Chapter 3: The Cupboard

Emerald eyes shot open with the slamming of a door. The Dursleys were out for church. The little boy was in pain. A spider looked at the boy curiously from the far end of the dark space. Young Harry wished hard for his door to open, and it did. He waited until he couldn't hear their car and got up on shaky legs. His bladder was about to burst. It hurt to pee. A five-year-old boy should never have to wait so many hours to go to the loo. The Dursleys forbade Harry to look them in the eye. He could only talk to them if they talk to him first. Harry was an obedient boy. He tried to do all they asked him to as best as he could, but when you are four, and you have to cook on a stove you can't reach and lift things that are bigger than yours, you tend to have accidents.

Harry went in the half bathroom, which was the only one he could use, and peed. He did not poop. Since he ate so little, his bowel movements were scarce. He took off his shirt off and used a rag he had in his back pocket to clean himself as best as he could. He couldn't see his back, but he was sure he had open wounds there. He went to the kitchen and got a spatula; he wrapped the rag that was now wet with a mixture of water and soap. He started rubbing it everywhere he could reach. It burned, and the soap made the injury sting. Harry bit the inside of his cheek to keep from making any noise. The Dursley's didn't like to hear him, so he was practiced in being always quiet. He knew they weren't home, but he was used to the silence.

Harry didn't know his own name. The Dursleys called him Freak. Harry had stopped wondering why after his third birthday. He just thought that Freaks like him didn't deserve a name. Harry looked at his forearms and counted: one, two, three, four, five, seven cigarette burns on the underside of each. Vernon Dursley didn't smoke, but Petunia Dursley did. She had a perverse fascination with seeing Harry in pain. She wasn't as violent as her husband. She was more taunting. After he made any mistake, she would remind him several times a day that she would burn him at night. Harry quickly learn that the dread of what was coming was worse than the actual burn. Harry was used to the kicks, the punches, the mocking, the demeaning names, but he wasn't used to the loneliness.

A couple of streets down, bushy-haired, brown-eyed, now five-year-old Hermione Granger was blowing the candles of her birthday cake with sad tears flowing from her eyes and wishing for a friend. Her parents sighed. Not one kid from her class came to her party, even though they were all invited. Several people said their kids would come, but in the end, they didn't. Her parents, Daniel and Emma Granger couldn't help but feel angry at the other parents. Had they been honest, the Grangers wouldn't have bought so much food and decorations. They had even hired a magician. He still put on the show because he felt bad for the little girl, but it wasn't the same without party goers. Hermione sat out on the porch holding a teddy bear and crying. She thought kindergarten would help her make friends. And yet, she had none. Sitting there, she felt lonely, but she also felt something no one her age should feel. She felt inadequate.

If someone knew a lot about being inadequate, it was Freak. He had managed to make lunch and clean up the entire house by the time the Dursleys came back. But Vernon Dursley wasn't happy. The gravy was too salty. Harry tried to explain he followed the recipe. He was not allowed to taste the food he made. But Vernon wasn't listening. He slapped Harry across the face with such strength that he flew across the dining room and into the kitchen. The boy immediately tasted the familiar metallic flavor of blood in his mouth. Harry could hear Dudley laughing in the background. Mrs. Dursley was pale.

"You have reached the end of my patience, Freak! Get out of here!" Vernon yelled, kicking Harry once on the stomach. Harry started seeing double. He struggled to breathe. This sobered Dudley up. He realized that his father could kill Freak. Dudley wasn't very loving to the child, but they were still family.

"Vernon, there's a snowstorm outside!"

"I don't give a fuck! You can either throw him out or leave with him, Petunia!" Vernon roared shoving her forcefully against the fridge. Dudley whimpered and moved over to help Freak.

"What?! No! I'd never leave Dudley!"

Vernon saw Dudley helping Harry stand up and rage blinded him. "You are not to touch that filth, Dudley! If either you or your mother moves a muscle to help this trash, I will kick you out too!"

Harry took a shaky breath and pushed himself up as fast as he could on shaky bruised arms. He would not cry in front of them. It only made things worse. He went to the cupboard to pick up his bed and the throw. He knew it was cold outside. As he reached the opening of the cupboard, Vernon, who had run after him, slammed it shut.

"You will not take anything I have bought," Vernon roared. He pushed Harry and pulled out a tattered blanket. "You came to us with this blanket. That is all you are taking with you. Strip!"

"Vernon, no!" Petunia Dursley yelled, hitting her husband on the back of his head with a frying pan as hard as she could. Harry stared in shock. "Dudley, run to my purse, now!" The boy did as told still dazed from seeing his mother fight back. Harry did something he hadn't done in a long time. He looked into Petunia's eyes. She was blurry, as was everything else. Harry needed glasses, and Vernon never thought it was important to buy them. Still, Harry could have sworn she was crying.

"I'm sorry, but it's best if you go, Harry," she said, pulling out the bed and the throw. She knew her husband wouldn't be unconscious for long. Freak looked around puzzled. Looking around, the boy thought, who is Harry? She ran to the kitchen and grabbed a large trash bag. She put in the dog bed, the throw, the blanket, and after getting her purse from Dudley, she put in money. "Look, there are three hundred pounds here. Go to the police, a church, or a hospital. Don't tell them anything about us because they will bring you back. Do you understand?"

Freak nodded. She was holding him by the shoulders. While he had no idea what the police, a church, or a hospital were, anything was better than here. Petunia ran to the coat hanger, grabbed Vernon's coat, which was the only one hanging there and wrapped it around Harry.

"Is Harry my name?" he asked, looking into her blurry eyes. She gasped and let out a strangled sob.

"Yes, Harry Potter. Get as far away as you can from here and hide! Now! Go!" she pushed him out of the door. When Vernon woke up, Petunia said he was knocked out by something freakish Harry did. It only cost her two black eyes, a busted lip, and Dudley's first-ever bruised spanking.

As Harry hobbled to the end of the street, he was suddenly appreciative of Vernon's huge coat around him. Without it, he would have already frozen. He realized he was soon going to pass out. His ribs hurt. He didn't know how to find a safe place. It was late at night already, and he couldn't keep walking further. He didn't know any of the neighbors. He wished hard for a friend, anyone who could help him, give him a warm place to stay the night so he could try to heal his injuries. Suddenly, a big black dog approached him. At least, Harry thought it was a dog. Although it was dark and his eyesight was blurry, Harry could sense the dog was angry. It wasn't moving its tail and was growling. But then, Harry knew no more because he collapsed.

The black dog approached the kid and sniffed him. Then, it pulled the boy by the oversized coat into a seemingly empty church across the street. The dog ran back out and pulled the boy's bag into the church as well. This was an incredible feat. The dog was as bony and looked as frail as the boy, but it managed. It had placed the boy by the most secluded space it found: a confessional. The boy was shaking and placed himself in a fetal position inside the booth. The dog wasn't a typical dog. It went to the Altar, jumped to carefully get the candelabra down -as well as the flowers- and pulled Altar cloth to cover the boy. The dog then wrapped its body around the boy and pulled the confessional's curtain close.

Priest Martin Shaw was a good human being. He had become a priest because he wanted to serve. He was young and very attractive. He was 6ft tall, muscular, had short wavy dark brown hair and expressive gray eyes. The priest loved animals and was an advisor for families who had kids that had difficulties of different kinds. He was currently talking to Emma Granger, whose daughter Hermione had fallen asleep after all her crying finally subdued. The priest's heart broke for the Grangers. Hermione was a sweet, smart child. She was always polite and kind to everyone. When her parents told him no one had shown up to her birthday party, the priest felt a pang on his chest. Kids could be very cruel creatures.

As they left his office, which was attached to the church, the priest saw more than heard the curtain to the confessional being pulled closed. The Grangers noticed it as well. Martin motioned for them to stay put. Mrs. Granger put Hermione on a bench, and the little girl began to stir. Sometimes, homeless people would seek refuge in the church, especially when the weather was as horrible as it was today. Mr. Granger motioned to the Altar. Martin saw that the Altar cloth was missing and as he looked at the confessional, he saw a corner of the cloth coming out from under the curtain. Mr. Granger was concerned whoever was behind the curtain could be drunk or high, so he followed the priest slowly. As they approached the confessional, they heard a warning growl. Hermione loved dogs and had a way with them. Before Emma could react, she ran to the confessional and grabbed the curtain without pulling. She knew that dogs didn't like surprise ambushes by strangers. Her father said her name in a warning tone and the dogs growling intensified.

"Hey buddy," Hermione said slowly, motioning for the adults to be quiet. The growling stopped. "My name is Hermione Granger. I am five years old. I love doggies. Please don't bite me. I want to help you. Are you hurt?"

The dog whimpered. Hermione pulled the curtain very slowly and saw a scene that would be forever in her memory. There was a big black dog who looked emaciated and injured, wrapped around a very small and frail-looking boy who was bruised and whose lips were chapped and had dry blood on them. The right side of his face was bruised. One of his eyes was swollen. He had a weird scar on his forehead that was angry red. The dog started whining sadly. Hermione's heart broke for the second time that day. Without hesitation, she took off her glove and reached out with both hands to touch the dog who was shaking and had its tail between its hind legs. Her tiny hand was warm and soft, and the dog closed its eyes and wagged his tail. The adults could barely see the dog. They hadn't seen the battered child. They were in for a shock. Hermione knew that the boy needed help and that her parents and the priest could help him. But she also knew the dog was protecting the boy and wouldn't let go.

"Buddy, you need to let them help both of you…" Hermione begged. The dog wrapped his body more snugly around the boy and looked at her with fear in its eyes. "It's okay. I promise we are not going to keep you apart from him. I don't lie to my friends. Do you want to be my friend?"

The dog wagged its tail and licked Hermione's hands. It loosened its hold on the boy. Hermione looked over her shoulder, "Father Martin, do you have a first aid kit? There is a hurt boy here."

Her parents took strides and were absolutely floored by what they saw. Hermione told them to let the dog smelled their hands. The dog sniffed and gave a shy wag. It licked the boy, but the boy wouldn't move. The dog looked helplessly at the people and stood up to let them maneuver. Hermione had never seen her parents so angry or upset.

"Father Martin, take my keys. I have my medical kit in the car," Daniel said hurriedly.

"We need to warm him up immediately, or we may lose him," Emma pointed out. Hermione's eyes filled with tears. Her parents assessed the boy. Nothing seemed broken. Dan lifted the boy and was dismayed to realize he was almost weightless. He placed the boy in the pull out sofa bed that Father Martin had in his office. Hermione went over to the phone to call in the emergency.

"999 What's your emergency?"

"Hello, we need paramedics, police, and possibly the NSPCC," Hermione replied without missing a beat. [The National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children]

"Is this a joke, child?" the operator replied. Hermione looked at the phone, completely furious.

"Put on the speaker sweetheart," Emma said, feeling her chest swell with pride. Her baby girl did excellently, but she was sure the operator thought it was a joke.

"Done"

"Hello, this is not a prank. I am Dr. Emma Granger. I am here with my husband Dr. Daniel Granger, and we found a battered child in the confessional of our church…"

Hermione stopped hearing her mother. Her father was warming a bag of saline solution with a pot on the small countertop burner that the priest had to boil water for tea. Father Martin wrapped the boy with some of the thick blankets he kept in his office to hand out to those in need. He then went to start the fire in his office. Hermione had a genius idea. She had read that the best heat for hypothermia was body heat. With the innocence only a child can have, Hermione took off her clothes and carefully cut off the clothes that were still on Harry using her mom's scissors from the kit. She wrapped her body around his and started crying silently as she felt all the bones that were poking out. His body was covered in bruises, cuts, and scabs. Hermione didn't look at his back. She feared that it would be worse. As hugged the boy, he moved slightly.

"Mommy," Hermione said quietly. The three adults looked at her, surprised at how quickly she had undressed and gotten under the covers because none of them saw her move. "He's moving."

"Thank God!" her parents approached the bed.

"Why are you in your underwear?" Daniel asked, puzzled. His daughter was always willing to be kind to others, but she had never seen this poor boy before.

"Body heat," Hermione replied, shrugging without letting the boy go. Her father looked conflicted but nodded.

"The authorities are on their way," Emma said to Hermione. "You will have to let go when they get here. It will probably take a while because of the snowstorm."

The dog wrapped his body around the boy's feet to help warm them. Dan started the warm IV fluid while Emma prepared tea. It took a while for Dan to find a vein. After a while, the boy began to stir. Emma had her hand on his forehead.

"Hey, sweetie," Emma said slowly, trying not to scare the boy. The boy had the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen. She only saw them for half a second because he averted his eyes. "What is your name?"

He didn't reply. Hermione motioned for her mother to sign to the boy. Hermione had a deaf cousin who used sign language. Emma signed, and the boy didn't look up. She noticed he froze and his eyes went wide when he realized someone was holding him. Dan's cellphone rang. The boy looked at the man, startled. Well, he can hear, Emma thought. Hermione loosened her hold on the boy, and he turned slowly. He had never been held before, and he felt like it was the most wonderful feeling ever.

"Hi, friend," Hermione said, hesitating at the word friend. But her train of thought froze. The most beautiful eyes were looking into hers.

"F-friend?" the boy asked, his eyes filling with tears. No one had ever been so kind to him.

"Only if you want to," Hermione said, fearing rejection.

"Y-yes, p-please," he replied. He knew he shouldn't look at people's eyes, but hers were like a magnet.

"My name is Hermione Granger," she said, pronouncing it slowly.

"M-my n-name is F-Freak," Harry replied, breaking eye contact.

You could have heard a pin drop. All the adults were in complete shock.

"Freak is not a name," said a now furious Hermione. "Are you sure that is your name?"

"Y-yes… N-No. S-She said m-my real n-name is H-Harry P-Potter, j-just b-before I-I had t-to leave," he stuttered. Dan was shocked that the child had not complained or tried to remove the IV. Emma thought it was safe for her to talk now.

"Harry, who said that?" she asked, in the sweetest tone she could muster. Harry turned to her but didn't look up.

"I c-can't say," Harry replied. Hermione quickly hugged him tighter. Harry noticed the black dog, and now that he was safer, he felt like there was something familiar about it. The dog went up to Harry's face and licked him. Harry's eyes widened as he smelled the dog.

"P-Pa-foo?" Harry asked with wide eyes. He had recurrent dreams about a black fog named Padfoot.

The adults were mesmerized seeing the dog seemingly nodding at the boy. Hermione seemed confused.

"Police and paramedics, open up!" an officer yelled from outside the office's door.

Father Martin rushed to the door. Emma motioned to Hermione to get dressed. She unwillingly let go of Harry and dressed quicker than her parents had ever seen. Harry started shaking when he saw the police come in. Those people looked scary, and they had sticks they could use to beat him with just like him.

"Hermione, please step outside," her father requested pointing to the door.

"No!" she responded vehemently as Harry's breath started hitching. She got back under the covers with Harry. "He needs me."

Dan looked at his wife with wide eyes. Hermione had never defied them like that. Emma motioned at him to leave it alone. They would talk to her about it later. Emma let her husband do most of the talking. The dog was growling softly. Hermione touched Pa-foo's head and told him to be quiet. The dog got quiet. Once the police were done asking questions to the adults, the paramedics requested Harry to stand up. He was shaking like a leaf. Hermione tried to calm him down.

"Harry, we're here with you. They won't hurt you. They want to help you. I will be here the whole time… so will Pa-foo. My mum and dad are kid doctors and that man there is a priest…" Hermione said, squeezing his hands.

"W-What is a d-doctor? W-What is a p-p-priest?" Harry whispered.

All the adults were floored. That meant he had never been seen by a doctor or a priest. They didn't trust themselves to come up with a way to explain that wouldn't scare the boy.

Hermione did find a way to explain it."Harry, a doctor is a grown-up who makes the pain of the body go away. A priest is a grown-up who makes the pain of the heart, and the soul go away," she explained, rubbing Harry's back in soothing circles like her mom did to her when she was scared. Her parents looked in awe at her clever, child-friendly explanation.

"We're in a church, sweetheart. You are safe here," Emma said in her most soothing voice.

But Harry took some comfort in the fact that it was a church. Mrs. Dursley said he would be safe there. But could he believe any grown-up? Probably not, but he thought he could believe Hermione. He sat up, and Hermione pulled him up to help him stand. She did so slowly, avoiding the IV. The thick blankets fell. The priest had to hold on to a bookcase not to fall on his knees. He held his rosary beads tightly. The police officers gasped. The paramedics stopped moving. The doctors stared in shock. As pediatricians, they had unfortunately seen abused kids, but this boy was the worst case they had ever seen.

Harry stood shaking under the scrutiny of the adults. Hermione had let go of his hands. She was so shocked and so angry that she was also shaking. A couple of glass decorations in the office exploded. This would be one of Hermione's most clear bouts of accidental magic so far. Harry's back was covered in ugly scars, cuts, and bruises. There was dry blood in different parts of his body. His ribs were very noticeable. He was severely underweight. His bones tented his skin. One of his shoulders was higher than the other. When he turned to face them, he never looked up. His face had swelled up. He was also covered in a rainbow of bruises which based by the coloring were not all recent. Harry had reached out to Hermione, who held his hand in both of hers. As the paramedics started checking him and filled forms, the Grangers were communicating to each other silently. That child would never go back to the beasts who had caused this.

"Where does it hurt, Harry?" one paramedic asked. The boy shook his head. "Does it hurt if you move?"

"Harry, tell him!" Hermione whispered encouragingly.

"It h-hurts to b-breathe," Harry said, putting his hand on his ribs.

"We need to x-ray him," said Daniel. "We should scan him head to toes."

"Of course, but the dog can't come in the ambulance doctors," another paramedic replied. The dog cocked his head and barked at the paramedic in annoyance.

"Daniel, stay with Hermione and Pa-Foo. I will go with them. Father, can you come with us?" Emma said in a commanding tone. Daniel looked at her determination and nodded.

"M-Mione? Pa-foo?" Harry said, without looking up. "P-Please d-don't l-leave m-me... I'm scared"

Hermione hugged him, and the dog whimpered. "Can I please go with you, mom? Harry needs me."

Emma nodded uncertainly. Father Martin intervened: "Emma, I can take Pa-foo to your home or keep him here." The dog looked back and forth at the adults. He wagged at the priest for calling him a him, not an it. Daniel seemed conflicted, but he decided that the priority was Harry's health. Martin had fished out some clothes from a donation box to dress Harry. Emma helped him dress carefully, avoiding his bruises. Harry was teary-eyed again. No one had ever helped him like that.

"Father, here are my keys. Take him to our home," Daniel said. The dog cried a bit.

"Pa-foo, we will bring Harry back, I promise. Friends never break promises," she said, offering her hand. The dog gave a happy bark and licked her once after carefully placing his paw on her hand. The officers thought the dog was very well trained, albeit as neglected as the child. Harry bent slowly to hug Pa-foo, who wagged his tail happily.

The Grangers left with Harry, and Father Martin, true to his word, drove Pa-foo to their home. The priest looked for some leftovers he could feed the dog. He put some shredded beef with stock and a bit of boiled rice on a disposable bowl. He warmed it up in the microwave and put it down. The dog licked the priest's hand. Martin filled another disposable bowl with water. Father Martin was really close to the Grangers and had been in their home before. He went to the garage and found Hermione's first crib mattress. He cleaned it with a vacuum and covered it with a blanket. He went back and saw the dog staring at the fireplace. Martin could have sworn the dog was asking him to start a fire, so he did. The priest placed the bed close enough to the fire and placed the protective screen. The dog jumped up and down and licked him again.

"Pa-foo, I'm going to leave you here. Okay? Please don't make a mess," Martin said, ruffling the dog's fur. The priest noticed the old wounds on the dog. "I'll try to take you to the vet tomorrow."

The dog looked scared. Martin laughed. Pa-foo got in the bed that the priest created. The priest grabbed a throw from the Granger's sofa and tucked the dog in. Pa-foo sighed, and Martin quietly left with a smile.