Watched by Petunia Dursley out of the corner of her overlarge, pale eyes, Harry was finishing with the dinner. Like most things favoured by the male Dursleys, the meal was meaty, fatty, and oily and there was more fat and protein than anything healthy, like vegetables. The only vegetables in the meal were pears and pieces of carrots, but their presence on the dinner plates was minimal. Harry's stomach ached as he looked at it; he had come to like stealing bits of food, but that didn't mean seeing and smelling something like this didn't make his stomach yearn for more than what he usually got.
"Try not to burn anything, Boy!" Petunia hissed.
Harry ignored the woman as he concentrated. It had been three days since he had read that copy of The Demon Headmaster, and he was still no closer to working out how to make people do as he wished. That sort of power would make a difference now; he had been with the Dursleys long enough, but there were moments when he still became nervous. Petunia always watched him like a hawk. She kept telling him not to burn anything, but he usually always did. Harry found her efforts to get him into trouble annoying and predictable.
Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry noticed Dudley smirking at him while he grabbed a can of coke from the fridge. Harry frowned, wondering what Dudley was planning to do, but the job he had been given stopped him from really paying any attention to his cousin. When the dinner was finished, Harry served it up on the plates before he took them to the table.
"Dinner's ready," Harry announced as the Dursleys expected him to; quiet, meek, virtually invisible.
"At last! Hurry up! Bring it over, Boy!" Vernon barked in quick succession. Harry had to bite his lip. He had noticed, as his abilities grew, that he wished he could just throw the Dursleys around like broken rag dolls. He had resisted because he knew he would get out, and truthfully while he did like the criminal life, he also wanted a quiet and peaceful one. If he attacked the Dursleys, anything could happen.
Harry slowly walked over to the table, trying not to upset the contents on the plates; the Dursleys were having lamb steaks (why did they need to have different types of meat like this? Harry honestly did not know; only the night before, they'd had massive burgers dripping with mustard and ketchup; from what he had picked up from the public library, such a diet was not healthy. He only had to look at the massive girths both Vernon and Dudley sported to know that much) tonight, with a massive platter of chips and some veg on the side.
There was no doubt in Harry's mind the scarce amount of vegetables on the plates would be complained about by both Vernon and Dudley. Vernon hated what he called 'rabbit food,' a sentiment supported by Dudley, who was like a parrot and didn't have any opinions of his own, thanks to the way his parents were raising him.
Harry concentrated on walking forwards - why did the Dursleys need so much food? The good news was he would be getting some scraps, even if he had to find some way of hiding what he was doing.
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed a large mass coming up behind him. Before he could do anything, it was already too late. He felt a large foot hook itself around his leg. Harry yelped as he suddenly went flying, and he watched in horror as the platters flew out of his hands and smash to the ground.
Vernon got out of his chair fast. "BOY!" He roared, furious. His face was purple as he glared at Harry with his narrow little piggy eyes.
"My floor! You good for nothing little freak!" Petunia suddenly slapped him in the face but without the force needed to send him to the ground where the splinters and the fatty meat and chips and scattered peas and carrots were ready to meet him.
"I'm sorry!" Harry protested, wondering if the pair of them knew Dudley was the one responsible for the accident, or if they just simply did not care. Harry didn't know himself. Unfortunately, the apology was all he could get out before Vernon grabbed him by his collar and lifted him off of the ground.
"You dropped our dinner and ruined the floor!" Vernon shouted angrily.
"It was not my fault!" Harry protested.
"Then whose fault was it, you pathetic little brat!?" Vernon screamed. Harry bit his lip, knowing he could not accuse Dudley; if there was one thing he had learnt in this damn family, it was that Dudley could do no wrong, whereas Harry himself was seen as the devil himself. "We took you in when your freak criminal parents got themselves killed in that car crash! We gave you the food off of our table! You were given clothes and a place to live! Is it so much to ask that you be a normal, hardworking member of society, and earn your keep here?"
Harry knew his uncle was lying. Those memories he had of that stranger with red eyes were still too clear in his mind. But he had found a few books in the library relating to child abuse. While Harry didn't mind being a criminal, and quite liked it, he had learnt the last thing he should ever do was to bow down and allow the Dursleys' mental and physical abuse to make him believe he deserved it. He had only been a toddler when he had found himself here, memories of his loving parents a dim, distant memory in his head. They weren't negligent in those memories, and they didn't show any signs of being criminals or drunks there.
But as for what his uncle had said…
Even now, Harry had no idea why the Dursleys had kept him here. They had never hidden the fact they hated him, and they resented his presence here. More than once he had heard them curse him for being here.
Hell, how many times had he had to endure Marge (again, he refused to call her 'aunt' as she was not related to him except by marriage) drunkenly taunting him, telling him he should be grateful for Petunia and Vernon taking him in when a normal person who was less charitable would have dumped him in a foster home.
Charitable?
Yeah, right. The only charitable thing that the Dursleys had ever done in their lives was to drop 10 pence coins in the collection plate at the local church. And yet he was still confused about why he was here. As time had gone by, Harry had often suspected the Dursleys had kidnapped him from his parents, for some sick reason. He wouldn't have put it past them, either. They loved enslaving kids. How many times had he fantasised about his parents looking for him, finding him here, and getting the Dursleys thrown in prison? Sadly, those were just fantasies. They had never come true. And he had slowly begun accepting that they wouldn't.
As for feeding, he had merely been given scraps while he was forced to work himself to the bone. If he hadn't discovered his powers, Harry would have died of starvation a long time ago. One of the only reasons he still stayed was because he had nowhere else to go, although that was when he had been a youngster. Now he was older, and he was able to understand, Harry knew there were better options available to him and he was going to look for them.
Harry winced as he felt the grip on his collar begin to choke him, and he screamed when Vernon's free meaty paw smacked him in the face. Stunned by the blow, Harry was barely given a minute to grasp what had happened before he screamed when he felt an impact in his chest which he was sure had broken his ribs. Harry tried to shift himself into a foetal position instinctively to protect his body, but Vernon kept kicking him before he whipped off his belt. Harry looked up at him with watery eyes from the pain he was in, and he cried breathlessly as his uncle whipped him with the belt buckle.
Xxxx
Harry flinched as he sat in his cupboard, taking in deep breaths as he used his powers to repair his injuries. After being whipped and kicked repeatedly by Vernon, the violent lumbering oaf, Harry had been saved by his aunt, and he had been thrown into the cupboard under the stairs. Harry knew better than to expect them to contact the hospital, they had never cared before and since he was convinced that they wanted him to die, why to expend the effort? In any case, he was convinced that they knew of his abilities. How often had he heard them whispering about it when they believed he couldn't hear them?
As he took the slow deep breaths, Harry could feel the ribs his so-called uncle had broken repair themselves, wincing as they snapped back into position. It had been a long time since he had needed to use his powers to repair injuries like this, and it had been a highly unpleasant experience then, and it still was even now. Harry also focused on the injuries his back had taken from the belt whipping, and he felt the sting in his back as they healed.
Slowly as he moved around the cupboard space, feeling his pain slowly vanish, Harry considered. He wasn't going to stay here. No way. He'd had more than enough. Harry was beginning to regret not leaving on his last birthday, but he had been worried about what was in the world. Now he longer cared. Anything had to be better than living in Little Whinging.
As his body slowly recovered, Harry checked the amount of money he had taken from the Dursleys and the neighbours. For a long time, he had been sneaking the money out of the Dursleys, going through his 'uncle's' dirty pockets, and taking whatever money he could find. Dudley was much easier, as his room was a tip, and he left his money scattered around. When he had mastered his abilities and could come and go as he pleased, Harry had been sneaking more and more money out of shops and homes. And since nobody but he opened the Cupboard, hiding it was relatively easy. He hadn't used it to make his escape because he had been trying to build up a large enough amount to survive on for a bit.
Waiting for the Dursleys to fall asleep, Harry quickly picked up his backpack and used his powers to unlock the cupboard and he peeked out slowly. He was tense as he listened for any sign of the Dursley's presence, relaxing only when he heard no sounds coming from the living room and saw only pitch darkness. Harry stepped out of the cupboard before heading into the kitchen. He took out a knife and fork with a spoon and shoved them into his pocket before he went back into the hall he unlocked the front door, before stepping out into the darkness. He deliberately left the cupboard open, to rub it into the Dursleys' faces when they woke up, he was gone and was never coming back.
As he shivered on the way to the railway station, Harry's stomach ached with hunger. He had collected the food he had stolen, but as he thought about it, he wanted something more substantial. When he was finally in the town, Harry shivered even more. A cold wind was picking up through the town, and he wished he had a much warmer coat.
He spotted a few women stumbling around, their hair was done up wearing short skirts and very little clothing, and Harry recognised them as prostitutes from the descriptions he had found in crime thrillers. Harry ignored them, and they paid him the same courtesy. They didn't care a very small child was wandering the streets at this hour.
Stomach still guiding him, Harry used his powers to sneak around the back of the local Sainsburys. The chains and the locks they used largely managed to keep out some thieves, and the fences were specially made to prevent climbing. None of this was an obstacle for Harry; with just a single, simple wave of his hand, the security systems were shut down, the backyard locks were opened, and he was in.
After rooting around in the bins, wrinkling his nose at the smell and the amount of food going to waste, Harry was pleased one of his favourite places to look for food had yielded results yet again. From here, he had received some great meals; even the microwave ones were good since all he needed to do was to peel back the plastic film, heat it with a single thought and hey presto, he had a meal. He took out two ready meals in the form of tagliatelle, and for pudding, he had gotten a small sponge desert which didn't need microwaving. Smiling triumphantly down at his catch, Harry quickly put them in his backpack. He could eat them on the platform while he was waiting for the train. He had just locked the gates back up again and he was about to reset the security system when Harry heard hurried footsteps quite close. He turned and found himself looking at the new arrival.
It was a man. He was dressed in rough clothes, with red eyes in the low light. He stank of booze, a smell Harry had smelt on Vernon often enough, usually before he was beaten.
The most terrifying thing about the man was his smile. It was so unsettling that Harry swallowed quietly; he had never been smiled at like this ever, ever before. Vernon had never smiled at him like that, even when his piggy eyes had been flashing malevolently. But this man…
"What's a little thing like you doing out here, on a cold night like this?" The man asked.
Harry looked around, hoping to see an exit he could use; it was a waste of time, but he was instinctively desperate even if he knew this place very well.
He turned back to the man, hoping to keep his control. "Mind your own business," he said.
The man's leer grew. "Oh, such a sweet voice. My, my, am I gonna have fun wi you."
The look on his face made Harry back away. He had never felt anything like this, nor had he encountered anything like this. "I-I have to go," Harry was ashamed of himself for the squeak that came out of his voice, but he was terrified. He was tempted to use his powers, but he was hoping to leave Little Whinging silently. "Please, just let me go."
He tried stepping past the man in a wide arc, but the stranger was faster. "Nu-uh, little guy. I need your help."
"Then go to the police. Leave me alone," Harry snapped, anger mixing with his fear.
The man leered down at him malevolently. Harry swallowed again, knowing this was not going to be easy. This man, while stringy and thin, easily dwarfed him by height and weight. But Harry knew the man had already guessed he was going to win, but he hadn't figured on the boy in front of him had powers.
"I'm not going to help you, and I'm leaving. Find someone else to…help you," Harry sneered in disgust and contempt as he easily worked out for himself what the help meant. It didn't seem to work as the man gazed at him salaciously. What kind of thoughts were going through his mind, Harry truly did not know, but the sick grin on his face harked back to some of the darker elements he had seen and read in the novels from the library.
"No one will care, kid, nobody," the man leered.
Harry went cold as he realised the man was right. "They'll find me," he said warningly.
"No, they won't," the man crept closer. "They won't. 'cos you won't be here. You'll fetch a lovely price."
"You-you're going to sell me?" Harry hadn't expected that little twist.
The man's grin widened and he whipped out a knife. The blade was blunt, dull, and slightly rusted which Harry could still see, but it was still dangerous and one cut would hurt enough to leave an infection, probably "Stay still, now. I wouldn't wanna hurt that cute little face. 'sides, traffickers want 'em intact if you catch me drift?" He laughed.
Harry quickly worked out his options - staying here after escaping the Dursleys was an insult to his pride, so it wasn't a choice. He was small, though. Quickly, he raced past the man, but he grabbed hold of Harry's backpack and then grabbed his collar. Harry cried in pain, but he shivered, whimpering with fear as the man felt his bum and then worked its way around to his groin. "STOP! HELP! GET OFF OF ME!"
"Shut up!" The man smacked him across the face.
Face smarting from the pain, Harry's anger rose. It had been sparked by the man's sudden appearance and during the conversation/pleas, and now it was boiling away inside of him. The man didn't even see it coming. He was catapulted ten-twenty-thirty feet away, and he slammed into a brick wall. Dazed the man lifted his head after a minute, and he gazed at the young boy. The child was tiny and not a physical threat, and he knew he could have taken the boy easily. He had been desperate for cash for a while, and he had thought he had found it in the form of this little boy.
Except this was not a normal boy by any definition. There was a strange wind rippling around the child, and his short limbs were tensed, but the most terrifying thing was the demonic way his eyes - gorgeous, emerald green eyes that would give the kid a cute, exotic look - were glowing, while his jaw was twisted in a feral manner.
The man barely had time to scream as the boy lifted his hand, flicking it before everything went dark-
Harry was still as he gazed down at the corpse of the man who'd attacked and molested him, unable to believe what he'd just done. Using his powers to unlock doors was one thing, but he had never used them to kill anybody before. Harry looked around in case there was someone else, some witness, but he couldn't see one, so he ran off ignoring his hunger in his panic so he could reach the station. He didn't stop until he had gotten onto the platform at Little Whinging station. Panting heavily, Harry took a seat on the cold metal bench, and he tried to process what he'd just done while he checked the timetable. He had an hour before the next train arrived. Good. He needed the time to think.
He had murdered someone with his powers. In self-defence, yes, but he had still murdered someone…and yet, he felt nothing. The man had tried to turn him into some kind of sex toy, destroying him in the process. He had deserved it.
From that moment forwards, Harry James Potter changed. He would become more untrusting, and more violent.
In the following weeks when he took to the streets of London after the train reached the city, entering a police station the moment he arrived so he could get into foster care, Harry led a double life while he lashed out at anyone so much as looking at him strangely, and would find themselves with a broken hand or leg. In secret, he learnt how to pick people's pockets while living in the home. Frequently he would leave and spend hours stealing money from wallets before returning. If there was one thing he had learnt from the Dursleys, it was you had to take care of yourself. Harry occasionally had to deal with some other kids who tried to muscle in on his patch. Only for them to go away with severe injuries. The police and the hospitals later heard increasing rumours of a very violent child, a small boy who seemed to have superhuman abilities like strength and agility, not to mention speed.
Over two years, muggers and young adults with a history of violence and drug smuggling turned up dead. And they weren't the only ones. A vigilante was in London, and it wasn't long before robbers targeting families, rapists, and many others were found dead. Their bodies were some of the goriest things ever, and some even wondered if the vigilante was inspired by horror movies.
Those rumours went hand in hand with other stories, about a strange burglar who broke into restaurants, cafes, shops and jewellery stores and took whatever they could find. They called this burglar the Ghost. Others called the burglar the Magician, while other names like the Invisible Man floated around. Few even considered the possibility the burglar and the strange vigilante were the same, and nobody even thought it might be a kid.
In the meantime, Harry Potter did not care what people said or thought about him. After the mugger attacked him, Harry developed For the next two years, Harry spent his time moving around the city, stealing whatever he could find, and buying himself what he needed to survive.
In the meantime, Harry vowed to never be hopeless ever again. As he continued to experiment with his powers, Harry learnt he could create knives of different sizes and types, and he often used them as he hunted down rapists and muggers. He wasn't doing it for them, he was doing it because he had nearly been attacked himself. In only a month, so many people were terrified of the vigilante they stopped going out completely. In the meantime, Harry continued with his double life where he played the part of a diligent schoolboy living in a foster home while going out and stealing money and dealing out his own brand of justice.
