Deadweight

Disclaimer: Don't own anything.

Summary:
Neville was chosen and is now the Boy Who Lived. Harry's parents were never killed, but Harry is kidnapped and forced into a very difficult life. Loosely based on the film "Gardens of the Night".

M-Mature.

"'Don't you want to join us?' I was recently asked by an acquaintance when he ran across me alone after midnight in a coffeehouse that was already almost deserted.
'No, I don't,' I said." -
FranzKafka

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This is when things got pretty bad for me.

I felt horrible. I was guilty and grieving and… so fucking lonely.

I stopped hoping my family was alive. Claribel had been a dreamer, after all. She always had been. Always looking at the sky and thinking about some life we'd have some day. It was all her stupid idea anyway. There was no use in me getting worked up for something impossible like that. Besides, even if they were alive, they wouldn't want me anymore anyway. Not all fucked up like I was.

I stopped doing anything for a while; I was just wandering around London. I screwed up plenty of opportunities too.

"Hey kid. How's it going?" It was late out that night. This guy? Real tosser, mid twenties, mullet. I'd been walking the strip, smoking a fag, feeling like hell, and then this guy pulls up in some muscle car, "Alright," I said as I took a long drag.

"So," his eyes moved down my body, then back to my face, "How much?"

I didn't tell you before, but I guess I should now; I was also doped up bad while I was talking to this guy. Once Claribel was gone I started doing every drug I could get my grimy hands on. Lots of smack and blow, junk, E, angel dust, I tried to avoid crack and meth, but I wasn't really willing to pass up a high. Oh, some pills too; Oxy, Xanax, Ritalin, Vicodin. Like I said, anything I could get my hands on.

I was smoking more than I was eating and drinking every chance I could.

Well, anyway, there's this chav talking me up and I can barely stand up straight, so I say to him, "Lots. More'n you could eva pay. Too much fa you." I was giggling at him in a drunken sort of way and taking drags between laughs.

Needless to say, he was pissed, "Yeah? Fuck you kid. Have fun in fucking gutter, you slag!"

He started driving off, but I called back to him, "Hey! C'mon! Can't you take a bloody joke?" He kept driving, "Fuck you! Bastard! God DAMN it!" I kicked a nearby bench as I started looking for a place to sleep.

So, basically I'd quit the magic tricks and gone right back to whoring. I made some quick cash, dealing weed to local kids at some mall, and bought new clothes; tight jeans and tight t shirts with v- necks. I knew it was an investment, but it definitely paid off. I got more whoring gigs than I'd ever had, really.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I'd been walking around, looking to get picked up, when I ran into Benny. He was an alright kid, a bit dim, tall and lanky. Benny made his money the same way I did, the only people my age I knew were other whores.

Benny waltzed on over to me and starting talking, "Hey, Harry." His voice deeper than the last time I heard it, "How you doing?" He was looking me up and down, his voice had a sort of concerned tenor to it. I knew I look like shit. My hair was a disaster on top my head, my eyes were bloodshot. Also, I was thinner than I'd ever been.

I smiled at him, I knew he might be a bit worried, but nobody out here got too worked up over anybody but themselves, "I'm fantastic."

Benny smiled back, easing up, "So, where's Claribel? 'Aven't seen her around for a while, she alright?"

I was startled, to say the least, my cigarette slipped down my fingers, almost falling, "Haven't you heard?"

He seemed confused. Usually, I'd suspect somebody saying that to be fucking with me. Benny wasn't cruel that way though, he just seemed to genuinely not understand, "What you mean? She is alright, isn't she?"

I ran my tongue over my teeth, eyes on my shoes, "Benny. She's dead." It was the first time I'd said it outloud. I know it's silly, but I felt like my heart broke a little then.

On his part, Benny looked shocked. We talked about it a while, Benny probing for details that I didn't want to give. He gave up after a bit and we each headed on our separate ways.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

There was this boy I knew, around my age, maybe a bit older, who hung around this coffee shop that I used to do my street tricks in front of. Nate, he was a prick, and he was just as pretentious as his name sounded. Nate was always wearing expensive looking trousers and J. Crew sweaters, his hair styled with a neat part to the left, face totally spotless.

Me and him, we never got along. He'd bait me and give me shit and push me around. I wasn't the kind to let anybody get away with that.

I was walking past that coffeehouse, on my way to meet some dealer, so of course he had to be in my way.

"Hey, Harry."

I rolled my eyes and tried to brush past him.

"Well, you look simply horrid." He raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow at me.

"Fuck. Off. Nate." This time I managed to get by and started making my way down the street.

"I really miss your little magic tricks on the corner here." He walked with me for a bit, so I pushed him lightly, hoping he'd get the hint.

It seemed like he had, since he stopped walking and let me continue. I sighed, all relieved. One person I didn't want to deal with (ever again) was Nate.

He wouldn't let it go though. So he called after me, "I heard what happened to your little girlfriend. It's such a relief to me when garbage like that gets what's coming to them."

That did it. Like I said, I'm not the kind to let people get away with it.

I turned on my heels and walked back to Nate, fuming. "What was that, Nate?"

He smirked, "You heard me. That slut got exactly what she deserved."

I glared, "Funny for you to talk. Think you're better than all of us? With your pressed kaki's and prim button downs? You're not. For all your money and hair products, you're still no good slime."

Nate huffed, "Why, I-"

I cut him off, "I'll have you know Claribel was twice the person you are. Hell, she was ten times the man you could ever hope to be."

Nate was nearly growling in rage, "Don't you dare compare me to those dirty whores you hang around."

I was smirking now, "I'm just as much a whore as any of them."

He shoved me, "Obviously."

I shoved back.

He raised his fist to punch, but I lunged at him first, knocking him to the ground. The people around us were making room, wanting to stay out of it.

When we made contact with the cement something flew from Nate's trouser pocket, I glanced at it, then did a double take. It was a long pointed stick. I cocked my head quizzically before realization hit me like a blow to the stomach. Well, that and Nate hit me in the stomach.

I staggered up, eyes wide, staring at what I realized was a wand.

Nate looked at my face, then followed my gaze to the wand. His wand.

He inhaled sharply, dashing to pick it up and pocket it.

I looked at him, awed, "Is that-? You're a-?"

He glared at me, clenching his teeth, and walked quickly away, banging his shoulder against mine aggressively.

I didn't see Nate again for a long time after that.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I was coming on 15 and was thinking a good gift for myself would be to get off all the drugs, 'cept the cigs, of course.

By the time my birthday rolled around I'd managed it mostly. It was hell though. Luckily I hadn't really been addicted to anything but the heroin. I'll tell you detox had been a real experience, and leave it at that. I'd managed to convince this girl I knew, Marylou, to let me stay in this tiny house she rented with a few other people for 'bout week to get off the smack. I'd had to bargain with her and her roommates pretty ridiculously before they agreed. I'd given more than a few blow jobs before they were convinced.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

So, after that I was feeling better than I had in a while. I spent money I would have spent on smack on a sandwich, I was craving a hit more than anything, but I figured I'd get over it.

I'd been having a normal day, besides the whole sandwich thing, and was been heading to meet these high school kids and sell them some coke. I was in a part of London I'd never been before, Grimmauld something or another. The kids had given me an address and I was looking for number seven when I noticed the sun was starting to head east and figured I'd have to spend the night on a bench or in a park around wherever I was.

I looked down at the paper again, scratching my head, thinking I'd gone a bit too far. When I looked back up there seemed to be eight or nine people standing in front of, what was that? Number eleven? They looked like they were waiting for something. One of them spotted me staring and starting speaking to the others. They all looked over then and starting acting casually.

I shook my head. This was definitely not my scene. I wasn't looking to get in trouble with a bunch of freaks like them.

I was about to turn and give this whole operation a big 'Fuck you!' when one of them, a middle aged redhead with a bit of a belly, seemed to take pity on me and started walking over.

This guy didn't look like he was even capable of having less than perfect intentions, but I'd learned looks could be deceiving. I was contemplating just turning around and running, but if all these adults decided to come after me I wouldn't stand half a chance.

So this ginger haired bloke reached me and said, "Need help, son? You lost?" He seemed weary. I used to adults being suspicious of me by now, so it didn't really bother me much.

I looked up at the man, and, oddly, he started. He looked intently at my eyes, took in my hair, then glanced over my body. I smiled at him, a customer?

"I was looking for number seven."

My voice pulled him out of his stupor. He stuttered a bit on his words, "Y- Uh. That's a bit down the way you came." His face was still openly shocked as he spoke, "What- What's your name, boy?"

This was weird. I could see all the members of his little cult looking at us from over the man's shoulder, "Well, what's yours?"

"Oh." He seemed surprised by the question, "Arthur. Arthur Weasley."

Weasley. That was familiar. I let it go after a minute's thought.

I was smiling again, all coy now, "Do you go by Art, ?" I help but flirt with the flustered man.

Art's mouth fell open and he pulled his eyebrows together, looking sorta nervous and even more suprised, "N-no."

"Ah," I pouted here, "Pity. I've always been fond of that name."

This guy, Arthur, he kinda does a double take here, looking me over again, like he's trying to figure something out. His eyes are all wide and I'm starting to think he didn't realize what I was at first, which makes for some pretty awkward conversation, so I try to leave. 'Cause like I said before, not my scene.

I turn saying, "Well, I better be off." And this Arthur grabs my wrist, turning me back to him. This I didn't like one bit, I yanked my arm away, "Don't touch me."

He still seemed frazzled, "It's just- What's your name, kid?"

What was wrong with this guy? I was starting to think I was gonna end up a human sacrifice with him and his creeps looming around.

"Harry." I sounded just as annoyed as I was.

Arthur got even more surprised now, eyes bulging, looking like he was gonna hyperventilate. I shook my head, about to take off, and Arthur reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wand. Yeah, a wand. I freeze up and gasp, looking from the wand to his face. Weasley! Of course!

"Stupefy!"

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Sorry to leave you hanging there, next update is not far behind!