Chapter 2: You Want Out, Kid?
Content warnings: Food mention, abuse, abuse rescue
A week or two passed since that venture when Uncle Vernon announced that tonight was an important night. A representative of a major American company called Stark Industries was in Britain, and Vernon managed to secure a dinner with them.
Harry was expected to cook and then retreat to the cupboard, stay there, and be quiet until the next morning to make breakfast. Of course, Harry usually maintained quiet conversations with themself in the cupboard, but was never been caught. Hoping that if the dinner went well Uncle Vernon would be in a better mood, Harry went down to the deli to pick up something for the dinner.
Irina and two of her children, Yakov and Anna, were busy at the counter. Irina didn't notice them right away, but when she did, she rushed Harry over and greeted them with hugs.
Harry grinned, "Hey Yasha, Anna."
Harry asked after Ava, Irina's youngest, and learned that Ava was at an impromptu sleepover arranged after she and a friend tired themselves out playing after shul and dinner. Irina ushered Harry to the cash with Anna.
"So, Annika, how's school?"
Anna scowled. "Everybody asks about school, Mama, our rabbi, Alina, Yasha, you. School's fine. How about you? Any hair incidents lately?"
Harry grimaced back. "That wasn't my fault, come on Annika, you know I didn't do that, and I couldn't have. How's Alina?"
"Fine, her parents still don't like me but we'll manage."
"They did catch the two of you snogging, didn't they?"
Anna flushed, sighing, "It wasn't how we intended to tell them."
The conversation after was easy, and Harry eventually mentioned the night's job. Irina muttered something uncomplimentary, presumably about the Dursleys, in Russian, and after about 20 customers came through, Irina sent Harry home with the night's dinner and a delicious sandwich, pastrami on rye. Harry made sure to finish the sandwich before they got back, and then started to do what little was left of preparation for cooking dinner. Harry sliced, diced, boiled, broiled, and washed their hands. Rinse and repeat.
Harry pulled out the weekend's homework, a worksheet on fractions and a reading comprehension worksheet, and worked at the maths and read the passage in between kitchen tasks. The fractions were easy enough to simplify, and a number of them worked out to whole numbers, Harry realized, wiping their eyes on a sleeve after dicing an onion. The passage wasn't too much of an issue either, Harry realized.
Supposedly it came from The Lost Years of Merlin by TA Barron, a book about a young wizard. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia wouldn't like that book very much, Harry realized; magic was like a cuss word in their household. Grinning as they turned down the heat with half an hour to spare, Harry resolved to read that book next time they managed to go to the library. Harry began to wind down the dish, since they couldn't be out to plate it and risk being seen. Satisfied that the kitchen was in a stable state, they gave Petunia careful instructions for how to take things out and serve them. Everything would come out in the span of a minute, giving her five minutes to plate and serve before Vernon's guest arrived.
Harry retreated to the cupboard, hoping everything went according to plan, and began to talk to themself. The conversation quickly turned from wondering what kinds of conversations they'd have with Irina if she were their mother to a conversation about superheroes to a game of blindfold chess, which was quickly given up as Harry couldn't remember where the pieces were.
Harry was too engrossed in conversation about the teacher whose hair turned blue to notice the clack of heels walking past the cupboard, but was well enough aware by the time the heels turned around. Harry quieted, but by that time heard a deep, calming voice, just a whisper.
"Hello, is someone in there?"
Harry was silent, but couldn't help but breathing a little nervously.
"My name is Stevie. You seem about school-age, so I assume people have heard about this and done nothing. You want out, kid?"
Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia wouldn't hesitate to throw them out once they found out Harry was caught in the cupboard, and being homeless wherever this Stevie was taking them couldn't be as bad as being homeless in Surrey. "Yes."
"Alright," Stevie whispered back. "I'll pick the lock on this thing, and leave you my watch. I'll be leaving in exactly 20 minutes. Can you get out the house quietly and meet me out front then?"
"Yes," Harry whispered back, and heard the lock and caught the watch and small light pushed through the door, and heard the sound of heels walking away.
Harry kept their eye on the watch, planning an escape route that involved getting out through a bathroom window quietly exactly as the Dursleys were showing Stevie out. Harry climbed out the window just as the Dursleys retreated into the house, and then pretended to be tending the garden. Stevie covered Harry's shadow and Harry piled into the backseat of a mini.