Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. All I own is my original characters and settings that will come up later is the story.

I am rewriting/adding parts of this story to improve it and get rid of inconsistencies. If you see any let me know.

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Harry slid into his chair at the table. His face and arms were bright red and stung when they brushed against his shirt. He moved away from the table to keep his arms a safe distance from the tablecloth. His skin felt too tight and yet too thin. It was going to break. His skin would break open and he would just ooze all over the floor. He'd disintegrate. Then Uncle Vernon would really hate him. Aunt Petunia laid a plate in front of him. Apparently his skin posed too big a risk of peeling off in their food and poisoning them for him to cook. She set a plate of mold in front of him. Bean casserole? He stabbed a round bulge with his fork. Beans, mold, the only difference is really a couple of weeks in the refrigerator. He kept his face neutral. He had to eat something. Criticizing the food is a sure way to end up starved. Ungrateful brat. I am. Dudley is eating the same thing. Granted his looks a little less burnt, but it's still the same thing. He's eating it as fast as he can scoop it into his mouth. Though Dudley would probably eat dryer lint if you heated it up and put ketchup on it. Harry stuck the fork in his mouth. He choked on the scent of burned cheese. He swallowed quickly. The voices drifted around him. Dudley was shoveling food into his mouth still. He even sounds like a pig at the trough. Aunt Petunia kept nodding. Harry forced another forkful of food into his mouth. Stale birthday cake sounds really good right about now.

Harry's head was pounding. It was even becoming rhythmic. Harry rubbed his head. Was that a bad thing? He ripped his hand away from his head. His forehead felt like it'd been rubbed raw.

Uncle Vernon's voice faltered. Harry glanced up. Was it so loud that other people could hear it? "Who could that be, rude enough to call during dinner? Dudley, go and see who it is."

Dudley looked longingly down at his empty plate before squirming out of his chair and waddling to the door. Oh. Someone was knocking on the door. Does that mean it wasn't in his head. The doorknob clicked and the door swung open with the slightest creak of the hinges. Dudley screamed and ran back into the kitchen. "It's-It's one of THEM."

Uncle Vernon's eyes darted around. He hefted himself out of his chair and moved it between himself and the door. His lips were pressed tight together and his face flushed darker as the footsteps got louder.

Remus Lupin walked into the kitchen. His pink and blue striped button up shirt hung on his thin frame. His cheeks were sunken in his face. He looked as if he hadn't eaten in awhile. His gray pants were too long and brushed the floor as he walked.

Uncle Vernon spluttered in the face of a wizard that looked almost normal. "What are you doing here? Get out of my house." He tried to back up and bumped into the table. The legs creaked and the water splashed out of Harry's glass.

Remus pulled out his wand and pointed it at Uncle Vernon. "Not until you tell me what you're doing to him." He moved forward and glanced around his bulk to glimpse Harry. He frowned and Harry hid his lobster red arms behind his back.

"Doing? I--We-We are treating him perfectly well. Better than the little brat deserves." He turned on Harry, splashing more water over the table. The liquid soaked into the tablecloth and the wet spot spread toward his plate. "What have you been telling them? You filthy little liar."

Harry pushed himself to his feet knocking the chair to the floor. "I told them I'm fine. I don't know why he's here." His arms were shaking and he clasped his hands behind his back. Everything would get worse after this. The food would get worse, the work would get harder, he'd spend more time locked in his room. He couldn't be locked in his room. He needed to be able to get out. They couldn't trap him in there. Someone would notice. Someone would save him. He tensed all his muscles to conceal the trembling he couldn't stop.

Remus' forehead furrowed and he lowered his wand to his side. "Then why didn't you answer my letter?"

"I was busy. Is that a crime now?" He pulled at the back of his shirt.

Remus took a step toward him, moving around Uncle Vernon whose face blanched at having Remus so close to him. "After what I told you in that--"

"I didn't read it." He moved away from the table and pressed against the wall.

Remus froze and scratched his head with the hand holding his wand. Aunt Petunia pulled Dudley farther away from the table toward the stove. Remus looked over at Harry again. "You didn't read it?"

Harry forced his eyes to stay open. If he closed his eyes maybe everything would go away. But the odds weren't good enough that that would happen. Damn reality. "No--It didn't look important."

Remus grabbed his shoulders and pulled him closer. "You get a letter at five thirty in the morning and you don't think it's important?"

Harry shoved him away and slid across the wall and closer to the back door. Have to have an escape plan. Always have to be able to escape. "No. And so what? Since when do I have to read my mail at a certain time? Maybe I'll have time to read it next week."

Remus moved toward him again. "Harry--"

Harry smacked his hands away and bolted backwards. He slammed into the door and the glass rattled. "Why don't you just leave? We were in the middle of dinner and you're ruining it." He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to slow his breathing. Footsteps echoed down the hallway and the front door shut. He hurried back to the table, righted the chair, and sat down, staring at the food as he ate it.

Uncle Vernon's voice faltered as he sat back down and then returned to normal. Dudley started slurping down a second helping. Aunt Petunia was staring at him every time he glanced up. He kept his eyes on the tablecloth until dinner finished. He picked up the plates and carried them to the sink. He grabbed the soap and started washing them.

The door closed behind him, but the locks didn't turn. Harry sighed and walked to the bed, throwing the blanket back on the mattress. The letter rested against the bed frame. He picked it up and broke the seal on the back. Long lines of text filled the page. He crumpled the envelope with the letter inside. What could that man possibly have to tell him? After three years of knowing one of his parents best friends he'd barely been told anything about his parents. Snape told him more for goodness sakes. All they ever tell me is that I'm just like James. But I'm not. James would never dream--would never let that happen. I'm not like him. But I'll never know because they'll never tell me anything. He threw the letter in the garbage. Why couldn't they leave him alone? He ran his hands through his hair. Why couldn't he make his own choices for once? He chucked his dirty shirt into the bottom of the wardrobe. This was his life. He spread the blanket out on the bed. He had faced everything by himself. He slammed his fists into the desk. He didn't have anyone looking out for him when that man-- He grabbed a book off the floor and threw it at the wall. It's a dream. He tipped over his trunk. It isn't real. He swept everything off the dresser. This isn't-- it isn't happening. His knees collapsed. He squeezed his eyes shut. It's a dream. None of this is happening. It's not--Sirius isn't dead. He's just hiding from the ministry. It'll be safer for him if they're not looking. He curled up on the floor, the cold wood soothing his scorching skin. I'll go live with him next year. He dug his fingers into his rough jeans and pulled his knees closer to his chest. Everything's going to be okay.