Days were monotonous at the Dursleys. Harry viewed every day as boring. Who could blame him; it was practically the same routine every day. The only day different from the rest was Dudley's birthday, not even his own. Of course, just like any other day, he still had to do chores, undergo Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's harsh treatment towards him, but Dudely was just more whiny than usual. always complaining about something if it doesn't go his way and bragging about his endless pile of birthday presents.
As much as Harry disliked his cousin, he was still family and should be respected. Well, that's what Aunt Petunia told him the one time he retaliated on why Dudley was spoiled while Harry was not. He was also told that he should be grateful he even is allowed to live under their roof and not left to rot at an orphanage. Honestly, Harry rather preferred to be homeless than living with them any longer.
Harry was woken up early by three loud knocks on his door and the usual yell from Aunt Petunia to get ready and prepare breakfast.
"Get up Boy! You'll be helping me out to make Diddykins' birthday breakfast," she commanded as she knocked on the door one more time. "Make sure not to burn anything this time." With that, her footsteps grew faint as she entered the kitchen to prepare for breakfast.
Harry groaned as he got up from his bed if you could even call it that, to get ready for the day. He dreaded the day to come; he's certainly not physic, as far as he knew at least, but all of Dudley's birthdays were predictable. The Durselys would eat breakfast as they always did, except for Harry who would often eat the scraps left over. Though the ridiculous amount of Dudley's presents on the kitchen table would make it hard for everyone to have enough room to eat. Afterward, the Durselys would go somewhere special for Dudley's birthday, leaving him in the care of either or one of Aunt Petunia's friends for the entirety of the day, or at least until they came back.
They didn't like leaving Harry alone in the house. Not because he was a small child that could potentially endanger himself without adult supervision. No, certainly not that; the Durselys didn't care for his safety necessarily. They just thought of him as some freak, up to no good that would mess up the very foundation of their lives if they let him.
The mouthwatering aroma of eggs and bacon soon filled the kitchen and swept throughout the house. Mrs. Dursley, accompanied by Harry, occupied the kitchen, preparing a birthday breakfast for the beloved Dudely (not by Harry that's for sure). Mrs. Dursley was more uptight than usual. She nitpicked everything Harry was doing. She assured him this was to make sure there would be no mistakes as it was for her son's birthday. Harry internally groaned and thought to himself that Dudely would eat any food placed in front of him.
Now that breakfast was finally finished and on the table, Dudley was the first to sit down and immediately devour as much as a seven-year-old could. On the other hand, Harry was the last as he was stuck cleaning up the kitchen. This meant that he was stuck with eating a leftover, burnt toast that Aunt Petunia refused to even put on the table. As he ate, he tuned out Dudley rambling on and on about his multitude of birthday gifts that took up a hefty portion of the tablespace. He snapped out of his daydream, which consisted of him riding a cotton candy horse down a road made of chocolate when his aunt said something that caught Harry's attention.
"You heard what I said Vernon, isn't available to watch over Harry while we go to the amusement park." Aunt Petunia went back to take a bite off her toast as she awaited the response of her husband.
Harry glanced at his uncle who looked as if you told him the most horrid news. Uncle Vernon quickly recomposed himself; he stared at Dudley then at Harry before he formed an appropriate response.
"Isn't there someone else who can watch over him? You can't possibly expect us to leave him here alone the entire day?"
"Of course not, that would be absurd." Aunt Petunia snapped as she briefly glanced over at Harry. "There is my friend who could come over to watch him for us. However, on such short notice, she might take a while to get here."
"But, we don't have that sort of time! If we plan on being punctual, we have to leave soon!"
The two went back and forth discussing the details, ensuring Harry wouldn't be left alone the whole day. At first, Harry sighed at this; he hated being difficult to people, especially the Dursleys's who were all he had. But the more he thought about it, this could be his chance to get out of here.
Harry didn't even realize the risk he'd take if he went through with his plan. He didn't care. After all, he was just a little kid; a little kid who hated being where he was. He figured, anywhere else was better than being with his so-called family.
After a half an hour or so of making phone calls and calming down Dudley, the Durselys were almost out the door. Before Harry could initiate his plan into motion, Uncle Vernon stopped to talk to him.
"Listen here boy, if it were up to me, you wouldn't be left alone not even for one second, but we cannot afford to be late. Now, will be here shortly in ten minutes." He paused before turning around towards the car and then back at Harry. The faint yelling of Aunt Petunia pressuring her husband to hurry up could be heard from outside.
"Don't you dare do anything you are not supposed to. I expect this house to be in the same condition it was when we left, if not better," Uncle Vernon warned him. Now finished with his talk, he walked out the front door and locked it. Harry quickly began to put his plan into effect as soon as the car's engine became inaudible.
He started packing the very few things he had. He gathered two spare changes of clothes and some coins he found underneath the couch into a worn-out backpack. The color, once bright blue, was now almost close to a blue-ish grey. It was the backpack that Dudley had worn on the first day of school, but after it had gotten torn slightly on one of the pockets, he quickly abandoned it and begged for a new one from his parents. Having no use, the backpack was passed down to Harry who had now used it for the past two years.
Before exiting through the unlocked back door, Harry first checked to see if there were any prying eyes from nosy neighbors. Seeing that the coast was clear, Harry quickly unlocked the door and closed it behind him once he made his way to the front yard. He stopped and looked at his surroundings. The street was quiet bringing about a comforting calm atmosphere. Before his thoughts could go elsewhere, Harry heard the approaching sound of a car engine, assuming it be, Harry began to run down the street, not stopping until he was almost out of breath.
He sat down on the sidewalk to recompose himself. He looked around and realized he didn't recognize any of the nearby buildings. He must have been so caught up in running that he didn't realize where he was going. Heck, he didn't even make a plan on where to go. "Well, too late to turn back now," Harry thought as he walked around a little more.
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After a couple of minutes, he came across a convenience store. His stomach growled as he thought about buying food. Digging up the couple of coins he had, he stepped through the doors of the store. It wouldn't hurt if he bought anything.
The store was relatively quiet except for two people whispering while arguing. Harry chose to ignore as long as they weren't going to bother him. He made his way to the snack aisle and grabbed a packet of cookies from the closest shelf he could reach from.
He made his way back to the cash register after getting a pack of gum and a juice box. The man at the cash register loomed over him, making Harry feel smaller than he already was. He barely managed to place the items, let alone properly face the cashier.
The cashier, whose name tag read "Michael", raised his eyebrows slightly at Harry before scanning the items.
"That'll be 6 pounds," Michael paused before looking down on Harry. "Do you have any money, kid?"
Without saying anything, Harry retrieved the three coins from his backpack and placed them on the counter. Harry, not yet fully understanding the concept of money apart from what he heard from his uncle and aunt, didn't realize that what he had was not enough to pay for his items.
Bewildered, Michael picked up the coins and saw that Harry didn't have enough, one of the coins wasn't even real. He placed the coins down and gave Harry an expression he knew too well: pity.
"Listen, kid, this isn't enough to buy this. If you can't pay for it, place it back on the aisle and-" Michael started to say before the voice of a young man interrupted him.
"I'll be paying for his items if you don't mind." Harry turned around and found the man who had spoken up accompanied by another man around the same age. Both looked to be fairly young, in the early to mid-twenties, both having blond hair.
"Are you his father or?" The cashier looked at Harry then back at the men.
"Yes, he's our son," he chuckled, "he just wanted to prove that he could pay on his own just like his father and me, isn't that right, Harry?" The strange man looked down at Harry who stared bewildered at him knowing his name. The man's hair, although blonde, was just as messy as Harry's hair. The resemblance didn't stop there as Harry's green eyes stared back into the man's own emerald-colored eyes, like a mirror's reflection. While Harry's still held some sort of childhood wonder, the man's had a hint of sadness and something Harry couldn't put his finger on.
"Now, wait for us outside while we finish things up in here, okay?"
Harry nodded and walked outside, sitting on the curbside near the door. Left alone to his wandering thoughts, Harry began to wonder why in the world would this strange man help him, let alone know his name? All he knew from adults was his experience with his aunt and uncle, and they weren't the type of people to help strangers. Maybe these men knew who his parents were? Maybe they were his parents? Would that be possible? After all, Harry had never met his parents. According to Aunt Petunia, they had died in a car crash when he was one year old which resulted in the oddly-shaped lightning bolt scar on his forehead.
The jingle of the door made Harry turn around. As he said, the man stood there with the box of cookies. He smiled at Harry and both he and his companion sat down on either side of Harry. In any other situation, Harry would have run, feeling scared by the strangers, but he didn't for some reason. He felt oddly comforted by the men's presence. He didn't feel scared or intimidated like he would if the men were his Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia. Unlike them, the men seemed to be concerned for Harry, even going out of their way and using their money to buy Harry his cookies.
The man smiled as handed over the cookies before speaking, "Nice to finally meet you, Harry. My name is Arthur Kirkland."
