Harry Dursley was never abused by his relatives. Well, not physically abused.
"Boy, get up! Where's breakfast? I can't be late to work again," Vernon Dursley shouted as he stumbled down the stairs, struggling to tie his necktie.
"It's on the table, Mr. Dursley," Harry stated calmly at said table, a piece of toast in one hand and the Daily Mail in another.
There had been plenty of moments where Vernon's temper was just a little too high and days where Petunia's perfectionist nature was just about too demanding, but Harry wasn't very bothered by it anymore. Dudley could also be obnoxious at times, but Harry was resolved to handle that as well.
"Well?" Vernon enquired as he bent over breakfast, giving up on his tie and instead focusing on shoveling food in his mouth without getting it on his dress shirt. Petunia huffed, rolled her eyes, and reached across Vernon's large body to fix his necktie. Dudley snickered from his position on the couch.
Harry had grown used to his family's quirkiness after living with them for almost twelve years now. He was accustomed to the quaintness of Privet Drive, the hustle-and-bustle of the morning, and the pile of chores he was given to occupy himself.
Harry didn't look up from the paper as he answered his Uncle, "You might want to go to work a few pounds heavy today, they lost." He emphasized the point by dropping the newspaper on top of the rest of the day's mail.
"What!? Dammit, this is what I get for trusting that bastard William! I should have known better. He never loses a bet!"
"Vernon!" Petunia smacked the back of her husband's head, "Language!"
Dudley giggled.
Vernon muttered his goodbyes as he shuffled out the door, not bothering with a coat, because for once in his lifetime, the weather was supposed to be decent.
"Remember, Dudley I'm taking you to be fitted today," Petunia told Dudley as Vernon's car drove off. Dudley moaned, resting his head back.
"But me and Piers were supposed to hang in town today," complained Dudley.
Petunia's nostrils flared, "There will be plenty of time for you to waste with your friends after your fitting. School is less than a month away and you need clothes for school more than you need to mess around with Piers. Also, it's 'Piers and I', Dudley."
Dudley got up from the couch, knowing he'd better listen or she'd lose even more of her patience. Petunia prodded Dudley up the stairs, so they could finish getting ready.
Harry completed his bread and eggs, gathered the dishes, and walked into the kitchen to clean them. Once done, he grabbed the list of chores on the counter and glanced at them. Sweep for floors, wash the bathroom, dust the living room, make the beds, Harry read off the list, and then I get to go outside.
Harry walked over to the cupboard under the stairs and grabbed the cleaning supplies from it. He then walked up the stairs to the first bathroom. Might as well get the worst part over with. Harry took the toilet scrubber and tried not to think too much about anything.
Once Harry was done with that, he took out a cloth, that had definitely seen better days, and dabbed it with a water and white vinegar mixture. The shower's tile started looking whiter and whiter with each pass. Always a dull moment at the Dursleys, thought Harry
Petunia stuck her head into the bathroom at some point, looking very uncomfortable in the doorway.
"We're leaving now," She said, shifting from foot to foot.
"Okay," Harry responded, not looking up from his task. Petunia nodded and practically run away from him.
Yes, Harry Dursley was never abused, just ignored. No, not ignored. Avoided, Harry corrected.
It was nearly eleven when Harry had finished up inside the house. As he stood in front of the closed door, excitement started to build within him. One might think it's strange, and maybe even a bit sad, for a boy on the cusp of teenage-hood to find going outside as something truly amazing, but Harry didn't care. He relished every breath he took outside the Dursley's house.
As Harry stepped through the door and onto the brick walkway, he felt his whole body open up, closed his eyes, and took a long, deep breath. He felt the sun tickle his face and warm every limb. The breeze gently flowed through his hair and almost felt like someone's fingers being lovingly brushed through. Harry heard the through all sounds of suburban life; the cars, the horns, the shouting neighbors, and instead found the quiet bit of nature underneath; the birds' wings flapping and their merry toons.
Harry opened his eyes and went to work, mimicking their calls with a quiet whistling of his own. After clearing and mowing the lawn, clipping hedges, and making sure the garden was at Petunia's standards, Harry retrieved his notebook and sat in freshly cut grass. He looked around, hoping to catch something with his eye.
Flipping through the notebook, Harry saw images of various trees, animals, humans, and more. Harry took out a mechanical pencil and started sketching a flower in Petunia's garden. A lily, if Harry wasn't mistaken. Harry was just working on the details of the pedals when he felt something tap his shoulder. Startled, Harry looked over, only to be poked in the eye with a stick.
"Ow!" Harry covered his injured eye and jumped up. "What was that for!"
"Nothing," Mary Juneberry, the neighborhood's self-proclaimed 'best-est adventurer' said as if nothing had indeed just happened. She held a stick in one hand and a travel sack in the other.
"It sure doesn't feel like 'nothing'." Harry rubbed his eye a little more for dramatic effect, before dropping his hand to his side.
"Well, that's what you get for not being more aware of your surroundings." Mary nodded her head, agreeing with herself. "I mean, what if I was a murderer!" She gasped.
"Then you would have had an awfully hard time trying to murder me with a stick. And then you would have had to escape the suburbs in broad daylight with several witnesses," Harry said motioning toward Mr. Sherman mowing the lawn across the street. He waved back at Harry. "And you say I'm not aware of my surroundings."
Mary hit his legs with the thin stick, breaking it in half, "Shut it, you ass." She then straightened herself up, puffing up her chest and pushing back her shoulders. "I am on a mission, and I was wondering if you'd want to join me."
"'Wondering' being forcing me to go with you?"
"Yes, but that's a lot less romantic way of saying that."
"I don't think either way is romantic."
Mary wiggled her eyebrows, "I can make it romantic if you want me to."
"Please don't."
Harry sighed and rubbed his face with his hands, "This was fine back when we were both eleven, hell maybe even earlier this year it was okay, but now Mary, now I'm almost thirteen. And teenage-hood brings with it certain responsibilities and maturity."
Mary snorted, "Okay, o-mature-one, what responsibilities are stopping you from having fun? Because I bet, you got nothing to do right now."
Harry thought back to the list in his pocket with all the chores already crossed off, "Maybe."
"Harry!" She pleaded. "Please! I waited forever for you to finish up your chores."
"Wait, were you watching me?"
Mary voice got a whole lot smaller, "Maybe."
Harry's face burst into a red fluster, "Dude, not cool! In fact, really really weird."
"Oh, come on, Harry, please!" Mary grabbed Harry's arm, yanking it as she said this. "I'm dying of boredom."
Harry rolled his eyes, "Fine. But only to shut you up."
Harry picked up his notebook and the various tools he used for the yard. As he walked over to the front door, Harry realized Mary was still following him. "Wait here, I gotta put some of this stuff away."
"You'd better hurry on back," Mary said pointing her figure at him impatiently.
Harry put his notebook in his bedroom upstairs and left a note on the counter saying that he was out.
"Okay," He said walking over to Mary near the curb, "Where are we going first?"
"To the playground!" Mary shouted raising her pointer finger toward the sky.
Harry rolled his eyes and waved goodbye to Mr. Sherman still mowing the lawn.
It didn't take for Harry and Mary to get to the playground. Partially because they knew the way there pretty well and partially because at some point Mary deemed it necessary for them to run as fast as they could away from her fellow explorers, which were for some reason invisible to Harry.
"I mean it's like this Harry; if they get the artifact, they might destroy the world with it, or do something equally as bad. I don't know what exactly they'll do with it yet, because I've never seen the object to know what power it holds, that's why we have to get to it first."
"I have a feeling you would be great at Dungeons and Dragons," Harry gasped out, trying to catch his breath.
Mary looked back at him, "I don't know what that is exactly, but I'm going to take that as a compliment."
"I don't know if you should or not."
The playground on Magnolia Road was old and a bit sad really. No children running around or swinging. It had been turned into a hangout for the rougher types of kids in Surrey. So it shouldn't have been that big of a surprise that Dudley's friends were there.
"Well, look what we have here, boys. Its little Harry Dursley," Piers Polkiss points out. "Hey, Harry, where the fuck is Dudley? He said he'd be over an hour ago."
Harry took a second to answer, having just been jolted from having fun with a friend to suddenly being questioned by someone who'd take no qualms punching his lights out.
"Dudley went with my Aunt Petunia to get his Smelting uniform refitted," Harry said, standing stiff as a board and looking Piers directly in the eyes.
Piers frowned, "They probably should'a just gotten him a new uniform with how much he's outgrown the old one. Last time I saw him in it at least."
Harry didn't comment.
Piers looked a bit frustrated, then he seemed to arrive at a decision and smiled cruelly.
Harry shivered.
"Boys, since Dudley ain't here, I reckon we have a bit of fun with Harry," Piers nodded at one of his buddies, "Grab em'."
Before Harry could react, his hands were forced behind him by two guys, one a foot taller, the other a foot wider. Piers slowly made his way over. Just as Mary figured out what was going on, she was held back by someone else in the gang.
Piers wasn't a big or strong person, in fact, he was about the same size and build as Harry. But he didn't need to be the best fighter, he was vicious in his own way; with his words. That didn't mean he didn't like punching and kicking Harry, it just meant that it didn't hurt as much as if Dudley were to be doing it.
"Really, Harry?" Piers taunted, a fake frown on his face, "I'm disappointed. Are you that much of a loser that you don't even fight back anymore?" Piers stomped hard on Harry's back. "Where's your pride? Aren't you a man?"
"Stop it!" Mary yelled.
She wrenched herself out of the person's holding her's grasp and ran over, launching herself at Piers. She pounded on his back with closed hands and when Piers turned around to tell her off, she decked him in the face.
The guy who was holding her before tackled her to the ground and then held her in a kneeling position. As Piers' buddies helped him up, he shrugged them off and stomped over to Mary. He backhanded her and when she turned back to face him, he kicked her in the gut. She slumped down.
Harry felt numb.
Yes, Harry had been beaten up by Dudley's gang many times before. Whenever Dudley wasn't around or was feeling particularly resentful, Harry was the first one to know. Sometimes, got away, if he was fast enough, but a lot of the time he wasn't. He'd gotten used to it. For the past two summers when Dudley and Piers were away from Smeltings Academy, Harry would have to double check over his shoulder. Harry thinks that due to being at another school than their victim made the boys antsy.
But in all of Harry's years of being the punching bag, he had never seen them even touch someone else. Never had Harry seen Piers dare to hurt one of his friends in front of him.
"We're done here, boys," Piers said, delivering a kick to Mary's head. As Dudley's gang walked away, a few of them stepped on Harry. But Harry didn't feel it.
His eyes were fixated on Mary's prone form, watching it rise and fall with every breath she took. He started crawling over to her and reached out to hold her hand.
Harry didn't realize he was crying until Mary reached out with her other hand to cup his face, wiping his tears away with her thumb.
"It's okay," Mary said with a wince. A great big bruise was forming on the side of her face and her lip was split where Piers had struck her in a blind rage.
Harry pulled her into a hug and sobbed, "No! It's not okay! They shouldn't have done that to you! You shouldn't have gotten hurt! It's me they hate! You're not apart of this!"
"Wow, doesn't that make me feel special."
Harry pulled away and looked at her again. Her light brown hair was matted slightly from blood and dirt, and her hazel eyes reflected back the depressing state he was in. Harry placed one of his hands on her cheek. A blush appeared lightly on her dark skin.
Harry remembered when he first met Mary Juneberry. It was their first day at Stonewall High together and she had sat beside him at the school's welcoming seminar. They weren't supposed to talk, but she had poked and annoyed him until he shouted his name just to make her stop. That had earned him a detention and a life-long friend.
"Um, Harry?"
He remembered when he found out she lived down the road from him and how 'not-so-casually' showed up to her door one day, pretending he didn't know she lived there.
"Harry?"
He remembered running around the Stonewall like idiots, playing pranks and make-believe as they hid from fellow students and teachers alike.
"Earth to Harry?"
He remembered how they went to school dances together and would spend the time making couples uncomfortable or getting loners to dance.
"Hello, Harry?"
He remembered all of this in flashes as he stared into her eyes. Moments of when they were both so happy and so filled with energy.
"Harry!?"
Mary's frightened voice brought him back to the present. Not much had changed, she still lay in his arms, but Harry had noticed that was dark out and that Mary's skin had a light glow to it. And it wasn't like, a glow of beauty, no Mary was glowing a faint golden color.
Right before Harry's very eyes, Mary's wounds started to heal themselves. Her bruises slowly faded until they vanished, the cut on her lip got smaller and smaller until it did so as well, and the blood and dirt all over her body simply disappeared. Then finally the gold glow itself dimmed until all that was remaining for light were the park's lampost and the sky of dusk.
Mary's eyes were the size of saucers as scrambled away from him. "Your eyes!" She said, "They were glowing!"
"It's okay, it's okay!" Harry tried to shift over to her, but she just kept moving away. "They aren't glowing now, are they?" He tried to reason.
"What the hell just happened!"
Harry had gotten used to a lot of things in Little Whinging, but if there was one thing he would never get used to, it would be his freaky . . . abilities. Never had he met anyone who could do what he could and never had he found out how he could do them. All he was told by his Aunt was to never use them or tell anyone about them. Which was very hard, especially when things like this happen.
"Mary, calm down. Everything's fine. Maybe it was just a trick of the light? The lampost's light reflected off of your eyes and into mine?"
Mary didn't at all calm, "Oh yeah, sure. Reflected lampost light makes your fucking eyes glow bright green! Makes perfect sense! Everything is completely fine!" Mary touched her stomach with her hand and then froze, "Harry, why am I fine? Why am I okay? Why am I not sour at all after all that?"
Harry definitely only had weak excuses so, "Maybe Piers has a weak right hook?"
Mary gave a great yell and slammed her head in her hands, breathing very loudly and very quickly.
"Fine, do you wanna know the truth?" Harry threw his hands into the air, "I don't know! I don't know what just happened! I don't know how I made it happen! I don't know I should do about it! I don't know who I am or where I come from. I don't who my parents are or what they were like. I don't anything at all." Harry was breathing heavily now, having said much more than he meant to. He took a second to compose himself, "Mary, I may not know any of that, but I do know it's cold, and that you're probably scared and afraid. But, please, calm down."
Harry looked back at Mary now and she was looking back at him, "I want to go home now."
"Okay," Harry said, exhausted.
Mary had to pretty much carry Harry home, his body having not healed during the whole glowing fiasco. Once they had Number Four in their sights, Harry finally spoke up.
"You can't tell anyone about this, you know?"
Mary nodded, "Yeah, I kinda figured."
Harry looked at her, "Are you going to be okay?"
"What are you talking about? Besides having my whole life being uprooted in a single afternoon, I feel pretty fantastic! Do you think I could take those glowy eyes to go?"
"Well, since they're something I kinda sorta need to see, I'm gonna say no."
"Ah, poo-y," Mary said with a small grin. "But in all seriousness, he'll be fine once I tell him I just lost track of time. He'll believe that more than anything else."
"Are you sure?" Harry looked at her, worry filling his eyes.
Mary looked back at him without a single shade of doubt, "I don't need pity, Harry."
"Okay."
They made it to the front door. The lights were still on in the house. Mary sighed, "Harry, if you ever want to talk about this, I'll listen. We're friends. Nothing's ever gonna change that, not even your weird superpowers."
Mary hugged Harry and then walked away, waving goodbye when she was down sidewalk quite a ways. Harry waved back and went inside. His relatives barely registered his presences as he went to his bedroom and flopped on his neatly made bed. Sleep greeted him just as eagerly.