Pale in the Shadows

Part I Magick in the Air – There is No Such Thing Chapter 1

Warning: Abuse is never okay no matter what means you try to justify it. Children do not get over it, they adapt and develop. What hurts us either makes us stronger or breaks us.


His ribs hurt as he tried to situate himself on the trundle bed, the pillow pressed firmly into his face. As he tried to find a more comfortable position, he heard a faint crack. Realizing he had left his glasses on, the plastic jutting painfully into his nose, he sat up with a wince and pulled the thick frames from his face. 'Oh no.' Harry Potter felt tears burn at his eyes, panic sinking into his heart as he held two halves in his hands. Looking around the cupboard in which he slept, thankful for the little light that shone in from under the doorway, he found one of his socks and folded the pieces inside, tucking them under his pillow. He curled on his side, ignoring the throbbing of bruised ribs.

I'll have to tape them when Aunt Petunia goes shopping. I'm sure that Dudley's going over to a friends since it's the holidays, so I'll be left alone because he has work tomorrow. Everything should be fine so long as he never knows that I broke them. Harry closed his eyes, resting his head against the pillow. He listened calmly as his aunt's footsteps shuffled about and echoed as she went up the stairs. With each creak of the worn wood, he began to remember that morning, his eyes burning with unshed tears.

Harry didn't usually do anything during the holidays except stay in his room under the stair reading books or going for walks around the neighborhood; however, for once Dudley had stayed in , so they had decided to watch some cartoons on the television. They were laughing and joking about magick and the like when Vernon came barreling into the living area having just gotten home from work, his face livid. He had ordered Dudley out of the house and, panicked, Dudley had complied. Harry couldn't blame his cousin because he too had wanted to run. Before he knew what was going on, the television had been unplugged, and Vernon was picking Harry up by his collar.

'NEVER EVER ARE YOU TO MENTION MAGICK IN THIS HOUSE!'

The rules are absolute. Harry found himself blinking away tears as he quietly cried.

In the Dursley house there were two sets of rules. One belonged to Petunia, Harry's aunt, and were such things as wash your hands before dinner, don't track mud into the house, take care of trash every other week, and keep your room tidy. The other set were made by Uncle Vernon and were solely for Harry. No make-believe in the house, no games or fiction books, and the words like 'magick' or involving magick were forbidden. The most important rule of all was Harry was not permitted to tell Petunia about the special rules or the punishments.

Clenching his eyes, Harry could still feel his uncle's fist smacking him in the ribs. 'You are not mention magick nor are you to be watching television! How many times do I have to tell you!'

I don't even remember when or why he started to hate me, Harry thought. I mean, I've always been in the cupboard, but that's because they don't have any other rooms. The Dursley family lived in a one bedroom house with a large living area where Dudley slept on the couch, a kitchen, bathroom, and even small cellar-like area. Harry understood that they could have very well put him up for adoption, as his uncle so kindly reminded him, but instead they had kept him giving him the bed-size closet under the stairs.

Slowly his breathing evened out and his thoughts grew fuzzy. Harry knew he must have fallen asleep when he saw two blurred figures before him. He called out to them, but no sound escaped his throat, and though he tried to move it felt like he was stuck in place. Fighting against the invisible force, he tried to run, propelling his arms, tugging at his legs. Somehow he knew that it was his parents.


The morning sun was just creeping up as Petunia stared out at the lawn through the eastern window. The grass needed to be cut and the flowerbeds were in danger of being overrun by weeds. Fingers itching to get to work, she sipped at a mug of steaming Darjeeling when she heard panicked whimpers and a scream that caused her to jerk. Setting the cup down, she rushed over to the closet and tried to open the door; however, it didn't budge. 'Harry?' she knocked on the door. 'Are you all right?' Silence greeted her as she tried the knob once more. 'Harry, did you lock the door?'

'Aunt Petunia?' the voice was unsure, disconnected from reality. 'I-I didn't lock the door. There's no lock from the inside.'

Petunia frowned and shuffled back to the kitchen, opening up the drawer with spare keys to the car, the storage room, and on a long strand of red ribbon, the key to the closet. Why would he be locked in? Maybe Dudley did it as a prank? She felt a strange niggling as though she was leaving something out, but she shrugged off the feeling. Unlocking the door, she opened it to find Harry sitting, curled around his legs, his face splotchy from crying, and the peculiar scar on his forehead fiery red. She reached out and gently touched his cheek, feeling him flinch against her touch. Ignoring it, Petunia sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the boy into her arms, stroking his back soothingly. 'What happened?'

'Nothing.' His voice held a finality in it. Unmoving.

'Was it just a bad dream? Do you want to talk about it?'

The boy shook his head, slowly pulling out of his aunt's arms. He looked pensive, but instead of saying anything about his dream, he muttered, 'I'm okay. Really.'

Not wanting to press the matter, she reached out and wiped the tears away. 'Alright. Why don't you help me with breakfast? Dudley should be getting up in a bit since he's going camping with his friend.' About to get up and leave, she realized that Harry had yet to move. 'Are you sure you're okay?'

'I'm not feeling well is all.' Harry didn't move and glanced at a lumpy sock that poked out from under his pillow.

Curious, Petunia reached out just as Harry snatched it stuffing it behind his back. 'Harry.' She was rarely severe with the boy, but she didn't like the fact that he was hiding something from her. Slowly, Harry pulled the sock out and passed it to her. She fished inside and pulled out the broken glasses. 'Oh, no! What happened?'

Not looking at her again, Harry muttered, 'It was an accident. I forgot I was wearing them when I went to bed. I-I'm sorry.'

Some weird feeling twitched in Petunia. It was faint, but it made her think of a lioness protecting its cub. She didn't say anything for a few minutes as the feeling welled, but just as suddenly it vanished. Giving a soft smile she ruffled Harry's messy hair. 'Honey, it's okay. Accidents happen. I'm glad you told me so we can go to store today and get them fixed. Why don't you stay in bed until your uncle leaves?' As he nodded, she got up and closed the door behind her, testing the knob again to make sure it was unlocked. She couldn't place why Vernon had to be gone before Harry left the closet, but just as with the strange protective feeling that had filled her earlier, the thought sank deep into her subconscious left to be forgotten.


Late that night, Petunia crawled under the covers while Vernon was studying a magazine under lamplight. She curled up with the pillow under her cheek and watched her husband as he read. He had gained a few pounds since their marriage and his thick blond hair had since receded and grown thinner with a few grey hairs here and there. Recently, he had decided to grow out his mustache, which covered his upper lip like a broom. Realizing she was watching, Vernon put the magazine down. 'What is it?'

'I want to talk to you about Harry,' she replied.

Snapping the magazine shut, rolling it up like a baton, Vernon turned to stare at the end of the bed. 'Oh?'

'He's been acting differently. More so than usual. He's been having nightmares, but he won't tell me about them. He's been waking up in the wee hours in a sweat and screaming. I'm really worried about him. When I talked to a few of the others,' she was of course referring to the Women's Club that she participated in on the weekends, 'they talked about night terrors and how maybe the bullying at school is at fault.' Taking a deep breath, Petunia couldn't help but feel sad that her nephew wouldn't confide in her. He was the only tie she had left to her sister and some part of her wanted that connection. 'I just was curious if you'd noticed anything or if maybe he's talked to you?'

It took her husband a moment to reply. 'I haven't noticed anything. I barely spend time with him with being so busy at work.' He paused a moment. 'Are you sure it's not that?'

Shifting so she could sit up, Petunia stared at her hands, looking at a lattice of scars that went beyond her sleeve and stretched to her upper arm. 'Of course it can't be. I mean, I don't know for certain. I barely remember what it was like when Lily would have her accidentals, but from what I know they don't cause nightmares. I-I think he's remembering what happened to his parents, or his subconscious is making it up. I'm really worried about him. Do you think we should get him counseling?'

There was silence for a while, Petunia tentatively looked up at Vernon. He turned and patted her hand. 'And tell them what? The same spiel we tell the boy? No, I think he'll grow out of it.' His features hardened and his face twisted. 'Just like we'll stamp out that blasted magick.'

Surprised at the vehemence in her husband's voice, Petunia flinched. 'Honey,' she watched as he traced the scars, 'you understand that was an accident right? Even my sister had had similar instances when she was a child. They can't control when it gets away from them and it's not like it's happened again.'

Snorting, Vernon replied, 'You think it's okay because he didn't mean it? You call him screaming and shattering the glass door all over you at two okay because it was just an accident!' His voice had raised, spittle flying from his mouth. 'You're luck to still have your arm! No matter what excuses you make for it, that so called magick is an abomination and we will stamp that bloody stuff out of him. You yourself agreed that you don't want him involved in that world—we don't want a wizard in this family, especially not with what happened to your sister and brother-in-law!'

She didn't say anything for awhile, instead listening to the labored breath of Vernon and her own beating heart. Petunia was flattered at the lengths Vernon would go to protect her and even their son, but something dark tainted him when he spoke of Harry and even her sister. Despite how rocky Lily and Petunia's relationship had been especially with Lily being what she was, Petunia still loved her dearly departed sister. She was grateful that despite all the ugly they had had towards each other in the end, Lily had left her most prized son to her older sister. 'I know. I hate magick, I hate what it did to my sister's and my relationship, and I hate what it led to in regards to Lily and her husband. Please don't think ill of Harry though,' she begged. 'Harry doesn't know and he doesn't know how to control it.'

'I know, love. I know. We'll bloody well keep that magick out of him and of this house.'

Sighing, Petunia couldn't help but think, 'I don't know if we can.'