A/N1: We finally get to meet Reggie and Sala, though it's obvious they've been there awhile. In the coming chapters, it will be shown how they got there.

A/N2: I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! It ended up WAY longer than I expected. I hope I did it justice.

For those of you who didn't see in chapter 3, I edited the first chapter for clarification. If you are interested, you can go back to read it.

See more notes at the end of the chapter!

June 17th, 1988

The feel of a soft breeze passed over the face of a dark-haired boy, and as the sound of sobs filtered through his subconscious, Harry Potter realised it was coming from him. Immediately, he stopped. Crying was unforgivable, according to the Dursleys, and remembering his last interaction with them, he wanted to avoid any more confrontations for the foreseeable future.

When he finally opened his eyes, Harry quickly realised that he was not, in fact, by the Dursleys. Shrinking in on himself, Harry looked up to see the sun high in the sky and the blurry faces of people looking down on him.

"What are you children looking at?" the sound of an elderly women's voice drifted to his senses, causing Harry to struggle in a flash of irrational fear.

"A lil' boy, ma'am." The voice of another waved through Harry.

"Oh, my dear…."

The woman reached down into his cage of a box and pulled him out. "There's dried blood all over him…"

"Why don't I carry him, ma'am." Yet another voice interrupted; the immature sound made Harry wonder if it was a girl or a boy.

"No, Reggie dear. You're too small to carry him; why don't you open the door for me instead."

Harry attempted to thrash and kick away from these people, but his arms and legs refused to work; only the feeling of pins and needles greeted him as his blood began to flow normally again. The woman holding him was much stronger than she looked and didn't seem bothered by his meagre pushes. It likely tickled her rather than hurt. The chatter of kids whispering started again, but it only made Harry feel worse. What was the point of his being surrounded by people if he was always betrayed? An animal wouldn't have done this to him. Feeling too tired to keep fighting, Harry stopped struggling and instead used his working senses to try and figure out where he was. The woman was carrying him bridal style, and without his glasses, Harry could barely make out any features on her, let alone a sign that might point him in the right direction. Resigned to wait until he was told, Harry allowed himself to go limp, as moving caused him anguish beyond anything he had ever experienced, and he wondered why it hurt him now more than it had when his beating had first occurred. He could also feel his stomach emptier than usual and tried to remember the last time he had eaten. As if proving his point, his stomach growled so loudly he blushed.

"Sala, why don't you help Reggie and bring him to the bath while I get some supplies to clean him up? It seems like he might need more professional care. And some food; he's emaciated."

Before anyone could have expected it, Harry forced himself out of the woman's arms and fell to the floor, crying out in pain as his body trembled from the aftereffects. It felt like every bruise on his body woke again and flared to life. Though, Harry thought in slight wonder that the sound he made falling and his cousin's sound were entirely on different spectrums. But this was an emergency, and he didn't want to be killed after surviving his crazy Uncle.

"No!" his voice stuttered when the boys reached for him, likely to bring him to the bath Mrs Hacker had spoken about. Inches from his arm, they both froze.

"He speaks," the third voice that the woman had called Sala spoke up, his voice tinged with amusement.

"What's wrong, dear?" the woman asked, crouching down to his level and shooing away the attempts at the others to touch him again.

Overwhelmed, Harry burst into tears despite trying to push down the water in his eyes. "Please! I don't want a bath. I'll be good, I swear. I'll never do anything wrong again."

"Maybe a psychiatrist, too." he heard Reggie mutter.

The woman shushed him and asked, "Why don't you want a bath, dear?"

In a very small voice that he was sure he could hide from the two boys, he said, "I didn't want to be pushed under the water and held there."

Harry heard a sharp intake of breath, which could have been for any reason, but the angry murmurs made him think it was for his benefit.

"Here's a blanket, Mrs Hacker." Yet another voice sang softly from his left. How many kids were here?

"Thank you, why don't all you boys go play? It will be lunchtime soon."

Mrs Hacker wrapped the blanket around his shaking figure, which was so soft he snuggled into it as if it were a hug.

"How about I just wash your face then, sunshine?" She asked softly, and glancing around uncertainly, he nodded.

"M-my glasses?" Harry asked, hopefully feeling way too vulnerable being unable to see.

"It…" Mrs Hacker hesitated.

"It's broken." Sala put in helpfully, his lithe frame leaning against the doorframe with what was likely Reggie right next to him.

"Boys!" Mrs Hacker admonished exasperatedly.

"Why don't we wash his face and then take a trip to the glasses store and get it for him?" Reggie suggested, and with a look to Harry, Mrs Hacker agreed.

"Does that sound good?" Mrs Hacker asked him, and for a moment, Harry just stared at her. It had never occurred to him that his opinion mattered.

"I…" He gulped, looking at all three of them uncertainly. "I get a choice?"

Mrs Hacker appeared scandalised. "Of course!"

"Alright."

"Good boy," Mrs Hacker said fondly, and for a reason that Harry couldn't understand, his eyes filled with tears again, but he pushed them back, unwilling to fully cry in front of his peers. Again.

He furiously ignored the lump in his throat and closed his eyes instead.

"Alright, dear. I will put a washcloth against your face, alright?"

Harry nodded, keeping his eyes clenched shut. "It will be warm a bit, but it shouldn't hurt. Tell me if it hurts at any point, and I will stop."

Biting his lip, the young boy kept still as the first feel of warm water passed over his eyes. She was gentle, and the lump in his throat increased.

"Why don't you boys go and get ready if you want to come on the trip." Mrs Hacker instructed them, and they knew she wasn't asking because they scampered.

"Now," the woman murmured as she meticulously wiped the blood off his face, hair and neck. "What's your name?"

"I-" Harry paused and thought it over. His scar and name were obviously hated if the reaction his Uncle and Aunt constantly had were any indication, so telling someone who didn't know was probably a terrible idea. "I don't know," he said instead, feeling shameful for lying but not knowing what to say otherwise. "I don't remember…I think I hit my head really hard."

Harry hadn't got to see himself, but with his forehead pulsing angrily, he didn't think anyone would recognise him; he doubted he looked the way he had before the attack. Regardless, he didn't dare touch where he could feel the cuts still slightly oozing, though they had mostly solidified.

Mrs Hacker frowned and lifted her hand to bite her nails thoughtfully, but at the action, Harry recoiled away from her. "Oh, honey…I'm sorry, it's alright, it's okay…" Harry's shaking had started again, his hands over his head to protect himself. "No, it's okay; I'll never hit you. Never." Harry was startled when he saw tears in her eyes with how close she was and realised with a start that she was telling the truth. Though it took him a few minutes, he lowered his arms again and found that he appreciated the woman not rushing him or raising her voice. Finally calm, Harry looked back up at her. "I'm sorry," he whispered miserably.

"It's alright, now," Mrs Hacker hummed at him, "I'm going to finish washing your face now, alright?" Harry gave a curt nod, closing his eyes, though this time for comfort. Gently, Mrs Hacker refreshed the cloth and continued cleaning the blood off. "How about Christopher? Christopher James." Mrs Hacker missed the slight widening of his eyes, and by the time she glanced back at him, he had cleared the expression from his face. "It's the same as my son; he passed away last year. I think it fits you."

Harry just stared at her, stunned into silence. Not willing to be disrespectful, he gave her a cheeky thumbs up and backed it up with a smile he didn't feel.

"Ah, Sala, Reggie, welcome back. This here is Christopher James, and he will be your third roomie."

"Okay, Topher."

"Sounds good, Tophy."

Mrs Hacker rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "I need to medicate this and maybe speak to someone about fixing it." the woman announced, gesturing to his mangled forehead. "In the meantime…" Gently, she put on some creams, then wrapped a colourful scarf around his head. "This way, no one will stare, alright?"

Harry found it ironic that such a thing would be an issue, as when, the few times he had gone out with his Aunt Petunia and Dudley, people had clamoured to him to greet him. She hadn't been happy.

"Alright," he responded quietly.

"Okay, come on, baby," she cooed, lifting him into her arms like an infant, but Harry found he couldn't complain. Despite the love he received being given freely by someone he didn't know, the feeling of being cared for pressed into him with such strength that he sniffled.

The trip to the store didn't last long; MrsHacker took care of everything, allowing Harry to pick the frames he liked and making sure he was able to see; she was shocked when she found out that his original prescription had never been updated, and even with his original glasses, Harry had practically been blind. While searching for something extraordinary - Harry chose nice round-rimmed spectacles that looked great on his face - Reggie and Sala ran around chasing each other like the little boys they were.

When he finally got to put his new glasses on, he called them to him and was surprised when they obliged. Taking in their faces properly, he noted that Sala and Reggie had dark hair like him. Sala's eyes were as dark as his hair. Ebony, his mind provided from the book of colours he had read in the school library. The boy's curls danced around his face, though it was nice, nothing like the mop he had on his own head. His eyes then moved to Reggie, who stood stock still as Harry took him in. The grey eyes were eerily serene, both soft and sharp simultaneously, and for a second, Harry forgot he was looking at a child. Harry felt like he was drowning in pools of mercury. When Reggie blinked and moved, he noticed that his eyes had changed from mercury grey to molten silver. Before he could stop himself, he said, "I like your eyes." From his time being forced to stay quiet, the young Potter had learnt some observations. From it, he realised people's different levels of wisdom, and Reggie's eyes were full of it.

"Not fair!" Sala whined, stamping his foot. "What about my eyes."

"They look like you'd swallow my soul if I looked for too long," Harry said, grinning. The two were also eyeing him with a keen interest and no malice. "Thanks," they both said at the same time.

"Are you guys twins?" Harry asked, suddenly wondering if he was missing something. They sure acted as if they had twin telepathy."

"If we're twins, you'd make us triplets," Reggie said matter-of-factly.

When he finally took in Mrs Hacker after the boys had returned to play, he felt his eyes water again. She had warm brown eyes, salt and pepper coloured hair styled curly above her head, and a smile so gentle and welcoming Harry immediately loved her.

She stroked his cheek, and the small boy immediately turned his face to meet it.

"I've already spoken to someone, Chrissy dear. I've put in a request to the higher-ups for someone to look at and fix your forehead."

Harry didn't bother telling her his original scar had been there for a long time, nor how he had got his new one, though he had a feeling with how she looked at him, a mix of pity, sorrow and love, that she knew.

They walked back to the orphanage, which was apparently where his uncle had dropped him off, and Harry finally could read the sign with his new, fantastic glasses. Littlest Angels Orphan Home.

The question made him wonder if his time there was limited. "Do we get kicked out when we're not little anymore?" Harry asked, unable to keep the heartbroken note from his voice.

"Of course not, sweetie." Mrs Hacker told him, reaching for his hand, which he gave. "No one will ever send you away again."

The group stayed quiet all the way upstairs until they reached the room Harry would stay in with Sala and Reggie. It was nicely furnished, with three beds, desks, dressers, and a bathroom with a bathtub and shower connected. It was clean and had a homey feeling missing from his Aunt's house.

"For now, why don't the three of you get some sleep? It's been a long day."

She was correct; the sun had set while they went home. "I've requested some sandwiches, so why don't you get ready for bed, and you can eat something and then sleep? Tomorrow morning everyone can have a nice hot breakfast."

"Everyone gets fed?" Harry couldn't help but ask, his stomach growling again as he had refused to eat earlier, except for a small piece of chocolate Sala had given him to cheer up.

"Yes, honey, everyone gets to eat." Mrs Hacker didn't even seem surprised by his questions anymore.

"So, get ready for bed now!" she said again, tapping her cane on the floor. Harry wondered when she had taken it, as she didn't seem to have needed it earlier when she carried him. Perhaps her bones and joints hurt more as the night came in.

"Yes, Mrs Hacker!" Reggie and Sala chorused together before going to the bathroom to wash up for the night. Harry could hear the sink running and wondered if they were brushing their teeth. Self-care was not on the list of priorities for his aunt, at least when it came to him, so he had never learned how to care for himself properly. The only time they washed him was to push his head under the water in the tub as a punishment. Somehow though, he never was dirty. Perhaps it was just another thing that added to his freakishness.

Harry slowly made his way to the bathroom, clutching the set of PJs Reggie had kindly given him. Even though they were the same age (according to Mrs Hacker), he was grossly smaller than the other two. Apparently, Reggie had grown out of it when he was six.

Patiently waiting for his new "roomies" to finish, Harry leaned against the door in a similar fashion to Sala's pose from earlier. They left, and he entered, using the new toothbrush Mrs Hacker had given him to brush his teeth. Unlike his Aunt, Mrs Hacker had carefully dressed and medicated the gash that had reopened after his hospital visit and warned off every single boy and girl there from playing with him too roughly.

The food arrived before Mrs Hacker did, by an older-looking girl, and she smiled at them before leaving again. Sala and Reggie munched on the sandwiches, and despite there being enough food for all of them to have doubles, he ate slowly, afraid that it would vanish from his hands if he dared to stuff his mouth. It would be something his Aunt did, though usually, if he didn't eat fast, Dudley would have taken all the food. This left him with a considerable dilemma, and his paranoia had him clutching the sandwich so tightly that it broke apart in his hands, falling everywhere.

"I'm sorry! I'll clean it! I'm sorry!" Harry shouted, rushing to the bathroom to find a cloth of the same variety his Aunt usually made him use, and panicked when he couldn't find one. Hyperventilating, Harry opened and closed all the drawers in the bathroom but still could not find anything. Suddenly, arms were around him, holding him from behind, and he automatically struggled.

"Stop." A voice whispered in his ear. It was Reggie. The boy was tall for his age, and when he turned Harry around and pressed him against his chest, Harry could hear the other's heartbeat as it thumped rapidly. "Calm now," he murmured, his voice so soft, it could barely be heard. With one of his hands, Reggie slowly carded his fingers through the smaller boy's hair until Harry's tension fell away, and he half collapsed against the other boy.

Harry felt his tears come again, engulfed with so many varying emotions he couldn't pinpoint one of them. If Reggie felt the way his PJ top was getting wet from his tears, he didn't say so. When Harry calmed, he extracted himself from the other's arms and looked away bashfully.

"Do you know how to brush your teeth?" Reggie asked him.

"I've got an idea," Harry responded, though not confidently. After all, he had learnt his information from books.

"I can show you."

"But you already brushed."

"How about we do it again after eating so you can see? Sala will do it again, too, won't you, stinky sod?"

Harry could practically feel the eye-roll with Sala's tone, but the boy agreed nonetheless.

By the time they had got out of the bathroom, someone had already cleaned the mess, and for a wild moment, Harry wondered if it had been Sala, but the boy appeared unruffled, looking prim and proper even as he ate an apple at his desk.

After what felt like moments later, the three returned to the bathroom, and Reggie and Sala brushed their teeth again.

"Like this, see?" Reggie instructed, rubbing his teeth with the brush in a circular motion.

"Rubby rubby scrubby." Sala agreed.

Harry imitated them, pleased when he could feel his mouth's cleanness.

"Thanks, guys."

They both gave him huge smiles and went to their beds.

Mrs Hacker returned just as they were covering themselves with their blankets. She went to Harry first and tucked him in, kissing him on his cheek, as his forehead was covered with bandages and the scarf he never took off. When she was done, she tucked Reggie and Sala into bed as well, despite their arguments that they were old enough to do it alone. They both looked happy, though, which made Harry realise again that they were just kids.

Once she had left, Harry was sure he heard her sniff, and if her hand motions were any indication, she was crying again.

"Is that…normal?" Harry asked after the room had gone quiet for some time. He was afraid they had slept, but he didn't want to risk asking them this if Mrs Hacker was still nearby and listening. They glanced at each other as if speaking a language with their eyes before Sala sat up in bed, the blanket falling away from his chest and down to his waist.

"No," he said, "it's not." but he didn't elaborate.

"Goodnight, Topher", Reggie said, his voice clouded with sleep.

"Yeah, goodnight Toph," Sala added, lying back down.

"Thought my nickname was Tophy," Harry spoke up quietly, attempting a joke.

"Toph, Tophy, Tophster, you're still a cool kid either way," Sala responded, and Harry could hear a grin in his voice that made Harry smile.

"Okay, cool, kids, sleep now," Reggie grumbled.

Neither answered and soon, the sounds of even breathing spread throughout the room.

Harry closed his eyes too, and before he knew it, he, too, slept.

There were bars all around, and Harry held on to them to help himself up. A red-haired woman stood in front of him, her arms spread wide, blocking his view of the person just entering. She was screaming. He had heard another voice calling earlier, shouting desperately, but now it was silent. The new man, for Harry could see clearly that he didn't have long hair like his mum, was speaking pleasantly to her. Eventually, she moved aside, and Harry could see his face for the first time. He had dark hair, much like his own, and bright red eyes. "Avada Kedavra," he said, but what happened next little Harry couldn't comprehend, as a feeling of excruciating pain sprung from his forehead, and he started bawling. Through tear-filled eyes, he could see the shadow of a man materialise out of thin air, solidifying as the seconds ticked by. He, too, had jet-black hair, and he pulled a stick from within his sleeves and brandished it between himself and the small crib. The bright green overpowering light felt blinding to Harry's eyes, and by the time he managed to squeeze them open again, all he could see was another shadow zooming right at him, and the red-haired woman was nowhere to be found.

Harry woke screaming, and within a second, Sala was at his side, rubbing his hand down his back. "Laurie, get him some water…."

"Laurie?" Harry questioned, his head pounding as he pressed his palm to his old and new scar.

Sala ignored him, handing him the cup of water Reggie had brought.

"What happened," Reggie asked, looking concerned, and for a moment, Harry wondered why he looked as mature as he did.

"Nothing…Nightmare." Harry muttered, feeling embarrassed.

Harry put his glasses on, keeping his eyes lowered. He was a freak, a failure. Why weren't they throwing him out? He had cried, snivelled, screamed and made a mess in the few hours he had been there, and yet…yet… there they were, consoling him.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked when they started dragging one of the beds next to his.

"Don't worry, Tophster." Sala grinned, ignoring Harry's wince when the beds made a CLANG sound.

"And now, SLEEPOVER," Reggie exclaimed, ruffling Harry's hair, though careful not to irritate the bandages Mrs Hacker had put there.

"You'll never be alone again," Sala murmured, and after the two of them had rotated the mattresses, Reggie and Sala gestured for Harry to lie down. When he did, Sala spooned him from the back, and Reggie held him from the front; their easy-going manner made him wonder if they had done that before.

Before too long, their breaths evened out once more, but Harry couldn't sleep. He couldn't understand why the man that had shown up out of thin air in his dream looked familiar and why, to his slight apprehension, so did Sala.

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