Chapter 6

The next morning, Harry woke up a throbbing around his neck from Vernon's meaty hand. His chest ached as well from where Vernon had kicked him, but not as bad. The impenetrable darkness that surrounded him brought on a flash of panic, but he managed to squash it down. He would never have been able to do that before, but it wasn't his biggest fear anymore. It still scared him, only Vernon scared him more.

When Petunia opened the door, she peered intently at him for a few seconds before she noticed his face contort in pain every time he moved, and the bottom of a purple bruise on his side when his shirt pulled upwards slightly. She remembered how her sister used to heal unnaturally quickly, when she broke her arm falling down some stairs it was back to normal within a day. It seemed the boy really couldn't do any of that witchcraft her sister could. No outbursts, what Lily had once said was called accidental magic, no fighting back. There would be no unnaturalness under her roof.

Satisfied, she grabbed Harrys arm and yanked him out of the cupboard, delighting in the pained cry that escaped his lips, before commanding him to get to work on breakfast and pointing at an extensive list of chores she expected him to do, as if he wasn't a 5 year old boy and an injured one at that. Harry only hoped that things didn't continue on like this. He couldn't do it. Maybe his parents would come and get him soon.

~Scene Change~

Things only got worse for Harry over the following weeks. He started school, and became the number one target of Dudley's gang of bullies. He would rarely go a day without an injury of some kind, but no one helped. They just watched. Classes provided a reprieve from the punches but it still wasn't much better. No one came near him; while all the other tables were crowded he had one to himself. He was the outcast, the pariah. Parents would hurry their children along at the end of the day if they came out next to him, shooting him suspicious glares all the while. He had already spent a lot of time in the nurse's office for things varying from scraped hands after being pushed down or a bleeding head after being barged into a wall. And while she gave him plasters and ice packs to hold over his injuries, she never once looked at him with anything less than thinly veiled disdain.

At the Dursley's house - he would never call it his home - things had gotten progressively worse. Vernon seemed to take more and more enjoyment from his 'punishments' with every passing day. It wasn't always as hard as that first time, but it did always happen.

A month into his stay, both Harry and Dudley had brought back report cards from school. Dudley's displayed the baffling extent of just how stupid somebody could be, while Harry's showed top marks. That night was the night Harry learned not to do better than Dudley, else he be disciplined for 'cheating'. Fortunately it was a Friday, otherwise his injuries at school the next day would have been obvious even to a blind man. As it was he couldn't move for the entirety of Saturday, his hunger the only reason he dragged himself out of his cupboard on Sunday. And even then he had to wear a long baggy shirt to hide the bruises. By this point, the cupboard and its impenetrable darkness no longer bothered him; it was his safe place now, when he was in there no one hurt him. What had previously been his room was back to being Dudley's second bedroom, and after several failed attempts to break into his trunk Vernon had finally given up. It was far too heavy in its enlarged form for him to bother moving it, so he had simply left it there, piled loose bricks around it and locked the door to make sure Harry couldn't get to it.

Every night Harry would hope for Sirius or his parents or Andi to come and get him. He knew they said it was safer here, but that couldn't be right. Where could be worse than this? And every day that Harry remained at the Dursleys, he wondered why they hadn't come. Did they not like him? Maybe they were happier now he wasn't there. He didn't want to believe it, but why else would they leave him here? His thoughts got increasingly more depressing with every passing day.

By the time winter rolled around, Harry was adjusting to the hell in which he had been thrown, but he still held out hope that he would be rescued and everything would go back to how it was. He could play with Nymmie all day and they could fall asleep leaning against 'their tree', an enormous oak tree that sat at the edge of the lake at Potter Manor, it was their favourite place. He missed her more than anybody; he spent almost all his time with her and now he hadn't seen her in months. The pictures he had were locked in his trunk, so he couldn't even use those to ward off his homesickness.

For Harry's sixth birthday in November, Dudley seemed to apply what little intelligence he had entirely to making Harry's day miserable. Stomping down the stairs at 5:30 in the morning especially to wake him up, sending the dust and spiders that inhabited the cupboard cascading onto his face, then demanding third helpings of breakfast instead of the usual two. At school, he went out of his way to get Harry into trouble, his piggy eyes alight with enjoyment every time Harry got scolded for something he didn't do. He poured water over Harry at break time, soaking him and his tattered summer jacket and causing him to shiver in the freezing temperatures and howling winds. When Harry got back to the Dursleys house to find Vernon staring at him, angrier than he had ever seen him, with Dudley stood smirking behind him, he tensed. As always, Vernon had picked Dudley up and driven him the two miles back from the school, leaving Harry to walk, but he had never arrived to anything like this before.

Agony greeted Harry when he groggily regained consciousness later that night. He had no idea what time it was, the complete lack of light in the cupboard made telling impossible, but he from the sounds coming from the next room it seemed to be late evening. Attempting to move proved to be pointless, the sharp pain of bones grinding against each other sent pain lancing through his body. Opting to remain as still as possible, he fell into an uneasy sleep.

When he awoke, he felt like he was burning and his heart was beating rapidly and his body shook as if stuck in an earthquake. He hated them, hated the pain they had caused him. His thoughts strayed to his family, finally giving up hope that they would come. He missed them desperately, but clearly they didn't miss him. As his vision blurred and tongue dried, his last thought before passing out once more was the desperation he felt that the pain would go away, not noticing the warmth spreading down his back.

~Scene Change~

The whirring of the vacuum pulled Harry back into consciousness. It must be afternoon then; on the days she stayed home, Petunia always went and gossiped in the morning before satisfying her compulsive need for cleanliness in the afternoons. As he awoke he instinctively sat up, and grimaced when he remembered his injuries and the pain he would inevitably feel. Instead, he was startled by the complete lack of any pain. Twisting every which way in awe, he still felt nothing but the slight pulling sensation of the marks on his back. Not even his ribs hurt anymore! All the other times he had been hurt anywhere near this badly it had taken several days before he could even move, and now he was fine overnight. It was all very confusing. He supposed Petunia must have given him some medicine when he was asleep, she wouldn't want him to die. That would a dreadful inconvenience. Even then though, it seemed very fast. But that must be it, it was the only explanation. He knew it couldn't be magic. He had never used magic before, but even he knew you couldn't do it without a wand. He didn't even know any spells.

Absently, he wondered how long he would be locked in his cupboard for this time. The current record was two days, but the punishment he got before that wasn't nearly that bad. He was already hungry and extremely thirsty, so hopefully they would at least give him some water. The thought of being locked in his cupboard wasn't a particularly distressing one at this point, more comforting actually. He was always safe in his cupboard, it was when he left it that things went badly.

It wasn't like he had any reason to want to leave anyway. He didn't have anything he enjoyed doing and he had no friends he wanted to see, apart from Nymmie but she wasn't here. Even before he was sent to the Dursleys, Harry would be quite introverted at times and would have periods where he would isolate himself from everyone else, normally hiding in the library and reading the various books and tomes there. It would always take either Sirius or Nymphadora to snap him out of it, and then he would be back to normal. Now though, he was in that detached mindset constantly; there was nobody to pull him out of it, and nobody to interact with anyway.

Unfortunately, there wasn't much to do in a cupboard with no light, so he let his imagination run wild. Sometimes he would be a famous quidditch player winning the world cup, sometimes a dragon tamer who flew through the skies on the back of a Hungarian Horntail, others he would an ancient warrior battling monsters and emerging victorious, just like in his book. He could spend hours dreaming of impossible fantasies. He would also spend a lot of time reliving his happy memories; Playing with Nymmie; putting a saddle on Padfoots back and racing around the manor; swerving through the air on his training broom; visiting Diagon Alley for the first time with his parents. He could remember them all with perfect clarity.

Later that day, the door opened slightly, and a bottle of water as well as a crust of bread was thrown in before the door was swiftly locked again. As much as he wanted to drink the whole bottle now, Harry knew this would be all he would get. This ended up being a smart decision, as he was left in there for another day and a half. When he finally got out, the light stung brightly at his eyes and his legs were weak with exhaustion. He really needed to eat.

Stumbling through cooking breakfast, Harry wolfed down the scraps given to him in a manner much like Dudley would do every morning and then retreated to get dressed in his frayed uniform for school, wondering how the Dursleys had explained his absence. As it turned out, they had told the headmaster that they had caught him stealing from them again and had wanted to deal with the punishment themselves. This only caused the teachers and students alike to become even more suspicious towards him from then on, though the librarian softened slightly after a few weeks. He was always polite when he would come in and read whatever books caught his fancy, and he made sure never to damage them like Dudley seemed to take great pleasure in doing.

~Scene Change~

The childish innocence that he had arrived with was steadily disappearing, and with each day and with each blow more and more was lost. Vernon possessed a cruelty that the Devil himself would pale at, and Harry had the marks to prove it. His former constant feeling of contentment and happiness had been replaced by fear and anger which he had learned to hide behind a polite, often subservient mask. They liked seeing him like that, whether that was because they thought it indicated success or because it gave them some perverse sense of pleasure. There hadn't been another instance of Harry miraculously healing overnight and he was still immensely curious as to how it happened. He just hoped it would happen more often so he didn't have to suffer the pain in the morning after.

On Christmas Eve, Harry was locked outside in nothing but a faded shirt, torn trousers and thin jacket, his red face in sharp contrast to the bright green of his eyes and the pale blue of his fingers. The Dursleys were at a Christmas party and would be staying the night – the CEO of Vernon's company or something. Harry didn't know what a CEO actually was, but from the look of their bulging tuxedos he supposed it was something fancy.

Of course, there was no way they would take their freakish nephew along, so Vernon had simply unlocked the shed and told Harry he would sleep in there, never mind that it was below freezing and leaving a child out in such low temperatures was more likely to kill them. Maybe that's what he was going for. In a desperate attempt to warm up, Harry was shuffling aimlessly around the neighbourhood in search of some sort of warmth until he got to a row of abandoned warehouses. He'd never been to this part of town before and was about to turn back until he saw a flicker of flame dance against the broken glass of a window. The chattering of his teeth won out against his fear and he entered the warehouse. There were about 25 people, all wrapped in blankets and tattered coats crowded around flaming barrels, some with their palms extended towards the fire.

His entrance caused everyone to turn their heads to face him, and he suddenly felt like a deer in headlights. He almost regretted coming in but he was so cold. Clearly his indecision showed on his face, as several of them walked towards him and moved to put their hands on his shoulder. He flinched on reflex and hunched his body slightly to protect his ribs. All of them looked startled, though several had an understanding look on her face that swiftly gave way to anger.

One woman approached him slowly, shooing the gathered crowd away with a discrete wave of her hand. She had tangled blonde hair streaked with dirt, warm brown eyes and sharp cheekbones, though if that was natural or just a result of not getting enough food was anyone's guess. She was tall, and her skinny figure made her look slightly skeletal, particularly with the way the blanket was wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Even through the dirt on her hands and the grime on her clothes she appeared kind and approachable, a friendly smile on her face when she looked at the boy that didn't quite hide her concern.

The clothes he was wearing looked like they were for a boy twice his size and hung off his frame like a sheet, and the thin jacket he wore would do nothing in this weather. The round glasses that perched in front of his emerald eyes looked to have been taped several times and the rather gaunt look of his face showed that while he had once eaten well, he hadn't been for quite some time. He couldn't have been older than 5 or 6. Why was he here? She was positive she would recognise him had she seen him before.

Cautiously approaching, she bent down to his height so that he would meet her eyes. The crushed yet hopeful look they held was one she had seen in hers so many times during her childhood, though she had been older than he was. The slight favouring of his left side could be attributed to the cold or an unusual gait by most, but she saw it for what it was. He had been beaten, and pretty recently too. What sort of person would do that to such a sweet looking kid?

"What's your name?"

"H-harry," The look on his face told her he wasn't used to talking to people, but the voice he used made her want to hunt down the bastard who did this to him herself. He sounded so…meek, resigned to whatever was happening to him. As if anything even half way resembling attitude would get him another beating.

"Hi Harry, I'm Olivia. You want to come stand by the fire with us?"

With Harry's timid nod and hum of agreement, she extended her hand and patiently waited for him to take it. Seeming to find what he was looking for after a moment of scrutiny, he gently grabbed on and followed her to the fire, not noticing the looks Olivia was shooting at the others, making it clear in one expression that Harry did not have a good life. The others instantly connected the dots, some having had similar childhoods themselves.

Harry was completely oblivious to the sorrowful looks he was getting, instead huddling next to the fire with a small contented smile on his face. Olivia imagined he didn't smile often, but when he did it lit up his face, making him look like a child of his age should.

"What are you doing out this late, Harry?"

Harry jumped slightly and hurried to rearrange his face into something more neutral. Vernon didn't like it when he looked happy. Usually, he would give an excuse if someone ever asked, but these people didn't know him and clearly hadn't been poisoned by the Dursleys lies. Vernon had made it very clear that he wasn't to tell anyone about what happened in the house. He had said he would "drown him in a bucket like the runt he was" if he told a teacher or, worse, the police. Harry had no doubt he would go through with it too. But surely they would never find out, especially if he begged Olivia not to tell anyone else. He felt like he could trust her for some reason. Making his decision, Harry decided he would be truthful but only about the smaller parts, he wouldn't be telling her the bad stuff until he was sure he could trust her.

"My relatives are at a party and locked me out. They'll be back in the morning though. And they left the shed unlocked so I could sleep in there."

The way he said the second part made it sound like he was trying to make it seem better, and she realised he didn't trust her yet. Inwardly she was seething. Who the hell locks a child outside in sub-zero temperatures so they could go to a party?

"Nope. You're not going to sleep in a shed, you'll freeze to death. You can stay here tonight, and you can share my sleeping bag. Much warmer that way." The slight tugging at his lips reminded her so much of her little sister, and it made her heart warm and clench simultaneously.

Snapping back to reality, she saw Harry watching curiously. Clearly she had zoned out longer than she thought. Noticing the already numbing temperature was getting even colder and that the fire was slowly starting to die, she dragged her sleeping bag over and slid in. Harry remained standing, looking around nervously. Shuffling backwards, she patted the space in front of her.

"Hey, I said we could share didn't I?"

The happy smile reappeared on his face and he slipped in beside her and quickly fell asleep, and Olivia followed shortly after.

~Scene Change~

Stirring awake as the day's first rays penetrated the warehouse, Olivia dazedly wondered why there was a radiator snugged back into her chest, and why it was moving. She blinked the sleep from her eyes and looked down and saw a messy head of black hair shifting in his sleep. He looked so much younger in his sleep. When awake he had held a constant tension in his shoulders, and his eyes held knowledge of the depths of human cruelty, knowledge that no child should ever possess. Now, he looked like a normal little boy.

A small groan of protest echoed through the crumbling warehouse as he woke up and looked around in confusion before he saw her and blushed in embarrassment, realising what he had been nestling into. He was still smiling though, however unsure that smile was, and she hoped that eventually he would open up to her. She had no doubt he would be back soon either; if what she suspected about his home life was true he would spend as much time as he could away from them. Smiling at the still embarrassed look on his face, she sat up slightly to see she was one of the last to wake, and the others who slept in the warehouse were packing up to do what they had to for the day, while the rest were looking at her and Harry with a fond yet solemn look on their faces, knowing that there was no acceptable reason for a child of his age to be sleeping with them in the middle of winter.

Seeing the sun's position in the sky, Harry jumped up and bounced on his feet slightly for a few seconds, seemingly in two minds about what to do, before settling for a small smile and then turning and bolting away towards the Dursleys house. He only hoped the Dursleys hadn't got back yet. If they came home and he wasn't there, he would be in serious trouble.

Oblivious to his thoughts, everyone turned to each other and waked amiably out of the warehouse, Harry being the focus of all their conversations. Olivia stayed still for a moment, lost in memories of when her sister would do the exact same thing after causing some sort of trouble. God she missed her.

~Scene Change~

Harry allowed the nervous tension to flow out of him as he leant back against the fence, his exhausted pants billowing out in front of him. The Dursleys weren't home yet, luckily. Now that he was able to relax, he started thinking about last night. It was much nicer than any other he had had since being sent here, that was for sure. No beatings, no shouting and no threats. They all seemed very nice, especially Olivia, and the look he had sent him after he had let slip that he had been locked out was sympathetic yet understanding, like she knew what it was like. He wondered if she did, and whether he would ever tell anyone about it. At this point, he doubted it.

It was the best night's sleep he'd had since arriving here as well, despite the fact it was on the floor in an abandoned warehouse. With the sleeping bag it was more comfortable than he was used to in his cupboard, and it was also much warmer. The Dursleys may always have the heating on during winter but there was no radiator in the cupboard under the stairs, so he was left to freeze with nothing but a thin blanket for warmth. Most nights he wore almost every item of clothing he had to stave off the cold and even then he shivered. He only wished he could have the pyjamas with heating charms from his trunk, but there was no way to get to it.

He decided that he would go there some more, and maybe he might talk to some of them. It would be nice to talk to someone, about anything. He keenly missed having people to talk to. Though, he realised, he didn't have a lot to talk about other than what happened at the Dursleys, but he wasn't ready for that yet. He knew he couldn't talk about magic, but maybe he could talk about Sirius and Nymmie if he was careful not to mention anything magical. Besides, it had been months so surely he would be going home soon, things must be safer by now, and then he wouldn't see Olivia again. For some reason he felt like he could trust her, much like how he felt with Sirius or Andi.

The low purr of Vernon's car announced the Dursleys return, and Harry mentally prepared himself for the inevitable return to the pain and loneliness that had by now become his normality. He wondered what his 'punishment' would be for this time.

~Scene Change~

A few days later, once the pain had faded to aches and his bruises were starting to lose their purple colour, Harry ventured back to the warehouse. It seemed the party hadn't gone well – Vernon had got drunk enough to have a loud and very public row with his immediate superior and had, from what Harry had worked out from his aunt's attempt at soothing words, said that he would be much better at the job than his boss was. Harry sincerely doubted Vernon would get that promotion he had been going on about now.

It was the afternoon so he wasn't sure if anyone would still be in the warehouse – he had seen them starting to leave as he left a few days before – but hopefully they would be. If they weren't he could just wait there for a while. It was starting to get dark, so he doubted he would be waiting very long anyway.

As he approached he could hear the low hum of conversation, the occasional crunch of broken glass underfoot breaking through the chatter. Harry suddenly felt unsure of himself as he picked his way through the discarded cans and smashed bottles and peeked around the doorway.

Out of the corner of her eye, Olivia saw a messy head of black hair peering around the rough brick and moulded wood of the doorway. She knew he would come back, she just hadn't been sure how quickly. She could see the slightly tender way he moved and wondered what the hell his home life must be like for him to be willing to walk through the rain and the cold while clearly in pain just to get away. Smiling at him and waving him over, she caught a glimpse of a still purple hand shaped bruise around his arm as his short sleeved shirt shifted as he moved, its vivid colour standing out against his pale skin. She doubted that was the worst injury on his body, and was both amazed and disgusted at how high his pain tolerance must be to move with so little change to his mobility.

"Welcome back little guy," she said, the warm smile still on her face. "I must have made a good impression then. We still need to introduce to the others though. Don't worry, you'll like them."

At Harry's slightly hesitant nod, she slowly walked him around everyone that was there and introduced them, leaning down every now and then to whisper a bit extra in his ear – that she could get almost any type of food they asked for if given time, the rumour that he had once dated an actress, that he could play the ukulele of all things. The further around they got, the more Harry emerged from behind his self-imposed walls and eventually he was talking and asking questions himself, though not animatedly.

The final person they got to was "Old Mary". She was the oldest person there at 68 years old, a full 50 years older than Olivia. In fact, Olivia was the youngest who stayed in the group all the time, although occasionally someone younger would stop there a few days on their way to London.

A kindly smile on her wrinkled face, she indulged the boy as he chirped questions at her. After a while he asked why she was there, before immediately looking contrite as he realised he might have asked something personal or painful. She had told him that her landlord had kicked her out last winter because she couldn't pay the rent, and he was suitably outraged at what had happened. It was one of the only times he showed his true age in a small outburst of disbelief.

"What was it like back then when you were little?" he had asked, and she had told him stories of her childish adventures running through the streets, the antics she had and the friends she had lost contact with over the years. He had sat enthralled, gasping as she had recounted her exaggerated or outright fictional tales of chaos and close calls.

She had always wanted a grandchild, but her son had never married and her daughter had died before she found the right person. She supposed this was what it would have been like; regaling them with stories of her life, hoping to entertain at the same time as teaching about the dangers and cruelties of the world. Harry didn't need to be taught about these things – clearly he had more than enough first-hand experience of them – but that didn't stop her hoping that maybe he would learn something from her.

The rest watched as Old Mary animatedly spoke of her life, and bright nostalgic gleam in her eyes. She always seemed content with her life, not happy with it but not upset about it either. But now, was happier than any of them had seen her and seemed years younger as the lines disappeared from her face. At that point, everyone decided the young boy sat attentively at her feet was quite special.

Several hours later Harry seemed to realise what time it was and jumped to his feet, sending both Olivia and Mary bright smiles and a called "Buh-Bye" before his previously comfortable expression melted into one of resignation and he turned and walked back towards Privet Drive. The Dursleys wouldn't care where he had been as long as he was there to cook dinner for them anyway.

Things there had started to plateau as far as the 'punishment' was concerned. He supposed there wasn't a whole lot more they could do without making it impossible for him to leave the house for a long time, or at least leaving some glaringly obvious physical signs. The pain wasn't as bad anymore, or maybe he was just used to it. He knew that wasn't the only reason though. When it happened he would concentrate on the endless blackness in his cupboard and the pain felt dimmed, as if happening in a memory. His mind was an empty void; every emotion and thought was sucked into the black hole. He knew it unnerved Vernon when he would make no sound throughout everything, the look on his face afterwards told him that - a mixture of unease and rage that the freak was silent. To Vernon's primitive mind, Harry was mocking him.

Eventually he would figure out a way to increase the pain, but he hadn't yet. Vernon was violent, aggressive and bigoted but, despite evidence to the contrary, he was not a stupid man.

~Scene Change~

Soon, the Christmas holidays were over and Harry didn't have much time to go and see Olivia and the others, instead spending his time hiding from Dudley and his goons. They seemed to have gained even more enthusiasm for bullying people over the break, and obviously Harry was their favourite target. As a result, he spent all the time he wasn't in class in the district library. It was far enough away that they hadn't been infected by the Dursley's lies and so they had no qualms about him spending his days there, reading about anything that took his fancy. History, myths, legends, magic, even a few about science.

He had continued to go to the warehouse as much as he could and had become friendly with everyone there, Olivia in particular. When he was there he would always make a beeline straight for her, before giving them a happy greeting and a genuine smile. For the first few minutes he would be almost completely oblivious to everyone else there, to the point where anyone else had to come over and stand right next to him for Harry to notice. He tended to come by every few days and always at least once a week, and to most he was now considered one of their little family. To Olivia he was already a…

If pressed, she honestly would have no idea how to describe what he was to her. It was a lot like how she had felt about her sister, yet different at the same time – The same protective nature, just magnified. The same constant concern, but this was a lot more intense and constant; if he didn't come back within three or four days, she would be on edge and panicky until he did. She supposed it was because with her sister she knew she had her mother and father looking out for her; with Harry, she was all he had.

A few weeks after Christmas Harry had started to open up slightly about his life. He never talked about where he lived now, she didn't even know their names, but he did talk a bit about his life before his parents had sent him there. He would chatter happily about his Godfather and his best friend, though his voice was always tinged with longing when he did. When she had asked why he wasn't with them, he had said that some bad people were after his family and they had sent him away so he could be safe. That was all he would say. She could tell that he was starting to lose hope though, starting to wonder whether that was the real reason.

It was the beginning of April and she was hoping he would soon start talking about his life now as well as the past. It wasn't healthy to keep everything bottled up inside, something she knew from experience. Maybe she would drop a few hints every now and then to encourage him. That would have to wait though, he had only visited yesterday so she wouldn't see him for a few days at the least. The Easter holidays had just started that day for him, so maybe she would get lucky and he would come sooner. She always looked forward to seeing him, this time she just had an extra mission.

After a week of Harry not coming, everyone was worried. Olivia, on the other hand, was starting to freak out. This was one of the longest periods he hadn't come, and it was the school holidays so he should have easily enough time. Had he gone on holiday or something and not told them? Had his parents come?

Later that night, the scratch of broken glass across the concrete brought everyone's eyes snapping to the doorway to see Harry shuffling around the corner, looking worse than they had ever seen him. His eyes were sunken and yellowed by fading bruises, his shoulders were slumped, he seemed to be dragging one leg slightly along the floor and he was cradling his left arm delicately with his right. He looked like hell.

Instantly everyone was on their feet and moving towards him, staying just far enough back not to crowd him too much. As they got closer they noticed the dried blood in his hair and between his fingers, the way his eyes were half open in exhaustion, and they all gasped in horror.

Olivia had gone straight up to him and frantically made to check him for injuries, stopping when he gritted his teeth in pain as soon as her fingers touched his back. Belatedly, she realised that she had tears running over her cheeks and rubbed her eyes to clear her vision.

"What happened?"

"He got really angry," The croaking voice Harry replied in was more suited to an old man on his death bed than a child 6 years of age, and as his eyes drooped and he went limp in her arms she pressed her fingers to his neck to ensure that the dirty concrete of an abandoned warehouse hadn't been his.

She let out a shuddery breath when she found a pulse, but when his back was finally revealed, everyone there paled. His back looked like a modern art painting with scars and welts criss-crossing across it, some faded and some recent and angry looking. There were thinner lines slashing across his pale skin, from what she wasn't even sure. Black rippled across his clearly defined ribs, the bruises faded into green in places. It was healing quickly though, some parts were in the final stages of healing already.

Olivia locked eyes with Anna, the girl who could get pretty much anything as she stared at Harry in abject horror.

"Go. Get everything you can get your hands on."

Nodding her head, Anna turned and ran towards the local pharmacy, leaving Harry unconscious leaned against Olivia's side.

~Scene Change~

Hissing as he woke, Harry tried to remember where he was. The last thing he remembered was stumbling out of Privet Drive. He only hoped Vernon wasn't so angry when he had to go back, he had been furious coming home from work a week before. Apparently he had been passed over for a promotion, which he seemed to think he deserved, and had been furious and, worse, drunk. The fact that the guy who had gotten the promotion had been Indian had nothing to do with it, of course, despite his slurred snarls against the "filthy foreigner". And Harry had been Vernon's target for his anger, and in his drunken state he was even worse than normal. After a while he had stopped, and Harry had thought it was over.

It wasn't.

Vernon had come back several minutes later with renewed enthusiasm and continued on for what felt like hours until his vision was starting to blur, and his last memory of that night was his head being smashed against the wall of his cupboard as he was launched in.

He had woken God knows how long after feeling like he had been forced through a blender. He had been hoping for another instance of miraculous overnight healing, but it hadn't happened. The next few days he had spent in constant pain and trying to remain as still as possible, all the while being assaulted by hunger and thirst. Eventually they had given him a couple bottles of water and a pack of crisps that had gone soft, and that had lasted him until they let him out. At the first available opportunity that day he had staggered out of the house to try and go to the warehouse, and after that everything has hazy.

The expected shoot of pain as he shifted slightly was less intense than anticipated, and he felt something soft wrapped around his entire upper body, stopping under his arms. Bandages? There was no way Petunia would have bothered with that. Was he in the hospital? He hoped not, they would ask questions and he knew that answering them would only make things worse. That had been made clear long ago. And who would have taken him there? Certainly not the Dursleys.

Cracking open his eyes slightly so as to still appear unconscious, the image of a familiar warehouse came into view. He exhaled slightly in relief. He was safe here. Everything was blurry so clearly he wasn't wearing his glasses, not that they did as much as they used to. Repeated blows to the head must have made his eyesight worse. Opening his eyes completely while still trying to face away from the glare of the sun, he felt his glasses carefully being pushed on as a sea of concerned faces came into view with Olivia in the forefront. It seemed to click then that everyone there knew, and he hated the swirl of fear and relief at that thought. Now, he didn't have to say it out loud, but everyone knew. Would they think of him differently?

"How are you feeling?"

"Okay. How long have I been here?"

"Just under a day, you looked terrible when you got here." At this, Harry tried to turn his head to avoid looking at them, but a gentle hand on his cheek turned him back.

"It's not your fault, Harry, so don't be ashamed of yourself for it. You're not alone little guy."

A small grin wormed its way onto his face at his nickname. She had called him that ever since that second time he came; it made him feel cared for. By now it had been nearly a year since he had been sent to the Dursleys and he hadn't seen anyone since he left. He was starting to stop believing that he was here for 'safety', especially considering what the Dursleys were like. But he didn't understand why they wouldn't want him. He had always been good. Even if his parents didn't want him, surely Sirius did. Was there something about him that made people not want him? Olivia proved that that wasn't true.

"Anna went and got us some medicine and some bandages, so you'll be good as new in a few days. You want to talk about it?"

"No."

He turned his head away from them and refused to meet any of their eyes, and she knew she shouldn't push him.

"Okay, well as soon as you do, come find me alright?"

At his nod she relented and allowed him a little peace, he already looked tired. While she wanted him to talk about it and not bury everything, pushing him would do more harm than good. He needed to trust someone again.

As the crowd around him dispersed, one man hung back. Malcolm was a tall and well-muscled man, who looked in shape despite living on the streets. He was ex-army, and a burn scar could be seen extending down his right arm to just above a tattoo of a skull that was visible against his dark skin.

"Hey kid, give it a few months and, if you're interested, I'll teach you a little hand to hand combat as long as you promise not to use it for anything other than self-defence. Obviously we will be pretty limited because of your age, but no one should feel completely defenceless." A devious smirk appeared on his face, "That is, if it's alright with your- if that's alright with Olivia…"

While Harry looked slightly confused, Olivia glared at Malcolm, though it did nothing to diminish the twinkle in his eyes, nor the slight smile on her face. When Harry wasn't around the others would mercilessly tease her, calling her "mummy Liv". While she acted slightly irritated when they did it, it was obvious it was just an act. She couldn't deny the slight warmth in her chest when she heard it.

"You go ahead, Malcolm."

With a final joking wink, Malcolm wandered off towards the rest, leaving Harry with his head contentedly leaned against Olivia's shoulder and her hand running through his hair absentmindedly, his eyes already drooping.

Later that afternoon when Harry woke up, he forced himself to his feet and with a momentary tight hug around Olivia's waist, left to return to the Dursleys. If he was lucky they wouldn't have noticed he had even left.

Olivia and the others watched him leave, hating letting him go back there now that they knew what happened there, but didn't have a lot of choice. With that level of abuse it was obvious to anyone who didn't actively ignore it so the fact he was still there was telling. And besides, none of them had any trust in anyone but themselves. The police were not their friends. The paramedics were not their friends. Any authority was not a friend. It was almost a given that humans would take advantage of those they had power over, and they had far less power than most. Malcolm had been told he would get a pension when he discharged from the army. He had never got it, and so he was here. They only had themselves.

The parting hug he had given Olivia made it even harder. Harry never initiated physical contact in all the months they had known him. At first he would flinch whenever someone came close, never mind of they actually touched him. For him to actually hug someone was big. The brief contact showed how unsure he was about doing it, but the constricting tightness practically screamed how starved of affectionate human contact he was, and just how desperate he was for it.