Version 1
Unedited: January 5th, 2022
Chapter's Song:
Between the Bars by Elliott Smith
Chapter One:
Reminiscing
England is well known for its dreary weather. Tonight was no exception.
The ominous thunder soon followed the strike as a war cry sounded out through the small town. It was as if the gods were fighting among each other in Asgard in a cacophony of chaos.
Lightning cracked; as if Thor had descended from the heavens and struck out at England with his hammer- where the huge fork of light split the sky; but for a brief second, it was as if everything in time had stopped. Before the initial deafening staccato of thunder subsided into the background, and time had resumed.
Noise pelted the vintage glass of the window that was covered with rusted bars as it vibrated with the arrows shot from the Valkyries bow from above.
But in that brief flash of light could be seen a small unassuming figure shivering on the ground, attempting to burrow deeper into the rumpled dirty blankets that lie on the cold unforgiving floor.
Privet Drive was a normal neighborhood full of everyday people. All who own the same two storied home full of the same typical white three-bedroom suburban theme.
So what made this neighborhood different?
Another strike of lightning appeared in the sky revealing the figure once again before a mighty roar of thunder followed suit.
It was the residents. Or more specifically one that really stood out. His name is Harry Potter, the current resident of number 4 Privet Drive, along with his family, the Dursleys; and the same one who was stuck behind the bars of this prison.
Harry could still faintly remember when he was young; he was a child who longed for recognition and love from his family. And just like any other his age, he craved for the affection and love his aunt and uncle abundantly shower upon their son. Despite his ungrateful behavior, Dudley still got everything. Once, Harry even decided to act like Dudley to gain the same love and affection as his dear cousin. That ended as badly as the time he tried to question his uncle about the neighborhood.
He had asked his Uncle Vernon why all the houses had looked the same. He saw that if he asked questions in class, the more his teacher would encourage it. So if he did the same to Uncle Vernon, maybe he would see that Harry wasn't a bad boy. But Harry had learned quickly that day that his assumption was in fact, very, very wrong through the loving fists of his dear cousin, Dudley. He learned to never ask questions after that.
And as the years went by, Harry had realized the Dursleys didn't hate him because he was a bad boy. They hated him because Harry was different.
Harry was a freak.
And just like any other freak, Harry received a different reaction. Instead of his uncle looking at him with kind eyes and a patient smile, his young eyes were graced with a vicious sneer and a sharp retort that they were "executive houses for executive people".
Executive people his ass.
Ever since he could remember, Harry knew he was smarter than his peers. And he didn't say that because he was arrogant but because it was a fact. The simple truth was Harry was smarter than his peers. By quite a margin too. His attentiveness in class as well as his quickly growing curiosity for understanding the things around him had caused him to gain the attention of many teachers at his school.
Which included his aunt and uncle as well.
They weren't pleased by how the freak was better than their Duddikins, but there was nothing they could do. They had tried to convince the teachers that Harry was nothing but a low life delinquent out to cause trouble but their lies were tuned out in favor of the prodigy.
It wasn't everyday you see a student like Harry.
Because of this sudden influx of attention to the family, concessions had to be made to appear as though they were a big happy family. And after a subtle inquiry from Harry's homeroom teacher about Harry's small stature and ragged clothes, it was quickly (but silently) agreed on by both parties to appear as proud and loving adoptive parents.
Because for as much as they hated the freak, they loved their reputation more.
With school starting, Harry thought that things would be different. That he would have more friends than the spiders in his hair. But even the kids at school were just as cruel.
No thanks to Dudders, that is.
Harry burrowed deeper into the blankets, coughing up some blood.
Something had pissed off Uncle Vernon.
It was a couple of weeks in that Harry had all lost hope for some sort of refuge in this desolate cell.
Because it was exactly that. A cell.
He was a prisoner in his own home.
But as the lightning outside flickered once more he realized.
This wasn't home.
At least, not to Harry. He didn't feel safe in this home. He wasn't happy at home. He didn't feel the warmth and comfort that the word was associated with, only the dread and longing to escape. While it may not be the everyday eight by six foot room with a metal bed tray, a sink and a toilet…it wasn't luxury by any means. Harry didn't even get to have the luxuries rapists and murderers got in prison. He didn't have a toilet or sink. He had a bucket in the corner.
He didn't get to have three meals a day. He'd be lucky to get one a week, not including the scraps he manages to sneak while doing the dishes. He didn't get to go outside and exercise. Harry wasn't even allowed to talk to people.
And all he could tell himself when in the darkest moments when he thought about ending it all was that it was better than nothing. That his sister would come and pick him up with Dumblefuck on his birthday. That soon, he would be free.
Or as free as he can be with Dumblefuck and Voldemort running about.
As Harry fell deeper into his thoughts, he thought about how nobody in the wizarding world didn't notice the obvious signs of abuse. But, who would look for it? He's the Boy-Who-Lived. There were supposed biographies about how he lived in a castle and fought dragons on a daily basis. Nobody would want to believe their Savior was abused, so why would they look for it? But then again, the Dursley's weren't so noticeable with the abuse. Until this year.
Normally, Harry would at least get to use the bathroom and shower for 15 mins at the end of the day. He'd be able to sneak food in while cooking the Dursley's meals. Sure, he'd have a lot of chores to do but at least he was outside. At least he was alive.
But Uncle Vernon didn't forget what he did to Aunt Marge.
Harry snorted, causing a sharp pain to bite his side as he attempted to even his breathing. Curling up within himself he clutched he assumed-at worst- was a broken rib with a whimper.
Harry had learned from Kurama that there were four types of neglect. Physical, medical, educational, and emotional.
Physical Neglect. The failure to provide necessary food, clothing, and shelter; inappropriate or lack of supervision.
Medical Neglect. The failure to provide necessary medical or mental health treatment.
Educational Neglect. The failure to educate a child or to provide for special education needs.
Emotional Neglect. The failure to meet a child's emotional needs and provide psychosocial support, or permitting the child to use alcohol or other drugs.
Harry flinched at the sudden noise of thunder as he was momentarily broken from his reverie. Looking around himself, he had to ask himself if that meant the Dursleys abused Dudley as well? Because Dudley was always eating. He's dumber than a rock and his obesity is close to the point of becoming a diabetic at best.
That thought caused a memory to appear in his mind's eye. How Hermione had once said that his guardians were unfit parents once she confronted him at the end of their first year when she saw how scared he was to go back home.
Hugging him close, Hermione explained that his situation was in fact, not okay. "The legal definition of an unfit parent is when the parent, through their conduct fails to provide proper guidance, care, or support. Also, if there is abuse, neglect, or substance abuse issues, that parent will be deemed unfit." She said with angry tears in her eyes as she watched her best friend break down before her for the first time.
The pang of longing hit his heart as he thought about his sister. He couldn't tell her what the Dursley's had done. She would kill them. Quite literally. Her blind respect towards authority figures had broken that day.
While Hermione Granger may be a bookworm, she was certainly, without a doubt, a formidable witch.
And that's why he believed her when she said she would get him out of there once she heard how Dumbledore kept sending him back .
He could only wonder how she would react to Dudley. Would she pity him? Hate him? Because with what she said, does that mean Dudley was like him too?
Did Dudley feel bad about treating Harry the way he did? Harry could still remember the one kind young chubby blond that would play with Harry. It was the first and last time he'd ever seen his Aunt Petunia lay a hand on Dudley.
Since then, Dudley has never played with Harry as a friend. The next time he played with Harry, "Harry Hunting" became a regular game.
And it wouldn't have happened if Dudley had learned there were consequences to his actions. If Dudley had known better, he would have treated Harry better like he did all those moons ago. If Dudley had better parents, then Dudley would have been a better person.
Harry's eyes stared off into the distance, unseeing as the rain continued to pelt the window with vengeance.
The rain reminded him of Naruto.
