Welcome to the Dursleys

Harper awoke to pain, stench and darkness. She was no stranger to pain or stench. The bone deep pain of cancer had been eating from the inside for most of her young life. However, the sharp insistent pain radiating from her chest was different from any pain she'd ever suffered. She tasted of blood and stale vomit. She felt and smelled the unpleasant sensation of having fouled herself. What was going on? Where were the monitors? The IV? The lights so the nurses could check on her throughout the night. Where was... "Mom?! Mom! Mommy?"

Flailing about with her arms she connected with a hard wooden wall. Was she in her coffin? Was this the afterlife? Driven by desperation and terror she ignored the sharp pain in her chest, the taste in her mouth, and her foul state. She reached out and explored exploring her space by touch. Not a coffin. Too much vertical room, but the ceiling was slanted. She found the edge of her bed and crawled out. She immediately found another wall right beside the bed she'd awoken in. Whatever this space was it wasn't much bigger than a coffin. Her exploring hands found some kind of paneling in the wood. It wasn't a wall. It was a door. She twisted the doorknob. It rattled, but the door wouldn't open.

In terror she started pounding at the door. "Mom?! Someone? Anyone! Please help me! Someone! Where am I? Help me! Please." Again and again she slammed at the door. Each scream stabbed at sore aching place in her lungs. She'd been prepared to die with dignity in the peace and quiet of her hospital bed, but not like this.

"I'm going to teach the freak a lesson this time!" The voice was muffled through the wooden door but the shout of an angry man was clear. Suddenly light shown around the cracks of the door and a moment later the door flew open.

Harper barely had time to register the presence of a large walrus-like man filling the doorway before a foot connected with her face.

"It's two in the morning! Shut up you freak! Bad enough you ruined Dudley's birthday! Now you're waking us up in the middle of the night."

The kick had sent her flying back and left her stunned for a while. The foot had smashed her eye and it hurt bad, but the sudden motion made her ribs hurt worse. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"Because you're a freak. It's enough that we feed and clothe you. You should be grateful. What is that horrible stench? Petunia! Get in here. The freak is sick."

Petunia? Through the pain something clicked. Petunia and Vernon. She was dreaming. No, she wasn't dreaming. Dreams didn't hurt. She was hallucinating. Too much Harry Potter and too many drugs. This was all just a hallucination. Where was the call button? If she could find the call button and press for a nurse, this would all be over.

"What's going on, Vernon?" A scrawny woman in a houserobe had appeared and began berating her husband. "Why do you think it is my job to take care of its mess? Boy, get up. Go to the bathroom and clean yourself up. Then you need to clean up this mess."

If Harper didn't hurt so much she could laugh. "You look just like them. Not like the movie actors, but still just like them."

The Dursleys looked at each other in puzzlement. "I think he's mental," said Vernon finally.

A piggish boy looked down from the stairs. "What's going on?"

"Go to bed, Dudders. It's just Harry. Nothing to worry about," called Petunia. "I'll come tuck you in."

Vernon shook his head. "Boy, I'll leave your door open, but you had better get yourself and this mess cleaned up. I expect you to be back in here by the time I get up or else. You understand?"

Harper didn't understand, but with the fat fist of Vernon Dursley shaking in her face she knew not to say that. She also knew all about how to lie and smile through pain. "Yes sir, I understand."

"Good! Clean your sheets as well and take a shower. Just keep it down." With that he turned and left.

Alone in the hallway Harper lay there awhile in pain contemplating her situation. This was an incredibly vivid hallucination, but no other explanation made sense. Since she wasn't waking up she might as well run with it. However, that didn't mean she had to be the Dursley's punching bag and slave. One thing she always hated from the books was the Dursleys had never gotten their comeuppance. Harry had even ended on a semirespectful relationship with Dudley. What they'd done in the books was child abuse. She'd met more than one child abuse survivor during her hospital stays. No one who had seen a real victim of child abuse could every make fun of it. Locked in a cupboard, starved, beaten, those weren't things to joke about. While her brain had obviously dreamt up this twisted scenario, she didn't have to stay and take it. Shower first, but after that escape.

She forced herself to stand. The pain wasn't fun. It hurt, but she knew how to cope with pain. She started exploring downstairs but only found a half bathroom, just a sink and toilet, not bathtub. Fortunately, it also had a mirror. She took a moment to consider her reflection in the mirror. She was Harry freaking Potter, scar and all. No breasts just a flat chest, not that she'd ever had much in the way of breasts. Cancer had left her far too thin for them to really grow. She even felt her pants and felt a bulge as well as the wetness of urine. This dream was so disgusting and so vivid. She walked away clutching her side.

Exploring the house she found the kitchen and a phone. It was an old-fashioned wall-mounted land line. Why shower? Why escape? Why not just call the police now? While she was disgusted with her appearance, it would further convince anyone who saw her that she needed assistance promptly. Getting the Dursley's arrested for child abuse would be better than merely escaping. She picked up the phone and started to dial and then reconsidered. What if they heard her? Leaving the phone for a moment she explored further and went upstairs past pictures of Dudley, Dudley and Dudley. At the top of stairs she found a bathroom. She turned on the shower and left it running and then made her way downstairs. Quickly she returned to the phone and dialed 911. Nothing happened. From some dusty corner her brain dug up the factoid that it was 999 in England. She tried again.

"999 What is your emergency?"

Thank god. She hurt like hell, but even in a hallucination it would be worth it to see the Dursleys hauled away to jail, because that was what they so richly deserved. "My uncle beat me and locked me in the closet, but I've escaped."

"What is your name?"

"Harry Potter." Well, she certainly wasn't going to say Harper Potts.

"What is the phone number you are calling from?"

Harper rattled off the number conveniently printed on the phone.

"Where are you now?"

"I'm at home. Number Four, Privet Drive, Surrey." Wherever Surrey was. Somewhere close to London apparently.

"Are you hurt?"

"There is something wrong with my chest. I think something is broken. It hurts to breathe."

"Where is your uncle now?"

"He's upstairs asleep with my aunt and cousin." Harper imagined that would change when they heard sirens. "Can you tell them to leave the sirens off until they get here? I'll open the door for you."

"Yes, we can do that, Harry. Do you mind if I call you Harry?"

"No, I don't mind." Why not?

The 999 operator went on to ask more question about the injuries, the abuse, how long it had gone on. Harper freely related what she had read in the books about how Harry had been treated: abused his whole life, forced to wait upon them, Dudley had two rooms and Harry had a closet, shut in the closet for days and more. The operator kept talking and talking, which is probably what she was trained to do.

"Harry, the cops are pulling up outside now. Do you want to go let them inside?"

"Yes, I will, and thank you." Harper went to the door.

Two actual bobbies complete with their famous uniforms and nightsticks stood at the door. Both looked serious. One was slightly older and stouter with whiskers and the other looked almost too young to be a police officer.

"Good lord! This is no prank call, Frank," exclaimed the younger one.

"Shh, keep it down." His eyes focused on Harper. "Are you Harry Potter?"

"Yes, I am." Amazing how easy it was to claim the name.

"Come this way Mr. Potter. Let's keep you by the car until the ambulance arrives. The dispatcher said that you live here with your aunt and uncle. Where are your parents?"

"They're dead, sir, both of them." She was tempted at add that they were murdered by Lord Voldemort, but why get the Dursley's off by having the police question her sanity? "I think my next of kin after them is Aunt Marge, but please don't send me to her. She is as bad as they are. Sometimes she sets her dogs on me."

"Bloody hell. It just keeps worse and worse. Don't worry. We won't be sending you to your Aunt Marge."

Any further conversation was cut off by the quiet arrival of an ambulance. Harper was hustled over to it where she was quickly laid out on a stretcher. The paramedics started going over her. She got to see the police enter Number Four Privet Drive, but she didn't get to see the Dursleys hauled off in handcuffs. It felt almost comfortable to lay down and ignore the pain and let the paramedics work on her broken body.