– CHAPTER TWO –

The Vanishing Clothes

Over the next ten years, not much changed in the lives of the Dursley family. Vernon continued to go to work at Grunnings every day, and Petunia continued her usual routine of flitting between household chores and gossiping with her neighbours about the latest town rumours. The only one of the Dursleys that noticeably altered was Dudley, but even as he grew from a baby to a pre-teen, he retained the babyish cheeks and gormless expression he'd had stuck to his face since the moment he was born.

Just as the Dursleys had always done, they kept up the front they were a perfectly normal and uninteresting family, but the truth was that their lives had irreversibly shifted that November night. They just did everything they could do to ignore it, which only had disastrous consequences for the most vulnerable in their household.

'Up! Get up!' yelled Petunia as she repeatedly slapped her hands against the stairwell cupboard, inside of which slept the orphaned child who had been left in their care.

As their Aunt Petunia gave the entrance to their inadequate sleeping quarters one more wallop, Harry Potter finally awoke from their slumber, their unkempt shock of jet-black hair obscuring their face. Harry rarely ever remembered their dreams, but this one stood out. They had imagined themself in the arms of a giant, flying over Surrey on a motorbike. The image was so vivid and real to them, in fact, it felt more like a memory than a dream. The child thought perhaps they had had this dream before.

'Are you awake, young man?' barked Petunia.

'Yes, coming,' grumbled Harry as they sat up.

'Well, hurry up! Duddy's about to open his presents.'

Harry groaned, remembering that it was their beloved cousin's birthday. Then again, the spoilt sod hadn't shut up about how excited he was all week, rubbing it in Harry's face about all the gifts he already knew he was getting. The only presents Harry ever got on their birthday was yet another pile of Dudley's old clothes that no longer fit him, but absolutely swamped Harry's comparatively frail and diminutive body. Still, Harry had grown used to wearing baggy clothes and even found comfort in them. If anything, they felt far more anxious in anything that exposed their figure.

After throwing on a hoodie that stretched to their knees and affixed their ever-broken rounded spectacles in front of their bright-green eyes, Harry emerged from the cupboard under the stairs and headed down the corridor to the kitchen, where the birthday celebrations were just about to get underway.

As Harry began minding their family's full English breakfast, Dudley was inspecting the mountain of presents that enveloped the living room, checking over each one carefully as if he were a safety inspector. He spun the wheel of his new sports bike, carefully read the back covers of several video games, and tested the batteries of a toy drone. Vernon and Petunia watched, excited and yet also incredibly nervous.

Finally, Dudley turned to his parents. 'Thirty-six,' he said with certainty. 'That's one less than last year.'

Vernon's heart dropped as he attempted to stumble into a justification. 'Well, some of them are bigger than last year, and more expensive.'

Dudley gritted his teeth as his face turned red and he stared down his father. Vernon stammered to respond. Harry could tell if their aunt and uncle didn't act fast enough, the living room would be in tatters by the end of the hour. Dudley may not have been particularly strong, but he had a surprising amount of energy and it was hard for him to calm down until his lust for destruction was satisfied.

With Vernon stuck for ideas, it was Aunt Petunia who stepped in to avert a Class Five Dudley meltdown. 'And later today, we're going to pop into town and get you two more presents that you can pick yourself! How does that sound, Dudders?'

Vernon shot his wife a look of consternation, but after one more glance at his fuming son, he quickly played along. 'Yes, that's right, Dudley! That was always the plan! Wow, you really are quite the special young boy.'

Dudley, however, wasn't quite satiated. 'Now.'

'What, darling?' inquired Aunt Petunia.

'Not later,' he firmly clarified. 'Now! I want to get my two presents now!'

'But Dudley, I…I thought you wanted to go to the zoo today? Remember? There's that new exhibit in the reptile house –'

Dudley let out a snarl like an angry pit-bull, and his parents quickly caved in to their special boy. As Harry began serving his family their breakfast, the kitchen telephone rang and Aunt Petunia swiftly got up to answer it. His demands met, Dudley was now happily playing with his thirty-six other presents whilst Harry nervously nibbled on whatever scraps of bacon and eggs hadn't been hoarded by their uncle and cousin.

Petunia returned from her phone call even more perturbed than usual. She stared directly at Harry, making the child wonder what they had done wrong now. 'Bad news, Vernon: Mrs. Figg is in the hospital. She can't look after him.'

Both Uncle Vernon and Dudley joined Petunia in scowling at their burdensome family member. Meanwhile, Harry was equally thrilled and scared. On the one hand, they were glad not to be fobbed off on Mrs. Figg as they always were on Dudley's birthday. She was far from an awful person, and a saint in comparison to the Dursleys, but her house smelt like dead flowers and she spoke about nothing but her cats. On the other though, Harry feared how Vernon would take this out on them later; as if it were their fault somehow that their neighbour had fallen ill.

'He's not coming,' said Dudley bluntly. 'He never gets to come.'

'Is there no one else who can mind the boy?' questioned Vernon. 'No other neighbours? Friends?'

'Pfft, imagine that!' chuckled Dudley. 'Harry? Friends? Fat chance!'

'I…I don't mind just staying here,' said Harry, in a rare moment of speaking up for themself.

'Oh, you'd enjoy that, wouldn't you?' said Petunia, giving young Harry a knowing look. 'No, we're not leaving you here alone.'

Harry gulped. No other context was needed. They remembered all too well what happened the last time the Dursleys left them alone in the house.

'So, what are we to do?' questioned Uncle Vernon.

Within the hour, Harry was in the back seat of the Dursleys' car, with a very upset Dudley sitting with his arms folded and the biggest frown he could muster. Petunia kept assuring him that it was just for the trip to the store, and that as soon as they were home, Harry would be put away in their cupboard before his party guests arrived.

As grim as their evening sounded, Harry was at least glad they'd get to leave the house, but Uncle Vernon's words to them right before the family left put the fear into them.

'You are coming with us, but you are not with us,' he said bluntly. 'Keep quiet, stay out of trouble, and if you do anything to ruin this for Dudley, you'll be in that cupboard for more than just tonight.'

Harry had no intention of ruining Dudley's birthday, or to do anything ever to upset their aunt and uncle. For reasons completely out of their control though, unexplained things just kept happening in Harry's life that drove the Dursleys up the wall.

For instance, no matter how hard Aunt Petunia and every barber in the Surrey area tried, Harry's hair grew at a worryingly fast rate. Petunia got so frustrated that she once completely shaved Harry's scalp right down to the skin. Strangely, by the time Harry woke up the next morning, their hair had already grown back into a neat pixie cut, and by week's end their locks looked like they hadn't been trimmed in months. It didn't bother Harry at all, as they actually enjoyed having longer hair, but it wasn't as if they had grown it all back that fast on purpose.

On another occasion, whilst on a trip to Ikea to buy Dudley a new bed after breaking his previous one from jumping on it too much, Harry spotted a cute shark soft toy that they were immediately obsessed with. They asked Uncle Vernon if they could buy it, but he refused; it was unmanly for a boy to own soft toys, even if it was a shark. However, when they arrived home later that day, the toy was sitting in the car boot with everything else they had purchased. Vernon tried to accuse Harry of stealing it, but not only was the shark accounted for in his receipt, every time he tried to return it to Ikea it somehow found its way back to Privet Drive. Eventually he gave up and just let Harry have the toy on the condition they never leave the house with it. Harry was more than happy to comply, and Katy the Shark had been their one and only friend since.

But trouble found Harry most often at school, where Dudley could drop all pretences and torture Harry relentlessly with his gang of brutish mates. One afternoon, after fleeing from yet another round of taunting laced with homophobia, Harry found themself cornered in a dead-end alley behind the school swimming baths. They took a step backwards, and somehow fell through the wall into the girls' changing room. The place happened to be empty at the time, but it still led to Harry being accused of being a pervert, and a very strongly worded email ended up being sent by the headmistress to the Dursleys. Harry tried to explain what had happened, but no one believed them. They had no idea how they managed to fall through a solid brick wall. All Harry had been thinking about in that situation was wanting to find somewhere safe from the boys.

But a simple trip to the department store? Harry knew they couldn't mess this up.

As they drove through town, the Dursleys passed a convoy of motorbikes speeding by, likely part of some event happening in the area that day. Whilst Vernon bemoaned their loud engines and their tendency to get in his car's blind spot, Harry watched the procession of bikes with interest. One of them, though, looked particularly familiar.

'I saw a bike just like that in my dream last night,' they said. 'It was flying over Surrey, like an airplane!'

'Bikes aren't airplanes!' barked Uncle Vernon abruptly, stating the obvious. Even Aunt Petunia found the outburst a little too much.

'It…it was just a dream,' Harry stammered. 'I know they can't'

'As well you should! Things can't just become other things. Apples can't turn into oranges, boys can't become girls, and bikes can't become planes!'

Vernon muttered to himself for the rest of the journey as Harry tried to parse what exactly had triggered him. His uncle was very easy to anger, especially when Harry was involved in some way, but he seemed especially irritated by any suggestion that things may not be as they seem. Anything that wasn't deemed 'proper' or 'traditional' in his eyes may as well have been a work of fiction, and there was no room for imagination or alternative perspectives in his eyes. Given that Harry saw the world very differently from the Dursleys, that more than anything was what kept them at odds.

Finally, Vernon's vehicle pulled up in the multi-storey car park and Harry soon found themself in a wonderland of consumerism. Gerrard's, the local department store, was something of a one-stop shop that sold everything you could possibly want across six grand floors. Televisions, armchairs, perfume, tea towels, gardening tools, sewing kits, bathroom tiles; you name it, Gerrard's probably sold it. As they passed through trying to find a store directory, Harry took it all in and tried to imagine what they would buy from here if they had a room to actually furnish.

Once they figured out that the toys and gadgets were on the second floor, Dudley quickly scampered off as quickly as his stubby little legs could carry him. Vernon chased after him, leaving Petunia behind to keep an eye on Harry. Clearly wanting a moment of peace to herself, she grabbed Harry firmly by the wrist and dragged them to the women's clothing section, ostensibly to find an outfit for an upcoming gala at Grunnings to celebrate the launch of a new drill model.

As their aunt ran her fingers through the racks of near-identical formal dresses, Harry's eyes were caught by a mannequin just across from them in the childrens' clothing section. It was a navy-blue dress with elbow-length sleeves, with a white collared V-neck and a red trim around the sleeves and hemline. Paired with the outfit was a matching beret tilted just slightly to the side, and a pair of black-and-white formal clogs with a slight heel.

For reasons they couldn't quite understand, Harry felt drawn to the dress in a way they rarely were to clothing. They usually didn't care about how they looked, mainly because they had little choice in the matter. In that moment, however, Harry was compelled to do something they knew the Dursleys, Uncle Vernon especially, would not tolerate: they wanted to try the dress on.

As Aunt Petunia rounded the corner away from the dresses to look at the shoe racks, still dragging Harry tightly behind her, she came to a sudden halt. Just across the way from them was Cecilia Eaglesmith, queen bee of the local socialites and wife of Grunnings' major shareholder Humphrey Eaglesmith, trying on various types of Loubitons. Petunia panicked, shoving Harry back around the corner and against the wall.

'Stay here, and out of sight,' she grilled them. 'I want to make a good impression.'

With that, Petunia let go of Harry's wrist and strutted as casually as she could over to Cecilia to strike up a conversation. From their vantage point, Harry couldn't hear what they were talking about, but more likely than not Petunia was bigging up how important Vernon was, showering Cecilia with compliments in a vain attempt at friendship, and nervously blurting out her insecurities. What Harry could tell for certain was that Cecilia, whilst being as polite as she could, was hardly even paying attention.

Harry's attention turned back to the dress on the mannequin. With Petunia distracted, and both Vernon and Dudley on the other side of the store, this was their one and only chance to sneak away and try it on. Several sizes of the outfit were neatly sat at the foot of the display, along with the accompanying accessories, and the closest fitting room was only a stone's throw from where Harry stood. With how long they knew Aunt Petunia could natter on about nothing in particular, it was perfectly feasible that they could nab the dress, try it on, and be back before their aunt even noticed they were gone.

It was a risk, and one Harry was all too aware of the consequences if they were caught, but it was a compulsion they couldn't resist. Why exactly, they didn't know yet, but it certainly wasn't the first time they'd had such a gut feeling.

They thought back to the last time the Dursleys had left Harry alone in the house. After growing bored of playing with Dudley's toys, they found themself in their aunt and uncle's room, looking through Petunia's wardrobe. Harry was particularly drawn to one pink dress; the only nice one that their aunt owned. They had taken it down off the hanger and examined it, but before they could do anything else, Petunia walked in, having left behind her mobile phone on the dresser. She scolded Harry and told them never to come in her room again, and to "not mention this to your uncle."

As quickly but quietly as they could, Harry strode across the store floor and grabbed the first dress on the display they could. They didn't have time to find the right size, but given their emaciated body and being used to wearing baggy clothing, they weren't too bothered. Harry's eyes darted back towards Petunia to check if she had noticed they were gone, but her gaze was completely transfixed on Cecilia. Without wasting another second, Harry dashed over to the fitting rooms and grabbed an empty cubicle at the far end of the corridor.

Shedding their oversized clothing and looking at their natural physique, Harry sensed a great pang of discomfort in their stomach. They rarely ever looked at themself in the mirror, and whenever they did, they scarcely recognised the bedraggled and dejected child that stared back at them. Combined with the constant abuse they faced at the hands of the Dursleys, Harry often felt completely disconnected from their own body; like they were merely an observer in their own life.

When they slipped on that outfit though, those feelings suddenly didn't seem overwhelming.

The dress fit them snugly around the torso and waist, a feeling Harry wasn't used to and usually hated when forced to wear sports gear or swimming costumes, but instead it made them feel light and flowing. When they looked at themself in the mirror now, Harry didn't feel like they were looking at a stranger. For what felt like the first time, they saw the real Harry.

Due to their lengthy hair and young facial features, Harry was occasionally mistaken for a young girl by strangers, something which their aunt and uncle would throw a fit over every time it happened. With the outfit now though, Harry looked like they'd fit right in with the girls in their class. Realising this as they stared at their reflection, Harry did something they had rarely ever done their entire life: they smiled.

Sadly, this feeling of euphoria was short-lived, as they heard the familiar clomping of heavy footsteps and wheezed breathing.

'Harry Potter!' blared the unmistakable bellowing voice of Uncle Vernon. 'Get out here now!'

Harry gulped. They peered underneath their cubicle door to see Vernon's feet pacing up and down the fitting room corridor. They started slamming opening the unlocked booths, and furiously knocking on those occupied.

'You can't hide from me, boy,' Mr Dursley snarled. 'Your aunt saw you sneak off in here.'

Harry panicked as they tried to remove the dress from their body, but as they kept trying, the collar of the garment kept tightening. Within seconds, its collar had gone from V-neck to turtleneck, as if the clothing itself was refusing to be taken off. Harry could hear their uncle's footsteps getting closer and closer. It was bad enough that they had been caught sneaking off, but for Uncle Vernon to find them dressed like this, they knew it would get them in an unimaginable amount of trouble.

As Mr Dursley finally reached the final cubicle, and with few other options left, Harry got down on all fours and crawled army-style into the neighbouring booth, which was thankfully empty. They then reached back and pulled their discarded boy clothes and shoes in with them.

Uncle Vernon banged furiously on the door of the now-vacated stall. 'I know you're in there, Potter! You were warned!'

'Sir, sorry, can I help you?' asked a store attendant.

'Apologies, madam,' sighed Mr Dursley, putting their "polite" voice on. 'My nephew is hiding in this cubicle. Can you open this from the outside at all?'

'I'm afraid that's against store policy, sir. Are you sure they're in here? I'm sure there's far more interesting areas in the store for a young boy than the fitting rooms. We could make an announcement for them to come to the service desk, if you like?

Vernon grumbled before relenting. 'Fine.'

Harry waited a few moments before they were sure Vernon was gone, then cautiously peeked their head out of the cubicle to see if the coast was clear. There was no one in sight; at least, no one who would recognise them.

With a slight sense of relief, Harry stepped out into the fitting room corridor and headed back to the main shop floor. They weren't really sure of their next steps. Maybe they could find a friendly attendant who could help them out of the dress. Maybe if they removed the tags from the clothes, they could walk out of the store without setting off any alarms. Maybe –

'Harry?'

Harry turned to see, waiting just outside the entrance to the changing rooms, Dudley gaping his mouth the most they had ever seen. They were clutching in their arms a gigantic fire truck toy and a new set of speakers, doubtlessly the new presents he had chosen, and the lollipop they had been sucking fell out of their cavernous jaw and onto the floor. Very quickly though, Dudley's gobsmacked reaction turned into fits of laughter.

'Daddy, Daddy, look!' they shouted gleefully, pointing at Harry. 'Harry's dressed like a girl! You were right: he really is a poofter!' Dudley continued laughing and laughing, to the point it sounded like he was struggling to even breathe.

What happened next, Harry couldn't explain. One moment, Dudley was cackling in their face like the bully he was, and the next he wasn't, because almost all of his clothes suddenly disappeared from his body. Left standing in only his Batman briefs and socks, Dudley's mood took a sharp turn into panic. He dropped the truck and speakers, both of which smashed against the floor, as he frantically began searching for his clothes. Onlookers started to take notice, but no one's reaction was quite as vicious as Aunt Petunia's, who screeched in horror upon seeing her dearest boy running around half-naked in public.

The department store staff searched everywhere but couldn't find Dudley's clothes, and they equally weren't able to remove the dress from Harry's body. As compensation, and mainly just to dampen his incessant sobbing, the manager did give Dudley a new toy truck and speakers, but the Dursleys were forced to pay for the dress.

Dudley went home in Harry's clothes, which barely even fit the young boy as his belly peeked out underneath his hoody and his trousers legs stopped above his ankles. The car ride home to Privet Drive was eerily quiet, with Uncle Vernon not even muttering obscenities under his breath as he often did. It was sadly the last moment of calm Harry would experience that day.

As soon as they arrived home, Dudley ran upstairs to his room to change into some clothes to actually fit him, whilst Aunt Petunia feverishly dived into preparing the house for the incoming birthday guests. Uncle Vernon, meanwhile, viciously dragged Harry by the wrist into the kitchen, grabbed a pair of scissors, and proceeded to cut Harry's dress to shreds right off of their body. As the clothes lay in tatters on the tiled floor, any sense of joy Harry had felt that day faded as the dire consequences reared their ugly head.

'Go to your cupboard,' Mr Dursley said coldly, unable to even look Harry in the face. 'Don't even think about leaving until the party is over.'

Harry, in yet another unwise move, attempted to speak reason. 'Uncle Vernon, I didn't do –'

THWACK! Vernon's hand brutally smacked against Harry's right cheek, sending their glasses flying off their face and breaking yet again as they crashed against the kitchen fridge. It wasn't the first time their uncle had beaten them, and they knew it probably wouldn't be their last. Harry was just thankful Vernon hadn't resorted to using his belt…or worse.

'Go now, boy,' Mr Dursley seethed, 'or you'll be begging to be locked up.'

With little else they could do, Harry gathered the fragments of their spectacles and retreated to their cupboard. They spent the rest of the evening clutching Katy tight in her arms as they listened to the muffled bass of Dudley's party music blaring in the living room.

This was hardly the only bad day Harry had endured at the hands of the Dursleys, or even the only time a feeling of joy had been snatched away from them, but this one hurt more than any of them combined. Ten long, miserable years they had endured living on Privet Drive, trapped in a mouldy and cramped cupboard, with little to no knowledge of their birth parents and no sign that their future would be any better. Harry rarely remembered their dreams, but they often imagined moving far away from the Dursleys and finding a new family that loved and accepted them. More accurately, they wished they were an entirely different person all together.

The truth was that Harry liked being mistaken for a girl by strangers, but they were even more taken aback when passers-by they had never meet seemed to know who they were. They were usually odd-mannered folks in beautiful but clashing clothing, often in bright colours and adorned with ornate symbols. The Dursleys were always quick to usher Harry away from these people when they approached, explaining that they were likely criminals, perverts, or homosexuals; in the mind of the Dursleys, they were all one and the same.

That's when Harry finally began to wonder: am I one of them?