A/N: This one came about from an idea thrown about on DLP (before I'd ever seen or read Fight Club) about Harry who develops schizophrenia from the abuse. Unfortunately, I was apparently too subtle, and everyone thought it was a story about Harry's superpowered kid friend (except Nonjon).

Seven Deadly Drabbles

Pursuit of Happiness (formerly "Repression")

I was scared.

After all, I'm only six years old, and my uncle is a very large man, who was currently holding me up by my arm and yelling at me; his face had turned the puce that indicated his fourth stage of angry – violent. I'd gotten past that to other shades, of course, in the past, which were really violent and call-the-professional-cleaners violent, respectively. I still shuddered a bit when I thought of the mess he made that needed the professional cleaners.

"You're scared now, boy?!" Uncle Vernon roared, spittle flying in my face as he waved me around by my right arm – that's a bit painful, by the way. I was plenty scared of him, of course, but I still wasn't sure quite why I was in trouble. It wasn't my fault Mrs. Garish, my teacher at school, had a lovely shade of pink hair.

I mean, sure, I was mad at her at the time – Dudley had just kicked me rather painfully for raising my hand to answer a question that he didn't know, so I was upset that she called on me – but I wasn't in the habit of carrying hair dye around with me, so it definitely wasn't my fault.

"You think volunteering an answer'll make our Dudders look bad, do you? Well, I'll make it so you never raise this bloody arm again!" Uh oh, that didn't sound good. Sure enough, Vernon grabbed my battered twig of a right arm with both of his meaty hands now and was bending, bending – oh, this was not good at all, and I braced myself for the inevitable snap of my malnourished arm.

WHAM!

Vernon was on the floor just like that, and I dropped easily to the ground, my arm thankfully unbroken. Dudley, who had only moments ago been cackling gleefully at his father's actions unrestrained by Aunt Petunia – at the store buying half the meat section for the twin hippos – stood staring in shock, his eyes widened in a manner that would have been extremely funny if my shoulder wasn't still sore from Vernon waving me around like a doll.

I looked at the spot from where Vernon had been sent flying, and saw…myself?

He was just like me in every way, and yet, he seemed so different. He was my age, height, slim – some might say emaciated – build, even had my vivid green eyes and messy black hair.

"Hey there, handsome," he said with a roguish grin, while I just gaped dumbly at him.

"Er...hi?"

"Name's David, nice to meet you." He stuck out his hand in a friendly manner, which I shook as formalities dictated.

"Oi! Dursley!" David said, kicking Uncle Vernon is his fat belly. I was rather surprised that the man grunted from his spot on the floor – with all of those layers of fat, David must have some kick. Of course, a kick from the boy had laid out the beached whale just a moment ago, so I probably shouldn't have been so shocked.

"You ever touch Potter over there again, and I'll do more than change your hair pink. Got it?" His voice had started neutrally enough, but had dropped until there was a nearly palpable cold permeating the room from the chill of his voice. He looked over at me – I think I still had a gob-smacked look on my face, truthfully enough – and winked slyly before going over to Dudley. Uncle Vernon whimpered slightly in response, so David continued, "And give him a proper bedroom, for God's sake! And feed him!" Uncle Vernon had gathered himself up from the floor now, and was starting to look indignant at the boy.

"Why you –" a raised hand was as far as he got before David, with shocking speed and strength obviously coming from somewhere besides his just-over-three-foot frame, snatched his hand out of the air and bent his entire arm back, driving Vernon to his knees as the older man cried out in pain.

"You ever try to hit me again, and no one'll find your body." I never knew a six year old like me could growl, but there it was.

"Dinky Duddydim?" David said sweetly, in a fair imitation and corruption of one of Aunt Petunia's many pet names for her favorite child. I gave up trying to guess where he knew all of this from at this point, and just figured it was easier if I didn't know. Dudley backed away as fast as he could – his mouth still open like earlier – and fell on his backside, trying to scramble away.

"D'you know what'll happen if you tell anyone, even dear mummy, what happened here today?" He started in that same sweet voice, which instantly changed back to his cold threatening one, "You won't need liposuction, because I'll tear off your skin and remove all your fat the old-fashioned way. You won't survive, and you'll be glad of that little comfort!" David once more winked at me before sauntering away out the door. Vernon and Dudley were left to stare in horror at the only one of us who'd managed to stay standing throughout the encounter; I happened to be massaging my shoulder just a bit.

"Y-y-you…FREAK!" Dudley shrieked at me, running up the stairs faster than I'd ever seen him. Hmmm…when threatened, he might do well at football, despite poor performance in our gym class.

Vernon was left eyeing me, his eyes holding the same terrified expression as Dudley's, so I muttered, "Er…I'll just be going to my cupboard, then…"

"NO!" He nearly squeaked, more than an octave above his usual range, "Er…y-you're getting to be a bit big for the cupboard. Take Dudley's spare room, H-h-Harry." I shrugged, more than a bit surprised at my good luck. I was immediately suspicious that I would hopefully gather all my worldly belongings and move them up to the room only to have them burned or something by Uncle Vernon, but decided to take the chance.

By the time I got up there, Dudley was hurriedly shuffling all of his broken toys out of the room, still moving almost as fast as he had up the stairs, while Uncle Vernon nervously looked between me and his son, his beady eyes moving quickly.

"Er…I'll just go to the playground, then, until he finishes…if that's alright?" I asked hesitantly. Normally, the Dursleys would lock me up in my cupboard for the rest of the night if I so much as suggested such a thing, but I felt like pressing my luck today.

It paid off, and ten minutes later I was swinging by myself at the park near my primary school. The silence was beautiful, and the weather was at least decent, for October in Surrey.

"You doing okay, then?" I jerked at the sound of a familiar voice – it was David again, though how he snuck up on me I couldn't tell. He was swinging slightly in the seat next to mine, swaying back and forth casually.

"Oh, yeah! Thanks for that back there, I thought I was really going to get it! But now they're moving Dudley's broken toys out of the second bedroom and I'll get to stay there!" I said, excited at the prospect. David smiled a bit and nodded.

"Good, I was hoping they didn't need another reminder." He was quiet for just a moment when he said, "I won't ever let them hurt you again, Harry. You've been hurt far too much already." I smiled at him, my first friend. I was a pariah at school, Dudley had made sure of that – everyone knew I was an orphan and that Dudley and his friends would pick on me and anyone who associated with me.

"Thanks, David! You're really strong, you know, for being my size and everything. Why do you look like me, anyway?" I said, my eyebrows furrowing slightly before I came to the conclusion, "Are you like, my brother?!" I asked excitedly. I probably squeaked a bit, but I'd never had a brother before. It was a great feeling of belonging.

"Yeah, we're like brothers, Harry," he said, smiling too. I got off my swing and hugged him tightly – my first hug, and neither of us shied away from it!

"Looks like you've got company, Harry – I'll be around." I glanced over to where he pointed, and didn't even feel him slip out of my grasp or hear him wander off as I looked more closely at the approaching men.

At first, I thought they might be women in dresses, but one had facial hair and both had rather close-cropped hair, so I thought it unlikely. They were also carrying sticks, but that wasn't that unusual – I played with sticks all the time, pretending they were swords or guns or all kinds of other fun things.

I never did it in front of the Dursleys – I'd made the mistake once while pretending my stick was a magic wand, and Uncle Vernon had instantly gotten to the fifth shade of puce – extremely violent – even before I'd told him what it was. When I swore I was just pretending, he finally let me go, but the bruises had only faded a week later.

"Hi there! My name's Harry!" I said to the tall men, sticking my hand out to greet them. I remember hearing that I shouldn't have talked to strangers, but these guys seemed fun – after all, they played with sticks, too.

"'Ey there, kiddo, wait…Harry Potter!" He said, staring open-mouthed at the scar on my forehead. I didn't like the ugly mark, but secretly did, because it reminded me of my parents, killed in a car crash.

"That's me!" I smiled brightly – they knew my name, like I was a famous person from Aunt Petunia's magazines – this was cool.

"Blimey, Ern! 'Arry bloody Potter! Wait'll I tell Doris, mate!" The blonde with facial hair exclaimed, wide-eyed. The other merely nodded dumbly.

"So what are you gentlemen doing around here? Playing with your sticks? Can I join you – I love playing pirates, or knights with swords!" I enthused, unused to playmates, much less older ones with more experience playing as knights. I'd bet they were really good at it, after doing it all those years.

"Er…we're a Magic Reversal Squad. Some kid turned his teacher's hair pink, and we're going to – wait, was that you? Was that your accidental magic?" I ignored their question, instead focusing on the word magic. I'd learned long ago never to say it, for fear of the Dursleys' wrath. Saying the 'm-word' was the only sure way to hit the Sixth Level of Puce, which needed professional cleaners from the mess Uncle Vernon would make when he pitched a fit. And to think, I'd only been describing a dream.

"You mean you guys can do magic!?" I said wonderingly to them, eyes wide. They both smiled brightly at me in return.

"O' course, kiddo! And you can to, since you turned your teacher's hair pink. It's a sure sign, after all. Hah! Few years, you'll be going to Diagon Alley and getting a wand, then off to Hogwarts! Makes me wish I had a kid your age – that's somethin', eh Ern? Go to Hogwarts with Harry Potter! Merlin!" I laughed along with them, even though I didn't really understand what he was saying. Adults do that sometimes.

"How can I get to Diagon Alley? I want to get a Merlin wand too!" I said, trying to contain my excitement at joining their exclusive group.

"Blimey, we're late, Ern. Diagon Alley's in London, Mr. Potter. Just go through the Leaky Cauldron, on Charing Cross, o' course! It was an honor meeting you!" They both shook my hand violently and departed quickly, heading towards the school.

"So, Harry," David said, once again appearing from out of nowhere by my side, "Are you free tomorrow for a trip to London?"

It was a Saturday, so I was very free. Except for chores for the Dursleys, of course…maybe David could ask them if I could skip tomorrow, though.