Shift

Four—Quiet


(December 1, 1987, late evening)

Harry switched the flashlight on and off again, occasionally making finger puppets dance around or chase each other on the wall. He sat on a beaten and old mattress that looked as though it had seen better days, and Devlin lay sprawled beside him, head resting on The Hobbit, which Harry had finished a long time ago – he was almost finished the Lord of the Rings trilogy. The dog was looking on boredly as Harry played with the light. They were in an old, rundown building that had once been a rather small library. Shelves still stood row by row, eerily devoid of books or anything else with the exception of Harry's few belongings. The room was wide and dark, and the flashlight threw shadows across the walls and made strange shapes dance over the bare floors. Harry and Devlin had set up their home near a rather large window from which most of the light in the room usually came. On this particular evening, however, it was cloudy and dark outside. Rain plummeted from the clouds, hitting the cement pavement outside with such force that Harry had opted to stay inside in the hopes that it would eventually let up. No such luck, though. The rain stopped them from going out again to get something to eat, and they were nearly out of food.

Harry sighed and put the flashlight aside. "I'm bored." he said aloud. Devlin nuzzled Harry's hand in an attempt to get the boy to scratch his head. The child automatically did so, and Devlin's tail wagged furiously. "We may as well rest though, I suppose," he told Dev, "so we'll be awake earlier tomorrow to get some food." He lay back on the mattress, and Devlin pulled a shabby, threadbare blanket onto his friend. "Thanks," Harry murmured as Devlin curled up behind him to make a giant, furry pillow.

The dog was asleep and snoring in what seemed like an instant. Wow, Harry mused enviously. He always falls asleep so fast…

The raven-haired child reached a hand up to stroke Devlin's thick fur. It had been a day like this. It had been cold and wet and dark, the day he'd met Devlin.

Devlin had practically saved his life. The streets hadn't been treating him too well before. Harry had quickly been introduced to the unappealing side of street life: hunger, thirst, sickness, always running away, and, worst of all (in Harry's opinion), gangs. There weren't many gangs where Harry was, but there were enough to make him afraid whenever he was alone, enough to make him look over his shoulder and jump at the slightest sound. He was lucky that he was quick on his feet, for he had been cornered only once and had been fortunate enough to escape from the encounter with just a few scratches. After that, though, he was terrified of them. All of those people staring at him, leering, grinning. Leaning forwards with a knife in hand, laughing when he flinched away or whimpered.

He had been alone, and afraid, and he hated himself for it. He hated being afraid, but it seemed to Harry that he always would be afraid of something, that he would never be safe. Uncle Vernon terrified him, and so did the streets. There was nowhere else to turn.

And then he met Devlin. While the dog hadn't miraculously made everything perfect, Harry could see that things were looking up. Devlin was fiercely loyal to Harry; the dog protected him from gangs, shopkeepers, and anything else. It seemed that the dog had unofficially adopted the boy, something for which Harry was grateful. And on top of that Devlin had become Harry's very best friend. His only friend.

Harry smiled happily, little fingers still playing with Dev's dark fur. He was hardly ever lonely anymore, thanks to his dog. It was like having a loyal and trustworthy friend, a confidant who would never tell a soul what his boy said, and a brave protector all rolled into one.

Of course, saying that Devlin was the solution to all of his problems was a bit untruthful. There was always one thing that Harry had wanted his whole life, one thing Harry longed for with all his heart: a family. Devlin seemed to know, at times, that he wasn't providing everything Harry needed, and he would curl up across Harry's lap (for the dog was so large that he could hardly fit in his little charge's lap) and lick Harry's hand.

But a family was one thing Harry knew he'd never have. Most of the time he was quite alright without one, but other times the sight of other families would make him feel small and sad and unwanted. After all, it wasn't as though the Dursley's had wanted him, so why would anyone else?

The flashlight flickered and died beside him; Harry jumped and then calmed himself, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He continued to stroke Devlin's fur, thinking to himself, and he didn't fall asleep until late into the night.


A/N: Yes, I know, it's another short chapter—don't kill the author, please! I'll have another up in the next few days, I swear!

Reviews would make me go faster!

moonfyre