Warnings: Abusive!Dursleys, noncon!, manipulative!Dumbledore, smart!Harry

The Boy

Ever since he had returned from his first year at Hogwarts, Harry Potter had helped the neighborhood kids on Privet Drive. Well, technically, he'd been helping as best he could well before that, but it was only after Hogwarts that he had both the skills and the self-confidence to truly keep them safe. He taught self-defense lessons, lent an ear when someone needed to talk, and did everything in his power to protect them from bullies, especially Dudley and his gang, including, when necessary, letting them beat him up in return for letting the other kid go. He also had a "First Aid Station" set up in the Dursleys' garden shed, where all the kids knew they were welcome if they needed him. Of course, this "heroism" didn't come without a price, as Dudley hated to be made a fool of and had no compunctions about complaining to his parents when Harry interfered with his "fun", but Harry was quite willing to accept punishment as long as the younger kids, who he considered his responsibility, stayed safe, particularly this summer.

The fiasco at the Ministry, had left Harry overcome with guilt. He blamed himself for the death of both his godfather and the headmaster, both of whom had been incredibly dear to him. Because of this, he was prepared to view anything the Dursleys doled out as just punishment for his stupidity -- after all, neither Sirius nor Dumbledore would have been at the Ministry if it weren't for his "saving people complex", as Hermione called it.

If anyone had bothered to look deeper, however, they would have discovered that Harry's self-martyrdom had causes that ran far deeper and extended much further back than anyone would have guessed. From the time he was two years old, his relatives had treated him as worthless, nothing more than a burden both to them and to society in general. He was, according to them, a freak who didn't deserve even the basest human necessities and he had never truly experienced anything to the contrary. Even after he'd entered the wizarding world, he found that he was still a "freak" who was vastly different from ordinary people, a topic of gossip (both complimentary and defamatory), a symbol for the Light, a tool to be used to save the world and nothing more. Going from the Dursleys, where he was regarded as filth, to the wizarding world, where he was regarded as a hero and savior, had indeed been a shock and had balanced out some of his insecurities (for instance, he now knew that he was powerful and could actually do things to assist other people), but it merely reinforced the notion that had been ingrained in him since childhood: he existed to be used, his life did not matter in the long run and his own thoughts and feelings were inconsequential. Because of this, he had no qualms about sacrificing himself for the good of others.

Naturally, all that was buried deep in his subconscious, and Harry didn't fully understand it or even acknowledge it -- it was simply who he was. And since no one had ever bothered to look deeper at the reasons he did what he did, no one else understood or acknowledged it either.

While Harry was making breakfast, the boy awoke facedown on an unfamiliar lawn. Where am I? he wondered. He tried to look around, but a shooting pain down his neck quickly brought the darkness around him again.

About a half an hour later, a high-pitched screech rent the quiet air around number 4 Privet Drive.

"BOY! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" A crash sounded from the kitchen, followed by a grunt of pain.

Should've known I couldn't sneak any food, Harry thought, grimacing as he attempted to ignore the throbbing pain in his head where his aunt had hit him with the frying pan. He reached back slowly to touch it and wasn't surprised when his hand came away red with blood. Shoot.

"Get out of the kitchen, freak. And don't expect any food today, either. Not after this attempted thievery!" his aunt sneered as she slapped him painfully across the face.

He sighed inwardly, then turned and headed out to the garden.

"And if that garden's not finished in two hours, there'll be hell to pay!"

Harry quickly stuffed the pain deep into his mind until he could no longer feel it as he walked toward the shed to gather the gardening equipment. As he passed the corner of the house, however, he saw something out of place.

What's a shoe doing on the Dursleys' lawn? He walked swiftly over to the shoe, forgetting his earlier determination to let nothing distract him. As he turned the corner, though, he gasped.

Lying there, next to the house, was a small child, clearly unconscious.

He bent down to examine the boy and felt his heart constrict in his chest. There was a deep gash across the boy's face and his clothes were torn and bloodied. Oh, Merlin. What in the world am I supposed to do now? The Dursleys can't find out about this, but he obviously needs help…

Quickly making a decision, Harry got up and entered the shed, where he pulled the old camping cot out of the corner. He'd moved the cot to the shed after the Dursleys had put it out with the trash several years ago and it had come in handy whenever one of the neighborhood kids was really hurt and couldn't leave right away. Okay, now all I have to do is get him in here and then the Dursleys will never find out. They won't come in here, and I can help the poor kid. I wonder who he is...he can't be from around here -- I know all the kids in the neighborhood and I haven't heard about any new neighbors...

He grabbed the gardening tools on his way out and dropped them off next to the patch he was supposed to be weeding before heading back to the unconscious child.

"Okay, big guy, I'm just going to move you to a safer spot, okay?" he murmured quietly as he stooped to pick up the boy. "I'm really sorry if this hurts, but the Dursleys can't find you or they'd have a fit. Another unwanted kid left on their doorstep?! You definitely don't want them to find out."

The child remained unconscious as Harry gently set him on the mattress.

"Okay, I'll be back soon," Harry promised as he slipped out the door again.

The next time the boy woke up, he found himself lying under a blanket in semi-darkness. He blinked in confusion as he tried to figure out where he was. How did I get here? I don't remember anything…

A quiet cough made him jump as he tried to turn towards the noise.

"Hey now, it's alright. You're safe. But you probably don't want to twist yourself around like that -- your neck is pretty messed up." A teenaged boy with messy dark hair and glasses stepped into his line of vision. "I'm Harry," the new boy said, smiling. "What's your name?"

The boy frowned. What is my name? Jeez, I don't even know who I am! This is not a good sign. "Umm…"

Seeing his hesitation, Harry cut in, "If you don't want to tell me, that's fine. I just don't want to be calling you 'kid' all the time, you know?"

"No, no, that's not it, it's just…I can't remember," the boy said, distress evident in his voice.

"Oh, well, that's not too surprising, I guess. It looks like you knocked your head pretty badly. So how about we pick a name?"

The boy nodded, but stopped at the pain the motion caused. "That'd be fine."

"Hmm, okay then. You could be Peter…or Andy? …No? Uh, how about…Matt? Chris? Aaron? Sam?"

The boy grimaced. "I don't really like any of those."

"Would an older name be better? Maybe Romulus? Or Anthony? Brutus? Goodness, I'm not very good at this, am I?" Harry laughed.

"Alright. How about Lukas? Zaccheus? Or maybe Lysander? Perhaps Dominik?"

"I think I like Lysander," the boy said with a small smile.

"I like it too," Harry replied, grinning. "Lysander it is, then. Ly for short. So, now that we've got your name out of the way, how about drinking some of this? It's medicine…it tastes terrible, but it'll help you feel better, I promise."

"Okay," Ly said reluctantly as Harry helped him down the potion. A few seconds later, Ly sighed with relief. "Wow, that really does make it better!"

"Yeah, it's like magic, right?" Harry smirked.

Harry was worried. After he had originally put Ly in the shed, he had gone out to work some more on the garden, but he just wasn't able to keep his mind on the task. Every ten minutes or so, he'd go check on the still unconscious boy. When his aunt had left to go to tea, he had snuck back into the house and found a blanket for him. He also snuck into the kitchen and had taken a bit of food for the boy to eat when he got hungry. Harry's stomach had tightened painfully, protesting the four days he'd been without food himself, but the boy was more important and he couldn't risk stealing any more than he had or Aunt Petunia would notice.

Ly's injuries were pretty bad. Besides the cut on his face, he had a bruised rib, a sprained wrist, numerous cuts and bruises on his torso, and neck strain and stiffness, which appeared to have radiated to his back as well. But that wasn't Harry's biggest worry. Ly's apparent memory loss was a much bigger problem, one Harry couldn't fix with potions or bedrest.


Oh well, he sighed inwardly, as he continued to weed the garden. I guess we'll just deal with it as it comes. But in the meantime --

He was startled out of his introspection, however, by the sound of a car pulling into the drive.

Oh crud! I'm not finished with the gardening, and it's been over 3 hours since I started. Oh Merlin, Aunt Petunia's going to kill me!

Moments later, Harry found himself being dragged into the house behind a livid Petunia.

"You insolent, ungrateful, lazy THING!" Each furious word was punctuated with a slap. "You were to be DONE with that garden over an HOUR ago! Just you wait 'til Vernon gets home. He'll show you!" And with that, she shoved him into the stair rail and stalked into the living room, leaving Harry lying dizzily on the floor.

"Now get out there and finish, you lazy brat! I have a list for you once you're done!"

Harry stumbled back outside and hurriedly finished the garden. When he walked into the shed to put the tools away, he was greeted by Lysander, who gazed up at him, a slight frown on his face.

"Harry?" he queried softly.

"What's up, Ly?" Harry asked amiably, smiling at him despite the lingering pain from his earlier meeting with the frying pan, which had returned full force after Petunia's manhandling.

Ly's eyes had widened at the sight of his face, which was still red with Aunt Petunia's handprints.

"Uh…I, uh…well, I was going to ask…but…what happened to your face?" Ly stammered.

"My face?" Harry repeated, his hand automatically flying up to his cheek. He winced at the contact. "Oh. It's, uh, it's nothing to worry about. Just some...some sunburn," he stammered.

It was obvious Ly didn't believe him, so he changed the subject quickly.

"What were you going to ask?" he questioned.

"Oh, uh, well, I was just kind of hungry, so I wondered--"

"Merlin, I'm sorry! I totally forgot. Here, I brought you some lunch." Harry reached for the food he'd nicked earlier, ignoring the protests of his own stomach as he handed it over.

"Thanks," Ly smiled slightly.

"Not a problem. Oh, I should probably tell you…I don't know when I'll be able to get out here again today. My aunt is, uh, obsessed with cleaning and stuff, so I don't know when she'll let me get away, but I'm putting this medicine next to you so you can take it if you need to. It's a pain reliever. Just make sure you stay in bed, alright? Your body's not ready for you to be walking around yet."

"Okay, will do."

"Good. See you later, Ly," Harry responded as he walked back toward the house.

Harry spent the rest of the day attempting to complete his incredibly long list of chores, which included cleaning the kitchen, tidying up Dudley's room, vacuuming the living room carpet, dusting the shelves, organizing boxes in the attic, and scrubbing down the bathroom, among other things. The only blessing was that Dudley's gang hadn't gotten ahold of any of his other charges, so he didn't have to stop working to take care of them. Still, by the time Vernon got home, Harry's muscles were aching, his head was pounding and he still had quite a few more items on the list. Aunt Petunia was supremely unhappy with him, and hovered behind him the entire time he was making dinner to make sure he didn't try to eat any again. This made Harry's clenched stomach protest all the more, and Harry found his mouth watering and his vision blurring. He blinked rapidly to try and clear his head, but his pain and the delicious scents from the food he was cooking assaulted him mercilessly, until he couldn't stand it any more.

"Please, Aunt Petunia, I can't…" But that was all he could get out before his uncle, having heard his voice, charged into the room.

"BOY!" he yelled "Don't you DARE go making demands of my wife, you twisted little freak! Petunia's already told me how lazy you've been today, boy, and I WON'T STAND FOR IT!!!"

Uncle Vernon's ringed finger colliding with his already tender cheek was the last thing Harry felt before he blacked out.