Runaway.

Summary:

Disclaimer - JKR's sandbox, not mine. I'm having fun rampaging around in her world. I'm very grateful that anyone would spend their time reading my stories.

Book compliance: Alternate universe, no ships, pre Hogwarts. The story begins on Harrys' eight birthday when he runs away from his relatives.

Please note – This story is intended for adult readers who understand that bad things can happen to good people. Contains descriptions of child abuse, some strong language and adult themes.

Wizarding etiquette – My stories are written strictly on a hobby basis. I make no claim that these chapters are error free. If you enjoy my little stories and are willing to accept the quality level, please read on and leave a review every few chapters. I don't want to hear that you don't like the way that I write my stories. If you don't care for the content or style, just walk away.

Chapter 1

Away

He woke at the sound of the hall clock chiming.

It was late.

It was dark.

Darkness was good he thought.

He was safer in the dark.

Darkness was his friend.

Darkness protected him from his Aunt and Uncle.

When they slept they did not hit him.

He was becoming a creature of the dark now, unless made to come out of his cupboard to do chores, or go to school, he only came out when all were sleeping.

He could feel the darkness pressed all around him giving him respite from his family.

He huddled in his space; cramped, smelly, dusty, a cobweb or three.

The clock had just chimed once. "One a.m. Saturday morning;" thought the boy. Some birthday this was. I turned eight today and they did nothing to acknowledge the occasion; AGAIN. He hated his Aunt and Uncle and fat cousin. Everything was quiet now. His stomach grumbled. He was hungry and thirsty too. He counted on his hands. It was about 18 hours since he had eaten or had anything to drink. The night before last, at supper, he had sneaked some scraps when he cleared the table and put the trash in the bins, and this morning snuck a piece of bacon and a slice of toast with butter before his family was awake. It was also 18 hours since his aunt had locked him in the cupboard.

He had been cooking breakfast. He could feel that today would not be a good day. He felt the anger boiling off of his uncle in waves when he sat down. The boy was nervous and on edge. He burned a piece of toast a little browner than his uncle preferred. Then when Uncle started to yell he burned the scrambled eggs. Then everything blew up and went from bad to worse when his cousin threw his toast at him and yelled at him like his father. He had turned and yelled back at him. That's when his Aunt grabbed him by the shirt collar and his ear and dragged him down the hall. She slapped him hard across the face and shoved him in the cupboard. "I told you not to be cheeky and disrespectful you little Freak!"

Then a short time later his Uncle came and dragged him back to the kitchen and stood over him with his cane while he cleaned the table, stove, dishes and then washed the floor. He then dragged him back down the hall and shoved him violently into the cupboard under the stairs hitting his face against the exposed framing of the inside wall. Then he leaned in to grab him around the neck but pulled away as if burned. "Stay in there you little bastard freak and DON'T MAKE A SOUND."

I can't stand it in here any longer thought the little boy. It smells. I smell since I need a bath, the cupboard smells because the pee bucket smells. It should be safe to sneak out. He could hear his cousin wheezing and his uncle snoring. It was a least three hours since he heard any one moving about.

He had made up his mind. He would take no more abuse from his so called family. He was leaving now while he could. He rationalized it as not leaving home, because this was no home and no family. He had a job. This was his place of employment. His job was to cook and clean and wait on his relations and be available to be beaten. His pay was a place to sleep, not even a bed to sleep, but a cupboard under the stairs with a thin pallet to lie on. He would not allow them to hit him again. He had been planning this for weeks. He kneeled in front of the door and placed his hand over the spot the latch was on the other side of the door. He closed his eyes and concentrated on visualizing the latch moving to the right to open position. He was rewarded a moment later with a soft click. He sat back panting. He did not know how he did the strange things he did but sometimes when he did those things he was exhausted. He caught his breath and then pushed the door open and crawled out.

Standing up he silently walked into the kitchen and picked up his cousins school backpack from under the counter where it stayed all weekend. It was like new, blue, with red trim, with no holes and broken zippers like his hand me down. He took out all the books save one new and unused note book, a transit map and the pens and pencils and put his cousin's stuff in the trash bin carefully covering it with rubbish. He will never miss the books, because he never looked inside the pack, using the front pocket for his lunch. He carried his books back and forth to placate his mother. He kept the student transit pass which was attached with a string. He placed his too big jacket beside the pack.

He went into the laundry room and took his one change of clothes he had, even though they were too big, hand me downs from his cousin and placed it on the table. He striped and used the laundry soap and a cloth to wash himself quietly and quickly as he did not want to be heard. Toweling off he threw his dirty clothes, the towel and cloth into the hamper. Then taking his one set of clean clothes he dressed.

Then he went into the pantry and kitchen and made seven sandwiches and wrapped them in wax paper and then into a paper sack, and put them along with seven apples into the back pack. On second thought he took the rest of the loaf of bread and threw in the jelly and peanut butter jars with a knife to spread them. He also took a big piece of cheddar cheese and the last sleeve of crackers. He placed two pints of bottled water in the outside netted sleeves and another two inside. He made a plate of cold sliced roast beef with tomato slices and pickles and piled them on the last large onion roll to eat before he left and placed it on the table. He drank the last of the milk in the pint bottle in one long satisfying guzzle and put it back in the fridge with the lid off the way his cousin often did. He used the dish towel to wipe his chin. He pulled the chair next to the cabinet over the stove, climbed up and reached in behind the cook books and took the candy bars that his Aunt hid there from his cousin. She doled them out one at a time. He replaced them with wrappers that his cousin had torn open that he had saved when he had to clean up after him. He smiled and his mouth watered as he looked at the four Cadbury dark chocolate bars. He put them in the outside pocket of the backpack. Perhaps, and it was his hope, that his cousin would get the blame, oinker that he was.

He next went into the living room, the room with the fireplace, telly and bookcase and sofa with matching chair. The room he was not allowed to go into ever. Or even look at, for that matter. It always resulted in a caning or a slap across the face if he ventured near it. It was for company they said, not freaks. Moving to the book case he sought out the big bible. Taking it down he opened it to the middle where there was a rectangle cut out. Nestled inside were pound notes in different denominations in packages. He took all the notes except two from each package totaling four thousand five hundred and fifty seven pounds in all, placing in each package between real bank notes, play money he had taken from the trash bins when his cousin had thrown it out. He placed a piece of paper that his cousin had written "Har har, got you - Duds" inside the top pack and then placed the book back. He had been saving that piece of paper ever since his cousin and his friends had cornered him on the way home from school and pushed him in a puddle and emptied his back pack on the ground and stood laughing at him. Then that night his cousin had pushed the paper inside the crack of the door to his cupboard under the stairs. He had known about the bible and money because he heard his uncle yelling at his cousin about it. Uncle had caught his cousin once before with his hand in the book. He hoped that he would pin the blame on his cousin when found it missing. He thought maybe he'd have the last "Har Har" when his Uncle found the money missing and Dud's note.

He looked in his cupboard and reached up and took the small plush toy black dog he had found one day with his name on it. It was the only toy he had, his only gift of substance he ever received, and he was sure to keep it hidden from his so called family. He did not know who left it for him. But he did remember how he received it. It was two days after Christmas when he was four. It was late afternoon, already dark and he struggled to haul the trash bins out to the curb for the morning pickup. The big black dog that hung around the neighborhood came slowly out of the hedges on the edge of the property. He had a wrapped package in his mouth. He walked up to the boy and dropped it at his feet, wagged his tail and waited looking at him. The boy picked up the package and looked at the dog:

"Is this for me"?

The dog woofed and wagged his tail and then turned and walked away when the boy picked it up. He took it back in the house and went directly to his cupboard as he was warned to do without being seen and closed the door. He hid the package under his thin pillow and lay down to wait until everyone was asleep. When he thought it was safe he opened the package, carefully saving the name tag and was amazed to see a little stuffed plush black dog like the one who had dropped it off at his feet. When he was older he could read the name on the package. It did say his name but there was no "From" only his first name. He looked at it and smiled. Somehow it made him feel safe. He did not understand it but he felt a connection to the dog. He was always afraid his family would see the dog and so he hugged it and wished it invisible. He realized a few days later only he could see it when his Aunt unexpectedly opened the cupboard door. She would have said something or taken the dog away if she had seen him holding it. He did not understand how he did that but it was so. He slept holding it every night.

He picked up the last items he owned, a dirty, ragged blue baby blanket and a small square of red and gold cloth that had a lion on it. It had been a blanket. He had woken up one morning to find himself wrapped in it. The square was all he had left and he put it in his pack. He then carefully rigged a string to the pee pail, placed it right next to the threshold of the cupboard and tied it to the door. With some luck, it would get pulled over onto one of their shoes when they yanked open the door when he didn't answer. He closed the door silently and locked it. He touched his hands to the door and closed his eyes and thought how the door should stick when pulled so they would have to yank it hard. He felt a tingle go down his arm and a blue light flashed around the door. He smiled and then went into the kitchen and put the toy in his back pack. He looked around to make sure he left no trace of his being there. Maybe they would not check on him for another day or two. Often he would be locked in the cupboard for two sometimes three days. It would be good if they did not find him missing at least until Monday morning, giving him ample time to disappear. The more time he had the better to get away. Perhaps they might not notice he was gone at all?

He put on his jacket, shouldered the backpack, picked up the plate with his sandwich, and another bottle of water and walked out the kitchen door. He paused on the stoop and drew in a deep satisfying breath of fresh air. A large breath of freedom. No more beatings. He felt like he walked on air. The night held no fear for him. He hid during the day, in his cupboard, in the back yard doing chores, at the old cat lady's house. As his aunt commented often to him:

"Best be out of sight, out of mind, BOY."

He silently closed the door and began to walk down the street away from his abusive family. He walked to the park which he passed on his way to and from school. He had never been allowed to play there. He was admonished to always go straight to school and go straight home. The one time he stopped there his Aunt had come looking for him and dragged him home and shut him in the cupboard for the entire weekend. He crossed the street and entered the park and sat on a bench facing the street.

He ate his sandwich slowly savoring every bite. When he was almost done the large black dog that hung around the neighborhood walked out of the woods next to the park and sat down in front of the boy about ten feet away. He had seen the dog often as long as he could remember. He seemed to be around whenever he was outside the house. He had played with it occasionally, especially when no one was around to see. The dog liked to follow him to and from school, usually shadowing him from across the street. Rarely did he come up to the boy. But once when he was following him home he growled at his cousin and chased him away nipping at his bum when he pushed him. The dog seemed skittish around people. He thought the dog was a loner with nobody, just like him. He was sure this was the dog that left him the stuffed dog that he had in his backpack. But how could that be? Chalk it up to another one of the strange things that seemed to happen to him. The dog whined and wagged his tail. He started inching slowly in the boy's direction. He held out a small piece of roast beef for the dog. The dog approached warily and sniffed the morsel. He reached out his tongue and took the meat and sat down. The boy finished his sandwich. He placed the plate on the bench and finished his bottle of water. He used the knife to cut the bottle in half and filled it from the fountain and placed it on the ground for the dog, which eagerly lapped it up. The boy laughed and filled it again and then climbed on the swing. It felt wonderful. This was the first time he'd ever went on a swing. He liked the feel of the wind in his face. The dog watched him the whole time. Whenever the boy looked at the dog he wagged his tail.

After a little while he collected his pack. He stared at the plate a minute and then picked it up and placed it in the bin by the gate. It would drive his Aunt crazy to find a plate missing. It would upset the carefully crafted order in the house. Maybe she'd blame his big dumb cousin. He started walking down the main street towards where his school was located. The dog followed him walking just behind him and to his side. It did not take long to reach the school. Without a second glance he passed it and continued onwards. There were no happy memories there. No laughter, No friends. His cousin and uncle had intimidated anyone who talked to him, so he was a loner. One teacher, Mrs. Williams-Smythe had been nice to him and had bought concerns about him to the principal, but a few days later she was gone and he was beaten and locked in his cupboard under the stairs for three whole days. He heard his Uncle telling Auntie that he'd gone to the school and given them a piece of his mind and gotten the teacher fired for spreading malicious lies.

Under a street light he struggled to read a sign on the post. It said Midland Zoo and had arrow pointing up the street in the direction he was going. He smiled and continued on. He walked for almost an hour and was getting tired. He noticed a time and temperature sign flashing 4:28 a.m. He yawned again. Looking around he saw a small playground. He walked into it and went to the back where he sat on the bench along the back fence. It was in shadow and set back between some trees and bushes. The dog climbed up on the bench and put his head in his lap. The boy petted the dogs head. What's your name boy? Huh? What do I call you? He sat there and thought long and hard and a memory popped into his head of someone visiting him when he was a baby and they had a black dog. Pad something they called it. I know I'll call you "Paddy"! That's the name I remember." He sat there with a smile on his face and slowly his eyes closed and soon fell asleep.