Broken
By Neurotica
Five
"Boy!" Vernon Dursley yelled through the kitchen of Number Four, Privet Drive. "Where's my coffee?"
Little Harry Potter started and turned to his uncle. "I'll get it, Uncle Vernon," he said meekly. He pushed up the sleeves of the too-big shirt that had once belonged to Dudley. Carefully, Harry poured his uncle's coffee, his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth, trying not to spill it again. Last week, he'd sustained a rather bad burn on his arm after spilling the scalding hot liquid. It had been Dudley's fault, really. The other boy had pushed Harry on his way to the fridge for a chocolate bar.
Harry picked up the hot mug from the counter with both hands, tears immediately filling his eyes at the temperature of the ceramic. He didn't dare complain, though. Stepping off the footstool he used to reach the coffee pot, he took the cup to his uncle.
Dudley waddled in, immediately being smothered by his mother as she said good morning. If Harry was forced to watch the exchange again, he was likely to be sick. Luckily, he hadn't eaten yet. He sat at the end of the table just as Aunt Petunia dropped a plate of burnt bacon and toast with runny eggs in front of him.
"Eat quickly," she snapped at the five-year-old. "We've got chores for you to do."
"Yes, Aunt Petunia," he said quietly, picking up his fork. As he ate, he tried to ignore his uncle's rants about how the government was handling some escaped prisoner.
"Where's the syrup?" Dudley whined loudly, interrupting his father's complaints.
"Here it is, Dudders," Aunt Petunia said fondly, smoothing the blond hair on Dudley's fat head.
Harry nearly lost his appetite watching Dudley smother his eggs and bacon with a disgusting amount of syrup. But if Aunt Petunia really had a lot of chores for him to do—he was sure she did—he'd need to keep up his strength. That was on one of the first lessons Harry learned with the Dursleys: always eat before going into the sun for the day.
Pretending it was something that actually tasted good—school food wasn't even this bad—Harry shoved the charcoal tasting toast and bacon into his mouth. If he'd wasted anymore time with his breakfast, he would have been out of luck until lunch. Dudley had started one of his world famous tantrums when Aunt Petunia turned his favorite cartoon over in favor of some gossip program on the television. Harry had to add clean Dudley's mess 'to his list of chores for the day after Dudley knocked all of the food and Uncle Vernon's coffee to the floor.
Uncle Vernon chuckled gruffly, muttering something about Dudley being a "little tyke," kissed Aunt Petunia's bony cheek, glared at Harry, and left for his day at work. Once he was out of the house, Dudley grabbed his after breakfast snack—a rather large piece of chocolate cake—and set himself in front of the living room television for the day. Aunt Petunia set Harry to his chores while she sat out in the backyard, reading her magazines and spied on the neighbors. Apparently, a young couple had moved in just down the street, and Aunt Petunia wanted to know all about them before she went to welcome them to the neighborhood.
Harry went to the shed in the backyard and retrieved the lawnmower. It always took him a good two hours to mow the lawn, and he hoped to finish before it became too hot—Harry had suffered from sun poisoning last summer. Two days later, he was back out in the summer heat, weeding the garden. He'd become so sick that day his aunt and uncle were forced to take him to the hospital. He'd been punished with a week in his cupboard for that...
Two and a half hours later, tired and sweaty, Harry pushed the lawnmower back to the shed. After making his and Dudley's lunches, Harry was allowed to go to the park and play for a few hours. He finished his dried carrot sticks and half ham sandwich, and left the house before his aunt could change his mind about the chore reprieve.
He passed Number Nine and averted his eyes as a young woman began to openly watch him. For a moment, Harry thought she was going to follow him, but a man (Mrs. Figg's friend, Norris, Harry realized) came to the front porch and held her back.
Padfoot had taken cover in the trees surrounding a small playground on Privet Drive. The sounds of laughing children playing had woken him early, and he'd gone in search of breakfast. He'd found some rather interesting berries in some of the shrubs deep in the woods to eat. Almost immediately, he regretted it when he was sick over another bunch of shrubs.
It reminded him of one time when the Marauders were still in school. Prongs and Padfoot were exploring the Forbidden Forest on a full moon, and were hungry. Wormtail was the one to find the blueberries. Moony flat out refused to eat them, and in his own werewolf way, advised the others not to eat them either. Much to Moony's amusement, the other Marauders spent two weeks under the care of Madam Pomfrey when they'd ignored him. The berries had been poisonous, and had symptoms that caused the three boys to require beds close to the bathroom for their entire stay.
Padfoot made a sound that resembled a chuckled at the memory.
"Go away!" yelled a voice at the park.
Padfoot moved to the edge of the woods to see what was going on. A group of boys that couldn't have been more than six or seven, stood together in a tight circle. The black dog sniffed the air and his jaw dropped. Anger and fear mixed with another scent, a familiar scent, were in the air.
Harry...
Sure enough, in the center of the circle was a small boy with black hair and round-rimmed glasses, held together with tape. The other boys had pushed him to the ground, teasing him, calling him a freak. Padfoot bared his fangs in a loud growl. Nobody messed with a Potter if he had anything to do with it...
The grim-like creature bounded from the shrubs, his teeth still bared, barking loudly. He broke through the circle, knocking a few of the boys to the ground. He stood between Harry and the biggest boy of the lot. Padfoot would have mistaken him for a pig if he hadn't had blond hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.
"Run for it!" one of the boys shouted. The boys started to flee down the street. Padfoot chased them for a bit until they'd gone around a corner, then went back to Harry.
The skinny boy still sat on the ground where Padfoot left him, wiping his bloody, scraped arm with his shirt sleeve. When he saw the dog approach again, his emerald green eyes widened in fear, and he tried to scoot backwards, far away from the dog.
Padfoot stopped in his tracks, realizing he'd frightened his godson. Using his best imitation of an innocent, harmless dog, he crawled on his belly the remaining distance to Harry. The boy still seemed wary of him, so the dog thumped his tail on the ground reassuringly and whimpered. Tentatively, Harry reached out a hand to the dog. He withdrew it quickly when Padfoot made to lick him.
After a few moments, Harry seemed to have decided the dog wouldn't hurt him and started to scratch the Padfoot's ears. The dog was rewarded when Harry actually smiled. It wasn't a large smile, though; it was actually shy, as if Harry didn't really know how to smile and be happy.
Padfoot repressed the urge to growl—Harry had only started to trust him... When those idiots at the Ministry realize I'm innocent, Harry, I'll make sure you know what it's like to be happy again, he thought.
Sometime later, Harry quietly stated that he had to go home; his aunt and uncle didn't like him to be late. It was the first time Padfoot had ever heard his godson's voice without the baby babble he used to speak with. It nearly broke his heart to think he might not get to see Harry for a long time. As his godson walked away from the park towards Number Four, Padfoot whimpered quietly to himself, longing to transform back to his human self, call Harry back, and hold him until his Hogwarts letter came in five years.
Julia and Remus sat at the small wooden table brought from Julia's flat in London eating a large dinner. The Muggleborn witch had been strangely silent since she'd seen Harry walking down the street earlier in the day.
"Never knew you could cook like this, Sedler," Remus joked quietly, trying to get his friend to smile. He succeeded a bit; her lips twitched, at least.
"Shut up, Lupin," she muttered, throwing a bread roll across the table, striking him in the forehead.
Remus laughed, and made to throw the roll back at Julia, but the doorbell rang at that moment. The two friends raised eyebrows at one another.
"Maybe it's Dumbledore?" Julia suggested.
Remus shook his head. "No, he's not coming until tomorrow," he said, looking down the hall. He exchanged a look with Julia, picked up his wand, and started for the door. Julia followed anxiously.
He looked through the little hole in the door and saw a tall blonde woman with horse-like face waiting impatiently for someone to answer the door.
"Who is it?" Julia whispered.
"Petunia Dursley." Remus turned and grinned.
Julia cursed quietly. "She knows me, Remus! I used to stay with Lily on summer holidays. Petunia never liked me for some reason."
Remus didn't miss the mischievous glint in her eyes. "Go upstairs, then. I'll take care of dear Petunia."
"Don't hurt her too badly, Moony." She grinned.
"Wouldn't dream of it," Remus replied, putting his wand in his back belt loop and covering it with his t-shirt.
Once Julia disappeared up the stairs—Remus was sure she would be listening closely to the conversation—he got his grin under control and opened the door. "Oh, hello," he said politely to the woman who obviously didn't recognize him.
"Hello, I'm Petunia Dursley, I live over in Number Four," Petunia said, pointing down the street. Remus pretended to just now realize the house was there. "My husband and I couldn't help but notice you moving in yesterday, and I've come to welcome you to the neighborhood," she said with an obviously fake smile.
"That's very nice of you, Mrs. Dursley. Might I inquire as to where Mr. Dursley is?"
"Oh, he's at home taking care of our son, Dudley," Petunia said. She was trying to look over Remus' shoulder into the house, but the wizard was too tall. He noticed immediately Petunia made no mention Harry... "We thought we saw a woman with you. Are you married, Mr..."
"Prewitt," Remus lied smoothly—he'd had a lot of practice with the Order of the Phoenix. "Norris Prewitt. And yes, I am married. My wife is just upstairs, unpacking a few things."
"How lovely. Well, she must join me for tea one afternoon and meet my Dudley. Do you and your wife have children, Mr. Prewitt?"
"No, I'm afraid not. My wife has been quite busy with her career. She works in foreign relations for the government," he said.
"And what do you do?" Petunia inquired.
Well, if she really wants to be nosy, might as well have fun with it... Remus thought wickedly, reverting almost automatically to his Marauder days. "I'm a caseworker for child welfare. Basically, I prosecute neglectful parents and guardians for their treatment of the children they'd been entrusted to care for."
Petunia's fake smile faltered. "Oh, that's nice," she said.
"Yes, it is. It's quite satisfying to see those who abuse helpless children—my specialty is with orphans—pay for their actions." Remus was darkly pleased to see her grow nervous.
"Well, it was wonderful meeting you, Mr. Prewitt, but I must return home. Oh, I almost forgot. I baked you some biscuits as a welcoming gift. I do hope you and your wife enjoy. And please, let us know if you need absolutely anything," Petunia said, handing Remus the plate of biscuits.
"Thank you, Mrs. Dursley. My wife will love these; she's got an incredible sweet tooth." He could almost see Julia rolling her eyes at his loud, fake laugh. "Good night, Mrs. Dursley."
"Good night, Mr. Prewitt."
She tried to sneak in one last look into the house before Remus closed the door on her. He turned towards the stairs and found Julia leaning against the wall, her arms crossed, glaring at him. He rolled his eyes at her threatening stare and walked to the kitchen.
"Would you like a cookie, darling?" he asked in a posh tone, holding the plate out for her as she entered.
"You're such a git," she said, her lips twitching.
"Why thank you, it is my best quality," he said with a bow of his head.
Julia chuckled and took one of the offered biscuits. "Not bad," she said thoughtfully after taking a bite. "Nice cover stories, by the way. You think she believed you?"
"Absolutely. You should have seen her face when I started talking about orphaned children," Remus said, biting into one of the biscuits. "And I didn't completely lie, either. The Department of Muggle/Wizard relations could count as foreign relations. And I do take satisfaction in seeing people suffer for their treatment of children."
"What about the names, Norris?" Julia grinned.
Remus shrugged. "That's what Arabella called me when I met Harry."
"And our," Julia cleared her throat, "relationship..."
Remus grinned. "Oh, come now, Julia. You know you've always fantasized about being married to a werewolf."
The rest of the biscuits became ammo for Julia as she threw them at her friend.