of them required the use of magic in front of Muggles, he reluctantly and slowly pulled his shirt over his head.

There was a moment of silence. When Mr. Stenson finally spoke, his voice was shaking.

"Who the hell did this to you, Harry?"

Harry couldn't look Mr. Stenson in the eye. His mind was in a state of pure panic. What was Uncle Vernon going to do to him now? Was he going to live to see the sun rise the following morning? He wasn't ready to die. He didn't want Uncle Vernon to kill him and have nobody even know until the Stensons called the cops. His friends might not even know until he didn't show up to school and he would never have gotten to say goodbye. He would never have been able to tell them how grateful he was for their friendship, how it had been the first kindness he had ever known.

When Harry didn't answer, Mr. Stenson answered for him.

"It was your uncle, wasn't it?" Mr. Stenson's eyes burned with fury. Harry found it almost comforting in a twisted way. He had seen fury so much this summer but this time he knew it wasn't directed at him. It was a profound relief that his gut seemed to appreciate more than his head.

"It was only this one time," Harry choked out. It had to be obvious he was terrified. He wanted Mr. Stenson to leave it alone. But another part of him wanted desperately for the man to save him. Harry tried to stomp down on that hopeful part. It would never work and he knew it.

"It was not only one time. Look at you. Jesus Christ."

Harry didn't need to look at himself. He knew he had injuries in all stages of healing.

"I get into fights."

"You're staying here tonight," Mr. Stenson said, ignoring Harry's last excuse. "You can stay in the guest bedroom." He stormed from the kitchen.

Harry grabbed his shirt and scrambled to pull it back on while starting after Mr. Stenson. "Wait! Don't talk to them! It really isn't bad and I'm leaving for school in September! Please! You're going to make it worse!"

They were now in the living room and by the look on Mrs. Stenson's face, Kota had told her what she knew. The two of them looked worried and bewildered but Harry didn't care. There was a more pressing matter.

"Kathryn, Harry will be staying the night. Give him some painkillers. I need to have a talk with the Dursleys."

Ignoring Harry's pleas, he marched straight out the door, slamming it behind him.

The half hour while Mr. Stenson was gone was spent seated at the kitchen table with Dakota and her mum. They tried to soothe Harry, but he couldn't stop trembling and he just stared anxiously at the door. When Mr. Stenson returned nursing his fist, he simply stated that he was going to get help the next day and that it was time for bed.

The two adults led the teenagers up the stairs, splitting off when they reached the top with Mrs. Stenson making sure her daughter went to her room, lecturing her about not visiting Harry's room that night. Mr. Stenson guided a still-shaking Harry into the guest room. He carried a bag Harry hadn't noticed before, which he explained held as much of Harry's clothes as he had been able to grab. Harry meant to say thank you but could only manage a feeble nod of the head.

Mr. Stenson sat next to Harry on the bed. "Listen Harry, what the Dursleys did to you is wrong. No one deserves that. You don't deserve that. Everything will turn out all right, okay? Now try to get some sleep. You'll be staying with us for a while."

He gave Harry a comforting smile, but when it wasn't returned he put a hand on Harry's head briefly before leaving the room, shutting the door gently behind him.

Mr. Stenson called Child Protective Services the next day, but as they clarified that there was no immediate danger, the lady informed them in a dull voice that Harry's case would be seen to when they could get to it. Mr. Stenson yelled and asked to speak to superiors, but the cold reality was that Harry was not the only abused child in Surrey and there were kids in more critical situations. It was a triage out there and because of Harry's age and the fact that he was currently out of the questionable home put him low on the list.

It took a long time to get a social worker out to investigate, too long. Harry's bruises had all disappeared except for the faintest sign of them, and when the social worker demanded to see pictures that documented his injuries, they could only stare at her blankly and feel like idiots. The neighbors had nothing but nice things to say about the Dursleys, nothing but nasty things to say about Harry. He was a criminal, a liar, he couldn't be trusted. The Dursleys put on the charm, a drill well-practiced for Vernon's clients. Harry's accusations of alcoholism were put into doubt when the social worker couldn't find a drop of alcohol in the house. There just wasn't enough evidence.

The social worker looked as if she had seen it all before and in the end, Harry wasn't even sure if she believed him anymore. Even if she did, she made it clear that there wasn't anything she could do. It was back to urgent cases with her.

Uncle Vernon soon showed up, demanding Harry come with him. Mr. Stenson held onto Harry's shoulder tightly, Mrs. Stenson cried, Kota swore at Harry's uncle until Harry shot her a desperate look and she shut up. They had no choice. If they refused to let him go home, the Dursleys could call the police and report them for kidnapping.

Backpack slung over his shoulder, he left with his uncle. He knew he couldn't be saved.

Surprisingly, Harry had been able to keep all of this from anyone in the wizarding world, not mentioning his home life at all in his letters aside from a few brief mentions of having new neighbors. Kota had been particularly in awe of Hedwig, whom he told them was trained like a carrier pigeon.

Even though he had to go back to the Dursleys, it wasn't actually as bad. The social worker threatened to visit before the end of the summer and reminders of that fact kept Vernon from really laying into him when drunk. Instead, there was a hole in Harry's wall from a punch his uncle had desperately wanted to lay on his nephew.

Now it was mostly just threats from his uncle about what he was going to do the next time he got his hands on Harry when all this social worker business was done with. Those fantasies seemed to keep Vernon under control and though it was disturbing to see his uncle staring blankly ahead, bottle of whisky in hand, muttering to himself about how he could kill his nephew, the relief that he would live to see Hogwarts again overwhelmed his worry about what dangers the following summer would bring.

On August 28, Harry was finally allowed to see the Stensons again. The Dursleys had some of Uncle Vernon's business clients over to dinner and Harry's record with dinner company apparently wasn't to their liking. Kota was the only one home and was ecstatic to see him, hugging him fiercely and checking for injuries.

They had a peaceful evening. Harry explained how to use Hedwig to send letters back to him and how to stay on the owl's good side. Kota insisted he should come home from his boarding school Christmas. He could stay with them and the Dursleys would never even know. The two were in high spirits when Kota's parents arrived home, but their moods dissolved into concern when they saw the somber looks they were greeted with.

They told Harry and Kota to sit down; there was something very important they needed to discuss. Harry asked if he should leave, but they refused; he should hear this too. They had been seeing doctors for a while now, but wanted to make sure they knew everything for certain before sharing the information. Mr. Stenson had cancer.

Harry couldn't concentrate on what they were saying about how they found out and the chances of fighting it. He knew little about cancer but from what he'd seen on those hospital dramas with Kota, those diagnosed were usually given an amount of time they had left to live. Harry desperately felt the need to ask but held his tongue. It wasn't his place. He wasn't actually part of this family.

Thankfully, Kota hesitantly voiced the question.

"It's just an estimation. Many patients live ten times as long as they first guess without even being cured...but they said I've already had it for a while and well...they estimate about six months," Mr. Stenson said hesitantly, seemingly unsure if he was doing the right thing in revealing this information. Kota let out a sob and Harry looked away. It was so soon. And he was going to be at Hogwarts until at least December

It was probably for the best. The Stensons needed time together as a family and that didn't include him.

His racing mind slammed to a halt. He blinked. He had never heard any wizards talking about cancer. Was there a way to cure it with magic? It was a long shot, too unlikely to even bring up...not that the Stensons even knew about magic, he reminded himself...but maybe. He had to hold on to that hope.

His thoughts were interrupted when a comforting arm hugged his shoulders. He looked up to see Kota crying into her dad's neck. Mrs. Stenson sat next to him on the couch, gently telling him that he had better get home by curfew so the Dursleys didn't get upset. She told him she was sorry to end his summer this way, but that it would all be okay. Harry looked at her in disbelief. He had never heard anything that could be further from okay. But then, maybe Mrs. Stenson had to hold on to something too.

She quietly wished him a good time at school, told him not to worry too much, and that they would love to have him during his Christmas break.

Harry walked back to the Dursleys in a daze, faintly registering that there were no extra cars in the driveway and it was therefore okay to go inside. His mind stayed foggy all the way to his room and he barely noticed Dudley's comment about him looking deranged.

On September 1st, Dakota showed up, offering to drive Harry to the train station. Despite Uncle Vernon's rivalry with the Stensons, the offer was too tempting to deny and soon Harry's trunk was in the boot while Harry sat quietly in the passenger's seat with Hedwig in his lap. Dakota drove in silence for a long time.

"I just can't believe it, Harry." Her voice sounded weary and raspy from crying.

"It just isn't fair," Harry agreed mournfully, stroking Hedwig through her cage.

After that, there didn't seem to be anything left to say for the rest of the trip.

Kota parked and walked Harry to Platform 9, carrying Harry's cage while Harry wheeled his trunk on a trolley. She wanted to see him onto his train but he said he needed a few minutes alone to recoup before getting on. Kota gave Harry a hug, which he returned without embarrassment and whispered in her ear, "I'm going to find a way to fix this."

She laughed and broke the hug, wiping away a tear. "That's what I like about you, Harry: forever thinking you can change the world and that it's up to you to do so. The only thing I want you to do is come home at Christmas, okay?"

He gave a nod of assent and, with a sad smile, she turned and walked off.

Harry looked at the familiar barrier. He reminded himself there was still hope ahead of him. There was still a chance he could fix this.

He took a deep breath before heading toward the barrier. He would not lose one more person in his life if he could stop it.

He would die first.