Gardening is not something Harry's good at.

His aunt really could've asked anything of him, like maybe sewing, or accounting, but out of every skill he innately knew, gardening was not one of them.

Even with his protests, his aunt had kicked him out, telling him to only come back in when he managed to dig up the ugly rock right in the middle of the flower bed.

And being a nice and obedient (within reason) child, Harry was then obliged to do as she said.

This was why Harry found himself outside using a tiny trowel to dig up a rock, while it's sweltering, and not inside the house trying to enjoy himself, maybe even stealing some ice cream from Dudley.

But no, he was outside, repeating the same tedious action of trowel in, and trowel out, while trying desperately to entertain himself.

My aunt's okay, He thought to himself.

He remembered back when he was really small, his family seemed to hate him and call him a freak. But then, as he grew, and dedicated himself to being as normal and upstanding as he could possibly be, his family grew less cold and let him out more to make some friends. They still called him a freak and held some amount of hate towards him, but the rest of the neighborhood and the people at his school liked him, and that was gratifying enough for. Things could definitely be worse, because before he managed to get his family to loosen up, he had to sleep in a cupboard under the stairs.

A bloody cupboard! Thank the manager of life that he has his own bedroom now.

But even then, from time to time, strange things happened to him, not that he'd ever admit it, of course. Everything that happens has an accordingly logical reason attached to them. The reason he was so good with money and sewing was because of innate talent, as there isn't really any other explanation, isn't there?

(That is an absolutely valid way of reasoning, everyone else be damned!)

Suddenly, Harry was stirred from his narration of his life to the sound of something shifting. The huge rock finally shifted a bit before rolling onto its side. With a huge sigh, Harry finally collapsed into the dirt and let out a whoop of satisfaction. Using all his strength, he rolled the rock over and over again until it's been rolled into a prettier position at the edge of the garden, instead of smack dab in the middle.

Just as he was about to leave though, he heard something. A soft moan.

And it was frighteningly close.

"Who's there?" he called out in a panic. But then, as he looked below himself, he could clearly see a pair of lips, smudged with so much dirt and grime he wouldn't have been able to see it unless he was looking. For a full minute, Harry just stared the the lips, not knowing what to do, where to do, or how to do.

The lips moaned again.

He should have ran.

He should have ran into the house, maybe told someone, screamed bloody murder, any normal action for someone who's just discovered an apparently living human being buried for who knows how long in his family garden.

But instead of doing any of those things, he used his trowel, and uncovered the rest of the thing.

There was a severed head, buried in his garden, with no other body parts, and above all. it was alive and capable of moaning.

Feeling a sick curiosity, he carefully picked the thing up and looked at it. It wasn't decomposed at all, and fairly pale, but dirty skin. It's hair was messy and short, and through the dirt and grime, Harry could tell that it used to be silver. The head was creepily familiar, although he was sure he'd never seen anyone like the head before in his life.

(Still, he couldn't shake that feeling that he'd seen this person before. The face brings a strange sense of foreign irritation that didn't feel like himself.)

Maybe someone committed a murder last night in our garden, and none of us noticed! Maybe that groaning I heard was just the wind! Harry told himself. He knew that there was absolutely no wind today, but at the moment, he didn't care. Or maybe this is all just a very bad dream! Yes! This is a dream isn't it? An awfully weird one! I'll wake up right now in my comfy bed and laugh at this dream in just a moment! Let me just make the hole deeper and bury him-

The head blinked its eyes open and wearily sent Harry a look.

Harry closed his eyes, looked away, and slapped himself in the face.

Nothing happened.

Harry tried again.

The head squinted it's eyes at Harry.

"Who the fuck are you?" it said.

820 words. On the short side. Kind of want to average 1-1.5k in the future.

I have not prewritten anything, so chapters might take a long time. I also have bad editing skills so there may be typos. Thank you for your patience.