Chapter 1/2.
It was during their first year at school, at muggle school that is, when Harry was small and fragile; it was when his ink black hair was too long, too shabby and when his second hand clothes were ill-fitted and a bit too dirty. It was when he never got anything he needed while Dudley - momma's lovely boy had been a little too big and a little too round and was gifted everything he wanted without asking nicely.
After the first few months of that school year, when the autumn was leaving and the winter was coming up and the first snowflakes started to cover the streets, a girl in their shared class was celebrating her birthday.
She was sweet and not only in character, also in looks. Blonde hair in pigtails, the curls bouncing happily whenever she skipped around and huge shiny blue eyes that pulled of the 'kicked puppy look' in perfection. Every single time she pulled them out of the closet, she got what she wanted as she did too this time around. The perfected look on her face, a tremble of her lip and it had her mom buying tons of candy for her to share with the class.
And so, Harry treasured a handful of those candies in the pocket of his smudgy, with a broken zipper, red summer jacket he wore year round. Unlike Dudley who made his handful disappear in mere seconds, Harry saved them for break.
During lunch break, Harry hid behind the garbage cans at the corner of the schoolyard and fished the candies up, laying them out on a row and stared at them; trying to pick which one to eat first when three figures loomed over him, casting him in their shadows.
"There mine." Harry whispered tentatively, scooting back. He tried to gather the sweets without breaking eye contact with the three boys, lest he saw any mean move coming.
"Give it," Dudley shouted. "Mommy says freaks don't get candy!"
The taller boy stomped on his nephew's hand and bend down to grab the candy when he was suddenly pulled backwards by the hoodie of his sweater.
Another boy, a year or two older then Dudley and Harry, stood there, head held high as he kept Dudley from escaping his grasp.
From a distance it may look comical, one little boy cowing, grasping over, trying to get to his candies. Two boys pulling one boys hands seeing to set him free from one kid, who keeps a tight grip on a piece of cloth.
And that; That is how Harry met his guardian angel.
Throughout the years, the older boy kept showing up unexpectedly and always on the dot, right then and there whenever Harry needed him.
He was there when Dudley tried to steal his food or homework or when he and his cronies hunted after Harry to beat him. He was there when his family didn't treat him right, to offer him food, help with his chores and to address his injuries. He was there when everyone, including teachers let him down and Harry felt safe, protected and happy.
Petunia Dursley had noticed and warned her nephew to stay away from the boy. "We aren't the best," She acknowledged and subsequently promised to do the boy better. "But I mean it. Stay away. That boy is dangerous!"
Harry heard her, nodded as she said it but didn't comply. He heard it before around the neighbourhood. They called him many names but he was dubbed as Belial – meaning the wicked or worthless.
Belial was nothing special; he's skinny with building muscle and having light brown hair, brown eyes and an sun kissed skin from the amount of times he spend outside. He came from the orphanage nearby and thus labelled a juvenile delinquent by default. He was a vandal, a fighter, a thief. He was scorned by the elderly and feared by the youngest. He did everything that was considered bad and brutal, yet, he showed to be smart and loud but silent. He never disrupted class and maintained high grades and the local library was his sacred ground.
Harry never knew his real name. He had asked but was never given an answer, and so, he referred to him as Angel because Belial just didn't seem right. He adored his angel and he wept when his angel told him he was going away.
"But why, why can't you stay?" Harry asked desperately through his tears.
"Because I'm going to a school far, far away but you'll be fine," He patted the then eight year old Harry on his unruly hair. "You're a good kid and you're strong and I promise that there will be a time that we meet again."
"Really?"
"Yes," Belial answered confidently. "We will, little Harry, because, you know. You and I, we are.. We are the same kind of different."
Belial abruptly turned and walked away after that, leaving Harry on his knees in the front garden of Privet drive 4, not looking back as he heard the wails of the broken hearted boy and disappeared out of sight.