22 June 1988
Harry opened his eyes wearily to an incessant rapping at his door and his aunt's shrill voice.
"Wake up, wake up you stupid boy!"
"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry mumbled.
Swinging his legs to the side he stood up and staggered. The world was spinning and he clutched his head in agony, the concussion obviously hadn't gone yet. Falling back on his bed, he closed his eyes and began breathing deeply. Focusing his mind, he pushed down the pain till it was just an itch, a small thrumming surrounded the wound; it was almost second nature by now. Standing up again, he reached into the small groove beside his bed that housed his glasses and put them on. The shapes in the darkness of his boot cupboard came into focus and he sneered in disgust. Shaking his head, he pushed open his door and began blinking rapidly in an attempt to adjust his eyes to the onslaught of light.
Stumbling towards what he thought was the kitchen, Harry was immediately pushed towards the stove to start the family's breakfast. Schooling his face into an indifferent mask he lurched towards the fridge, pulling out the typical foodstuffs for a Dursley breakfast; eggs, bacon, and sausages. He began cooking, careful to make sure his sleeves didn't catch on fire; he wasn't able to see over the stove yet. The smells of breakfast seemed to summon the remaining Dursley's and Harry continued to focus on breakfast with only the occasional shiver.
Vernon glared at Harry as he reached blindly for his newspaper, thinking that if he took his eyes off the freak for even a moment then some sort of unnaturalness would occur. Petunia pursed her lips in disdain at the sight of her nephew, his clothing hanging off him like filthy, matted rags. Finally, Dudley blundered in, smirking he strolled over and punched Harry in his back. Biting the inside of his cheek, Harry refused to make a sound knowing it would only make it worse. Petunia tutted at Dudley half-heartedly, while Vernon gave a nod of approval, causing Dudley to swell with pride.
Grimacing, Harry turned the stove off and served breakfast on three plates then brought them over to the table. After serving his family Harry sat down in his chair, nibbling at the scraps Vernon occasionally tossed him. There were sharp pains in his shoulder and he looked up to see his Aunt digging in her fingernails; she motioned with her head towards Vernon, her mouth set into a thin line. Harry looked over at Vernon, waiting to be addressed. Gesturing with his meaty hands Petunia released Harry, leaving spots of blood from where her fingernails broke the skin.
"Boy, I will have no unnaturalness tomorrow," Vernon began.
"Unnaturalness, sir?" Harry asked.
Vernon narrowed his eyes at Harry warningly, "Yes, since Ms. Figg has decided to get her bloody leg broken- "
"Vernon!" Petunia reprimanded. "Dudders" she cooed, "why don't you go upstairs to play your video games?"
Dudley looked at Vernon questioningly and at Vernon's nod he lumbered out of the kitchen and towards his room.
"Now, as I was saying boy" Vernon spat, "There will be no unnaturalness tomorrow, you are to be on your best behaviour at the circus. If you're not, well we'll bloody well leave you there, got it?"
"Yes," Harry said.
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good, now I believe Petunia has some chores for you." At that, Vernon got up and pecked Petunia on the cheek, then proceeded to the door. Giving Harry one last scathing look, before he set off to work. Harry looked at Petunia and without uttering a word she pointed to the garden. Harry knew the routine.
After hours of gardening under the sweltering summer heat, Harry heard a car pull into the driveway. Vernon was home. Dusting off his hands he proceeded into the kitchen. Upon entering, Petunia shoved a glass of water at Harry and then gestured towards the food to prep and make into dinner. Sighing, Harry went to prepare dinner while Petunia greeted Vernon at the door. After placing the chicken in the oven, Harry stretched his back, sighing in contentment as his bones popped.
"Boy!
Harry turned to see Vernon directly behind him, "yes, Uncle Vernon?"
"Tomorrow is Dudley's birthday and I swear if you show any sort of freakishness you will wish you were never even born. Got it?"
"Yes, sir" Harry mumbled.
Giving a jerky nod, Vernon strode off, leaving Harry alone in the kitchen. Harry looked at his reflection in the oven door and scowled; he hated what he saw. His baggy clothes only accentuated his skinniness, he was a walking skeleton with poor-fitting clothes. His gauntness made his eyes look impossibly bigger and they were giving off a subtle green glow. He was seething. Suddenly, the window to his side cracked. Startled by the sound he looked up, seeing the crack Harry started shaking. Surreptitiously he looked around and was relieved to see that none of his relatives were around. Reining in his emotions, he glanced at the oven and then the clock, it was time to put on the rest of the food.
It was 7'o'clock when dinner was ready, much to Dudley's displeasure. He whined at Petunia, thinking that maybe if he made a fuss it would be ready sooner. It didn't work. So when Harry came out and tentatively told Vernon that dinner was ready, Dudley launched into the kitchen like a rocket. At the sight of the plate in front of him, he began salivating but restrained himself till his parents joined him. Once they did Dudley threw himself into his food like a starving animal, only barely remembering to use his cutlery. Harry managed to keep the disgust off his face, but couldn't help the slight curl of his lip. A sharp pain ran through his leg and he grimaced, looking away from Dudley he noticed Vernon regarding him with narrowed eyes. Harry gulped and turned his gaze towards his hands on his lap, making shapes with his fingers to keep himself entertained.
There was a gasp from the seat beside him, Petunia. Harry followed her gaze and saw that she had noticed the crack in the window, she looked at him accusingly. Harry tried to look innocent, widening his eyes and looking sheepishly down at his hands but it only enraged her further.
"What did you do, boy?" Petunia screeched.
At this Vernon raised his head and turned to wherever his wife was glancing. Seeing the crack, he became purple in the face. He started spluttering, his neck wobbling from sheer indignation. Petunia placed a hand on Vernon's shoulder, silently reminding him that Harry will be accompanying them tomorrow. Dudley looks disappointed at the lack of a show, but positively gleeful when Harry was sent to his cupboard without dinner and in until tomorrow.
That night, Harry law awake in his cupboard. His stomach was rumbling due to lack of food, but that was hardly new so he ignored it. His mind kept conjuring images of bright colours, men breathing fire and animals doing tricks. He was excited for tomorrow. Tossing and turning he tried to get comfortable, but it was futile. His bed was nothing more than a threadbare, moth-eaten mattress. Beating the lumps out of the mattress once again, Harry collapsed exhausted. He could never do too much physical activity. Closing his eyes to the darkness of his cupboard, Harry once again saw flashes of colours that would be evident tomorrow. He fell asleep with a smile on his face, oblivious that tomorrow everything would change.
The next morning Harry was peering through the crack of the door, waiting for Aunt Petunia to unlock his door. He was practically bouncing where he stood, he was so excited. At the sound of footsteps, Harry leapt back on his bed, not wanting to seem too eager. At the sound of rattling and Petunia's typical morning greeting, Harry walked sedately out of his cupboard and towards the kitchen. He didn't want his family to know just how much he was looking forward to this. Harry started cooking breakfast, again careful of his sleeves. Looking around he noticed the pile of presents in the lounge room. Harry raised his eyebrows at the sheer size of the pile, it looked to be at least 20. Grumbling bitterly, Harry turned his attention back to his cooking only barely able to brace himself against the incoming punch from Dudley. Grunting slightly in pain, he bit his lip to keep from making any more noise, but Dudley soon lost interest in Harry once he caught sight of the presents.
Hulking over, Dudley began to tear into his presents. Wrapping paper tossed aside haphazardly as Dudley only wanted what was inside. Petunia cooed at Dudley, continually addressing him as 'Diddydums' much to Harry's amusement. Vernon merely stood to the side, watching Dudley with pride and occasionally casting glowering looks towards Harry. Once Harry had served breakfast, Petunia sent him to the lounge room to clean up the mess. Picking up the smatterings of wrapping paper, he looked back at the Dursley's longingly. Without him in the picture, they looked like a real family – affectionate and loving. Shaking his head, he went back to picking up the rubbish. His fingers closed around a piece of soft paper, it felt malleable between his fingers and it was a lovely shade of emerald green. Thinking that it seemed somewhat familiar, Harry slipped it inside his pants pocket promising himself to keep it safe.
By the time he finished, Petunia was soon yelling at him to get ready. Saying that if he wasn't ready in 10 minutes they would leave him behind. Not wanting to miss out on the circus, Harry bounded off to have a quick shower and get dressed. With two minutes to spare, he quickly hid the piece of paper beneath his mattress and then waited at the door. It was another ten minutes before the others were down and by then Harry was practically vibrating with anticipation. Petunia eyed him cautiously then pushed him towards the car. He was barely buckled in before they zoomed off towards the circus.
When the Dursley's reached the circus, Harry was much more cowed. The car trip consisted of punches from Dudley coupled with warnings and threats from Vernon. Petunia just preferred to act like Harry didn't even exist. Climbing out, Harry was immediately shocked at the smells and colours that surrounded him. It was beautiful. Entranced Harry began to wander away, he was stopped by a rough pull on his shoulder. Glancing up, he again caught sight of his Aunt's bird-like talons digging into his shoulder. Grimacing, Harry allowed himself to be dragged back to his other relatives. Vernon's face had begun to go red and when Petunia placed Harry in front of Vernon, Petunia's claws were soon replaced by his Uncle's meaty paws.
"Boy, you are not to wonder off. Understand?"
At Vernon's continual shaking, Harry could merely nod. Vernon eyed Harry for any dishonesty, apparently satisfied he gave a jerky nod and then proceeded to drag him along to the large tent in the centre of the grounds. At the entrance Vernon's arm stopped Harry from walking in, he glanced at his uncle questioningly and was merely dragged to the side.
"You are to wait for us here, boy. You are not to wander off, sneak in or anything of the sort and certainly you are not to parade your abnormalities about. Understand?"
Harry glared at Vernon but gave a slight nod. Of course, his relatives had to ruin even this for him. Satisfied, Vernon went and stalked off towards the rest of the family. Steering them in, Vernon gave Harry one last warning look before he disappeared into the tent. Harry decided to make himself comfortable, sitting down and leaning against a nearby post. He wasn't bothered by the state of the ground, dusty from the constant trampling of many feet with smatterings of rubbish everywhere. Sighing Harry closed his eyes, trying to get lost in his imaginings and the stories he's read from the Dursley's small collection of books.
He was remembering the scene in Macbeth where Lady Macbeth was attempting to wash the blood from her hands when the sound of laughter caught his attention. Pulling back his focus to reality, he glanced to the side and came across an animal show. It must have been set up while he was lost in his own mind. Looking up at the sky and determining that not much time would have passed he wandered over. A man wearing obscenely bright clothes and a top hat was showing a number of animals to the crowds of awed children and adults. Slipping through the crowd, Harry soon managed to beat the very front, where the man was just pulling another animal out of a large box. It seemed to be a very large snake. Immediately a number of children and adults alike stepped back, leaving Harry a few steps ahead of everyone.
The man smiled congenially at Harry, "would you like to pet the snake?" he asked.
Harry looked tentatively at the man, and then surveyed the crowds. At a few encouraging smiles from the adults he stepped forward.
"Now don't be too sudden, she is fairly new to these kinds of shows and it wouldn't do to scare her."
Harry nodded and slowly walked forward, careful to make no sudden movements. The snake eyed him warily but obviously did not deem his as a threat so it let him approach as she rested across her owner's shoulders. Reaching out a hand towards the snake, the snake's forked tongue darted out to taste him. Laughing in delight he started stroking the snake, the snake began to hiss in contentment. Smiling the man offered to let Harry hold the snake. Harry was hesitant as he didn't want to seem too eager, but the man brushed him off and warned him that the snake would be a bit heavy before he laid it across the young boy's shoulders.
"What is your name?" Harry asked the snake, slipping effortlessly into parseltongue. No one noticed him but the man, as he had brought out another animal, but he had heard and turned to look at Harry at the sound of hissing.
"My name is Avare" the snake replied, eyeing the boy curiously. "Yours?"
"I'm Harry"
The snake nodded as if it expected as much, but didn't say anything more. She was content to lie there, almost purring at Harry's attentive petting. Harry continued petting with a smile on his face, not noticing the curious looks he got from the man. Twenty minutes later, Harry was still petting the snake. The man decided that it didn't do any harm to leave her out as she seemed comfortable and the boy was obviously happy. But that changed when he heard a bellowing voice.
"Boy!" Vernon shouted.
Swallowing down his fear, he tried to get the man's attention but he was engaged in a conversation with another child and he didn't want to seem rude.
"What is wrong?" Avare asked she noticed how Harry started trembling.
"My uncle is wondering where I am", Harry replied simply.
"That should not mean to cause you so much fear" Avare wrapped around the boy protectively. "What are you afraid of?"
"Punishment."
Just then Vernon had broken through the crowd and came standing in front of Harry, his face purpling, he gestured for Harry to come to him – now. Trembling, Harry nodded and tried to move Avare but she just curled around him tighter and began hissing threats at Vernon. Harry stroked her head and whispered that he would be fine, that she needs to let go of him or it will just get worse. She reluctantly slithered off and went back into the box, giving a last warning hiss in Vernon's direction before she curled up. Harry turned to Vernon, who was practically shaking in rage, it was palpable. Giving the man who owned Avare a small smile, he lugged himself to where his uncle was.
Seizing his arm, Vernon dragged him back to the car with Petunia and Dudley trailing behind. Harry was practically thrown into the car and got buckled in just as the car sped back to the house. The whole way, Dudley complained at how his birthday was ruined, he didn't even get to go to the hallway of mirrors. At every complaint, Vernon's face became redder, almost puce, and his grip tightened on the steering wheel, whereas Harry's face gradually turned paler. This was bad.
Vernon kept a hand on Harry's shoulder the whole way up the footpath. To anyone else he would seem like a concerned uncle, but Harry could feel Vernon's fingers digging into his shoulder; his grip was going to leave bruises. Harry was barely breathing by the time they entered the house, his breaths were shallow and rapid. His heart rate speeding up as Vernon led him to the kitchen. Dudley attempted to follow them but Petunia's hand on his shoulder prevented him. He begrudgingly went to sit with his mother on his couch, watching TV without really watching. Their attention was still on Harry and Vernon.
As soon as Vernon deemed them out of sight, he began berating Harry. Every insult and insinuation were accompanied with a strike, and Harry was fighting to keep himself upright. At a particularly bad kick to his shin, his knees buckled and he slid to the floor. He instinctively curled in on himself, attempting to protect his face with his arms and his ribs with his legs. Tears were streaming down Harry's face as the beatings didn't stop, they merely intensified. Vernon continued to criticize Harry, saying he was worthless, a freak, a burden on his family and how they should have shipped him off when they first caught sight of him. Vernon occasionally slandered Harry's parents, saying if they weren't such useless freaks Harry wouldn't have been here, he would have been with his own kind, whatever that meant.
Harry began to grow angry, hateful. He was disgusted with himself for allowing this to happen to him, but most of all he was disgusted with his so called family. Harry realised that in the end he would never be accepted among them, he would always be the outsider, the burden, a slave. Harry's eyes began to glow with barely concealed power, he resented his relatives, and he loathed them. Peeking between his fingers he saw Vernon's face, purple and shaking. Catching Harry's eye, Vernon smirked as he began to lift his foot in anticipation for another kick. Harry began to panic, curling into himself even tighter. Vernon could be heard laughing just above Harry's heartbeat.
Vernon smiled cruelly at Harry, "You're barely even human boy, nothing but a freak, an abnormality. You are a burden to this family and you will pay your dues."
Harry gritted his teeth at that comment, paying his dues! Paying his dues! He's been paying them ever since he was born. Harry felt a resurgence of rage at the comment on how he was less than human, somehow below these disgusting, ugly people. Harry's eyes began to glow brighter and the windows started shaking, violently.
"Now you will stop this unnaturalness boy! I have half a mind to toss you out on the streets."
The windows began cracking under the weight of Harry's magic and then he saw red.
Albus Dumbledore was sitting back in his chair, calmly sucking on a sherbet lemon. He was contemplating the upcoming school year and the new students that would be arriving. Hoping that he could steer the new, young minds in the right direction; towards the light, so to speak. As he was chuckling to himself at his clever pun, his instruments that observed the wards of Harry Potter's residence sprung to life. They were whirring and spluttering, and giving off little puffs of smoke, after about five minutes they went dead. Dumbledore lifted his head at the sound and when he saw the instruments go dead, his face became ashen. Fawkes trilled questioningly at Dumbledore, but for once he ignored her. Scanning the said instruments with his wand he determined that the blood wards were… gone. Panicking, he quickly cast a tracking spell on Harry Potter, he heaved a sigh of relief when he saw the boy was still at 4 Private Drive. Maybe the instruments just malfunctioned. To be certain Dumbledore flooed to the Three Broomsticks and then apparated to 4 Private Drive.
He appeared outside of what was once the door, only its blackened frame signified what it once was. The sun was hanging low over the horizon and ministry officials were running around rampant, obliviating people at will and giving off the story that a gas main broke, causing the explosion. Dumbledore picked his way through the rubble, passing the burnt corpses of Petunia and Dudley as he searched for Harry. He found him in the kitchen, curled into himself next to the burnt corpse of his uncle. His clothes were in shreds and matted with blood and he could hear a soft whimpering. Seeing a ministry official close by, he signalled to him to call a medi-witch before crouching down beside Harry. The official gave him a questioning glance but didn't argue.
Dumbledore placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and the whimpering immediately subsided. Harry began slowly uncurling himself, almost as if he was in anticipation of a strike. Harry slowly lifted his face from his hands, and looked up at the man in front of him. His eyes were still giving off a subtle glow, coupled with the tear streaks and the gauntness of his face, Harry Potter looked quite alien. Shaking himself out of his musings, Dumbledore asked Harry how this happened, whether he saw anyone suspicious around. Harry said he hadn't seen anyone around the house since he got back from the circus with the Dursley's. Dumbledore smiled at this, ah the circus always colourful and enchanting.
At Dumbledore's soft smile Harry began to eye him cautiously, this man in front him, whoever he was, was quite odd. Draped in strange clothing of bright yellow and aqua, Harry almost had to immediately close his eyes so he didn't throw up. The man in front of him exuded a genial grandfatherly attitude which set him on edge, in his experience people were never what they appeared to be.
"Who are you?" Harry rasped.
"Ah, Harry my dear boy. I am Professor Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts."
Harry gritted his teeth at the familiar term but bit back the scathing remark. "Hogwarts, did you say? Is that some sort of asylum?"
Dumbledore's forehead furrowed at that, asylum? How could the boy think he was from an asylum?
"My uncle always threatened to send me to one," Harry clarified.
Dumbledore set his mouth in a thin line at this, "No Harry, I'm not from an asylum. Hogwarts is a boarding school, a school for magic."
"Magic? So, I'm not a freak?"
"Freak? No, my dear boy, you are completely normal. You are what we call a wizard."
Harry slowly sat up, careful with his injuries. Dumbledore made a move to help him but Harry flinched away violently at his touch. After a few more efforts, Dumbledore admitted defeat and dropped his hands. Harry looked a little relieved at the headmaster's resignation and only took a little more time before he was sitting upright, with his legs stretched out in front of him.
"Did they know?" Harry motioned his head towards Vernon, refusing eye contact with the strange man in front of him.
"Yes, Harry. They knew"
Harry nodded slowly, "Is that why they hated me?"
"I'm sure they didn't hate you, my boy."
Harry began to laugh bitterly; it was slightly on the hysterical side. "How would you know?"
Dumbledore began to shift uncomfortably, "Harry," he began slowly, "how did this happen?"
Harry gulped and brought his knees in, he winced at the pain. "I didn't mean to…" he whispered, slightly rocking himself.
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow but otherwise kept up the grandfatherly persona. "You did this, my boy?"
"He was hurting me, he wouldn't stop. I – I thought I was going to die." Harry started hyperventilating.
"Out of my way, out of my way. Where is my patient?" A brisk looking woman came striding forth when she saw Harry nearly fainting from lack of oxygen her eyes hardened with determination. She crouched beside Harry and gave Dumbledore a scathing look. Seeming to blame the boy's current condition on him.
"Drink this," she said, handing Harry a vial of calming drought. He chugged down the potion with a practiced efficiency which caused the nurse to raise an eyebrow.
"I'm used to self-medicating," Harry added sheepishly.
Her lips pressed into a thin line at this. She took out her wand, silently casting some diagnostic spells; a parchment appeared out of thin air and her mouth condensed further. "Right Mr. Potter, you are to come with me to the hospital."
Harry nodded dejectedly and attempted to stand up, wincing in pain the whole time.
The medi-witch sighed, "Mr. Potter, I insist you stay seated."
Harry didn't listen and continued to try to get up, rejecting the touch of anyone who offered him assistance. He was standing tall for a few seconds, smiling proudly before his knees buckled under him. The medi-witch caught him just before he hit the ground, and started lecturing him on his weak condition.
"You are to listen to my instructions if you want to get better, is that clear Mr. Potter?" the medi-witch stated.
Harry grumbled something under his breath.
"What was that?"
Harry clenched his jaw, "yes" he hissed.
"Good," the medi-witch nodded. "Now Mr. Potter, I'm going to side-along apparate you to St Mungo's. You need to hold onto me very tightly, do you understand?"
The medi-witch stretched out a hand towards Harry, he looked at it warily before placing his small hand in hers. She was about to apparate when Dumbledore cut in.
"Nurse Junith, I know you mean well but wouldn't it be more appropriate if we apparate into the Hogwarts medibay. After all, we don't want Harry here overwhelmed by the press."
Harry was once again gritting his teeth over the over-familiar tone but remained silent. Nurse Junith, however, went off, noting how Harry needed treatment that only St Mungo's could provide.
Dumbledore once again insisted that Hogwarts had all the necessary materials and Harry had to wonder why Dumbledore was so persistent.
"Listen here Dumbledore, Mr. Potter here is my patient and he will get the treatment he deserves," Nurse Junith said in a threatening tone.
Dumbledore once again opened his mouth to protest, but a glare from Nurse Junith caused him to close his mouth with a snap and give a conceding nod. He was still clearly very annoyed. Nurse Junith turned to face Harry again, pulling Harry's focus back to her rather than the strange man behind her. She gave him a small smile and asked if he was ready to go. He turned his head to look around at the ruins of the Dursley's, amazed that it was him that did this.
He looked back up at her and smiled softly, "Yeah, I'm ready."