Harry hadn't gone to the circus expecting to be taken in by a crew of crazy redheads. Well, he really hadn't gone to the circus expecting anything. He was hoping to be ignored but, knowing the Dursely's, it was just as likely that he'd be yelled at for stepping wrong and getting dust on Dudley's new loafers. It was his cousin's birthday. Well, the date was actually about five weeks after his cousin's birthday, but they'd been driving in the car, squished in among all the possessions they had in the world—
To begin from the beginning, Harry Potter was essentially an orphan. His parents had died in a car crash before he was two and he didn't know much about them apart from that. His aunt Petunia, who rather resembled a flamingo, and her husband Vernon had—in every sense of the word reluctantly—taken him in and provided him with a bit a food and a place in the cupboard under their stairs. In exchange for their generosity Harry was expected to do all of the housework, put up with his cousins beatings, his uncle's verbal abuse, and his aunt's snarky comments about his parents. It wasn't a great life—or even a good life—but it was the life he knew.
And that was why days like this were so important. Days where the Dursley's followed Dudley's whim to go somewhere where Harry would be largely ignored. Where he could explore and his only worry was being in the car when the Dursley's left. The family had suddenly decided to move out of their last house and drive across the country side after some unpleasantness at their old home. After a full day and night of driving, Dudley's whining was even beginning to grate on his mother's nerves, so when he moaned that he be allowed to visit the circus that was advertised on the side of the road they were driving on—because his birthday hadn't even really been good and all the other boys had been to a circus and think of how stupid he looked in school being the only one not having seen a lion upthisclose—Vernon broke his determined journey to take his son—and nephew—to the circus.
And that's how Harry had ended up standing by himself—a bit chilly, feeling the wind seek out the spaces between himself and Dudley's old clothes—staring up at a poster on a wall. He'd been wandering about the circus for about two hours—just thinking that he should check to make sure the Dursley's hadn't left him—when a poster his size had caught his eye on the side of the barn that the main show of the circus was held in. Other than the glaring purple color, what had caught his eye was image of the person on the poster, who looked about his age, or perhaps a bit younger? Wearing a faded and torn purple leotard that had probably matched the color of the poster at one point, the girl had her hands on her hips and was staring cheekily out at whoever might glance toward the side of the barn on their way to see the animals or be accosted at the exit/gift-shop. The confidence she exhibited was uncanny. The poster held her full body in it's view so that, had it stood on the ground, Harry could have looked into the girls eyes straight on—or close enough. Printed across her knees were these words: "See the amazing Girl-Cannon-Ball! Exclusively at Weasley's Circus!"
He noticed that her short, choppy, violently red hair clashed awfully with the posters coloring right before he heard his uncle behind him. He couldn't help clenching his eyes and sighing as the diatribe that was always on the verge of erupting began.
"Oi! You! We've been looking ages for you, and here you are, staring at some goddamned barn wall, not giving a flipping fuck if your relatives have places to be—"
Harry felt his upper arm gripped roughly and he was pulled backwards and around in one motion. Behind and to the left of his uncle's florid face he could see his aunt making her dainty way towards them among the litter and scrubby grass. Spittle hit his face, but he didn't yet try to wipe it off, knowing that it would only inspire a higher volume and a tighter grip in his uncle. As his aunt reached them, her pinched face looking distressed—Harry knew from experience that this embarrassment was from Vernon causing a scene rather than from any concern on his part—he saw a short woman with strawberry blonde hair—and two boys with flaming red—start to make their way over. They were way over by the exit, but Vernon hadn't even reached the peak of his rant. He was really starting to get into his stride when the three came up beside him.
"And another thing—!"
"Sir, I'll thank you to unhand my customer," the woman said with a distinct edge to her voice. Even though she was surely a full half-foot shorter than Vernon, her gaze suggested that she was twice as mean and he'd better watch his step. Harry felt the grip on his arm tighten and knew there would be bruises by the morning.
"This isn't really any of your business," Vernon grit out from between his half-assed attempt at a smile. "My—well—this boy had us looking for him for hours, and—"
"Oh yes, I know the circumstances. I'd guess everyone on the grounds knows. And what happens on my grounds is my business. So I'll say it once more before I call someone over here to make you—let go of that boy."
Vernon peeled his sausage fingers off of Harry's arm one-by-one after an askance glance at Petunia, who squinted back in a way that suggested whatever kept them anonymous and leaving quickly was the best course of action. Harry quickly took three good steps back from his uncle, shoving his hands in his pockets. He wanted to rub his arm, but didn't want to give Vernon the satisfaction. It was unlikely the large man would have noticed, however, because all his attention was focused half-a-foot down at the woman who was currently standing up to him like Harry hadn't really ever seen before.
"We don't condone child abuse here, sir—so I'm going to have to ask you and the rest of your family to leave."
"Fine by me. Petunia—let's go!"
Petunia shoved her hand—which subsequently disappeared—into her son's and immediately made her way towards their car, a bit wobbly on her heels but determined. Vernon gave the shorter woman one last up-and-down glance meant to intimidate—which didn't seem to affect the woman in the slightest—before barking at Harry to follow him.
"Now just wait a moment—!" one of the boys behind the short woman spoke up. Looking at them, Harry noticed that the two of them were completely identical.
"Are we even sure that—this bloke…," his brother continued, looking at Harry.
"H-Harry," he responded after a bit of a delay, not realizing the boy was speaking to him and expecting a reply.
"Yeah, are we even sure that Harry here wants to leave?" the first boy continued.
"And with this lot no less! I'd rather have Charlie's job for a month before I went anywhere with these arseholes," the second boy added.
"Fred—George—hush." The woman turned to Harry, and all the hardness in her face just seconds before was gone. When she looked at him he felt that this woman was one he could trust. She seemed to exude an aura of simple goodness. "Harry—that's your name is it? Lovely name—do you want to go with these people? Did they even bring you?"
Harry nodded in response to the second question. Aunt Petunia and Dudley were waiting some distance away, Dudley too entertained so far to interrupt the scene.
"Yes, you want to go with them? Or yes they brought you?"
"Or both?" the second boy piped up.
"Or neither! Maybe this poor guy's been the victim of a kidnapping!"
A glare from the woman silenced the boys and convinced Harry that she was their mother. She turned back to him.
"I do not have time for—" Vernon began.
"Shut up you lout, before I have you arrested for child abuse. Let the boy say what he wants," The shorter woman bit back at him.
Harry's mouth was so, so dry. Why couldn't he just get the words out?
"I don't—I don't want to go with them." He finally managed to blurt out. "I don't."
The look on Vernon's face wasn't surprised, but rather fed-up.
"You know what? Fine. I've been taking care of her-he jerked a thumb towards his wife-sister's mistake for too many years! Don't leave with us! I'm washing my hands of this entire business."
Harry felt his eyes widen, because while the Dursley's did not provide a healthy living environment, he still doubted that he could do much better on his own.
"Well that's settled. Off you go," the woman said to Vernon's back as he huffed and stomped away, seeming to sweep up Dudley and Petunia in his tempest of being disgruntled as he passed. Dudley looked back at Harry, once, but soon—at Vernon's clip—they reached the exit and were past it to the parking lot.
Harry contemplated running after them, even decided to do it, but his feet wouldn't let him move. He looked at the woman next to him for some sort of help.
"Of course you'll stay with us dear—for as long as you need." She placed a hand on his shoulder, and with those few words Harry felt that he could breath again—at least a little bit. He used Dudley's sleeve, that came down past his elbow, to wipe Vernon's spit off of his face.
A/N: So this is the first chapter. Unedited because I was really excited about posting, sorry about that. I have no idea if I'll be able to keep up with this story but I certainly hope so. I will probably be posting art related to this fic over here: technicallyitis. tumblr. com.
