Lowly Beginnings
DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter et al. belongs to JK Rowling
-
AN: Hey all. I've been a fan of HP Fanfiction for over a year, and I think just the thought of having 'published work' would feel great and I'd like to get review responses just so I can say that someone read my work! Oh, and this will end up D/H slash. Also, since this is my first fiction, there will be mistakes, but I can't get a beta as internet access for me is rare. Please feel free to criticise my work, correct it or just make suggestions about what you would like to happen. I do have a plot but I am open to suggestions. Thank you for reading. 5/2/05
-
Chapter 1: When the Going Gets Tough
In the crowded streets of Little Whinging, Surrey, a boy, who looked no older than 7 or 8 but was in fact nearly 10, slipped by unnoticed by the shoppers. It was an art well practiced by the boy; he had spent much of his life unnoticed. Unwanted. Unloved.
The small black haired boy weaved in and out of the people, his large innocent but knowing emerald eyes shifting side to side, glancing over various people before dismissing them casually. Harry Potter's eyes finally rested on what appeared to be a well-to-do young man of around 30 with light hair who was resting by a chip stall along the High Street. Whilst the man had his hands full with his chips, Harry sidled up to him, hidden by the many customers, and reached up to the man's coat pocket with one slim delicate child's wrist. With a swift flick of the hand, the man's wallet was in Harry's hand. He ignored the mobile phone and cheque book that remained in the pocket: Uncle Vernon always said that good boys only took things that couldn't be traced. Harry wasn't sure what 'traced' was, but felt that if Uncle Vernon said so, then it must be good. And Harry was a good boy.
Harry turned, pleased with himself and his successful picking; Uncle Vernon would be happy with him today. Harry reached up to touch the lingering, faintly hand-shaped bruise on his cheek, before beginning to walk away with the intention of making another lift. If only he had seen the uneven pavement. He tripped and the wallet, along with 2 others, slipped from his pockets.
Worried bystanders, including the light haired man, crowded round him and looked at him with concern. As Harry looked into the man's eyes he saw emotion such as he would never receive from his own family, but as Aunt Petunia always said, 'You're a little shit, and you don't know what love is, let alone how to love.' The man's eyes travelled to the ground beside Harry before sliding over to rest upon his wallet. The man's eyes widened and he grasped his pocket, and felt it empty.
'Thief! Stop him!' the man cried as Harry tore from his grasp and ran past the stunned observers.
'Excuse me! Coming through! MOVE!' Harry panted as he pushed past people well over twice his height. His legs were burning from lack of oxygen and he has the sneaking suspicion his knees were bleeding from his previous fall.
Just as Harry thought he had outrun his pursuers, and chanced a look back, he ran flat out into a hard body,
'Oomph!' Harry fell to the floor for the second time and looked up at the man. In the blue uniform. With the police helmet on. Within seconds, Harry found himself hauled to his feet by the police man and a strong grip maintained on his fragile wrist.
'Ah Jake… you caught him,' gasped the light haired man who had caught up with Harry and the police man whilst Harry had been detained, and was now holding his chest. Harry was barely out of breath, but the grip on his arm still preventing his from fleeing.
'You're right there, Paul mate,' replied the officer holding Harry. Harry looked between the two men who were appearing very threatening to him now; his position had never been compromised like this before. 'Bloody hell. You know, I never expected it to turn out to be a little blighter like this 'un though.'
The light haired man who Harry now appreciated was a plainclothes policeman looked down with a reprimanding, but surprisingly gentle look,
'You know kiddo, we've been looking for an elusive pickpocket along this street for a while. Been lots of complaints about wallets going missing, and the victims have never noticed a thing. You must be good…we were expecting a criminal mastermind. So, how long have you been working along this street?'
Harry kept quiet. He knew they were trying to bait him into saying something. Into admitting something. He knew they were going to arrest him; they had caught him with the evidence on his person, but he wasn't going to say anything. Children should be seen and not heard, although his aunt had been keen on him avoiding being both seen and heard. He was scared now; what would Uncle Vernon say now?
'Alright kid. I'm afraid you'll have to follow us now. That's right, come along,' Harry followed them along the street until they reached a police car. Upon the sight of it, Harry panicked and turned around and sank his teeth into the man holding him in desperation. Harry wasn't usually violent, but spending so much time on the street and being the smallest in his class whenever he attended school meant he had a very good defence system; his reflexes were lightning fast, he knew where to make it hurt, and he had surprisingly good aim and muscle strength for one so small.
'Aargh!' The man let out a cry and Harry made a run for it.
'Not so fast little fellow,' the Paul shouted as he grabbed Harry by the scruff of his collar. 'Wow… you really let him have it.' He added as he examined his colleagues arm which had angry red teeth mark just above the wrist.
The other man was looking at Harry not so benevolently now, but more with a mixture of disbelief than with anger. He could not understand how such a sweet, innocent boy could be mixed up with such bad dealings. He supposed it must be the parents. The boy's eyes were impossibly wide and pleading as they welled with tears, but the man pushed aside his remorse,
'What's your name, son?'
Harry realised there was no way to not answer, it was pointless.
'Harry. Harry Potter, sir.' Came Harry's meek reply.
'Well Harry, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you are going to have to come with us. What's your parents name and address?'
Harry hesitated, but realised that the police would be able to find out anyway. What would it help to refuse? Except to spare him Uncle Vernon's wrath. After a lengthy pause, Harry opened his mouth,
'My parents and godparents died in a crash. When I was little. I live with my Aunt and Uncle. The Dursleys. You aren't going to tell them are you? Please?'
'I'm sorry Harry,' the man said regretfully, 'But we're going to have to. I suspect they're mixed up in this too.' The boys wide eyes gave him away to the man. Harry mentally cursed… he was usually such an expert liar- lack of affection and attention throughout his life had made it easy for him to distance himself from other people. Whilst he may not understand emotions properly, when he did feel them, they were always more profound and intense and he was able to recognise them and used this to his advantage in becoming a practiced liar.
The officer sighed and shook his head when Harry gave him the address of his house; it was one of the council flats on the west side of town. The slum area. It was interesting- this boy was so well spoken and polite. He was so sweet, it was a shame he had to be cursed with such shockingly irresponsible relatives. He had heard of this sort of thing before; people sending their children out to do the dirty work, bringing the children up with mixed morals and punishing them for anything… the bruising on Harry cheek had not gone unnoticed by him.
Paul, who had been thinking the same as his friend, walked up to them, knelt down so he was face to face with Harry, and said,
'I know this is difficult Harry. I know. But we're going to take you away from the Dursleys. You don't need to worry about anything. You're safe. You don't need to protect them.' Paul looked intensely into Harry's eyes but they were devoid of emotion; he was hiding them very well in his expressive green eyes. But Paul kept staring until glimpses of life appeared; fear was the first emotion which Paul suspected was brought on by the belief Harry felt he did need to keep quiet or face his relative's fury, but this was swiftly followed by a flash of hope that nearly bowled Paul away in its passion.
Before he knew what was happening, Paul found himself with an armful of sobbing, 9 year old, Harry James Potter,
'I'm sorry,' he wailed. 'I'm sorry! I'm sorry but I don't know. And Un-unc-uncle Vernon said I'm good if I get the money, but I don't understand. And m-m-my teacher- she's nice- she says- she says that stealing, and- and lying- and- and that it's wrong and you shouldn't do it. I don't understand! And I don't like it, and he hurts with his fist, and he kicks, and it HURTS!' Harry's voice rose and rose until it was hysterical high pitched wail.
Paul comfortingly patted and rubbed Harry's back. He was just a child, he thought angrily. Just a child, and he'd been brought up as a criminal who couldn't distinguish between right and wrong, and these consequences would follow him for years to come. As he led a slightly calmer Harry to the car, and as he placed an obliging Harry into the car, he promised to himself that he would make sure the Dursleys were brought to justice and that Harry was brought up in a stable and caring new family.
-
AN: Well, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. I know nothing's happened yet, and it's hard for me to judge whether you'll like it. No D/H yet; Draco probably won't arrive until chapter 2 or 3. According to my plot plan, the story should be getting more interesting at chapter 3 or 4, and I predict the story to be about 15 chapters. Please, regardless of what you thought of the story, read and review.
-
