Hi, welcome to the first fanfic I've ever posted. This fic is inspired by the tabletop RPG Hunter the Vigil. It inspires some ideas I want to add to the story, but the focus will stay on the main subjects.
Epilogue
It was a dark and stormy night on Privet Drive. The sounds of a crying child echoed throughout the air, sharp and heartbreaking, mixed with the angry ranting of one Vernon Dursley, an overweight man with a temper. In the dim light of the kitchen, Petunia Dursley paced with anger and frustration. She was thin with a sneer plastered on her face. Her feet made load clip snaps with every turn, eyes glancing to her husband, standing in the doorway blocking the sight beyond him with his body screaming at a confused and scared black-haired two-year-old child with bright green eyes and a lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead. Who curled up inside his cupboard under the stairs. Harry Potter, the boy who lived, cried loudly, backing further into the darkness, a bright red welt blemishing his cheek from where his uncle had backhanded the small child. "I told you, Freak, you are to say in there unless I let you OUT!" Vernon ranted loudly and with venom lacing his words, clenching his fist, face purple with rage. Harry let out a whimpered, confused noise. He was hungry, and the door was open. All he did was walk into the kitchen and ask his aunt for food. He was struck across the face hard and thrown from the doorway, crumpling in a heap.
Harry's cupboard door slammed shut with a mighty crash, shaking on its hinges, and he could hear the locks latching with a deafening set of clicks. Vernon and Petunia never opened the cupboard again that night, leaving a hungry, hurt, and scared Harry to sit in darkness and cry himself to sleep, whimpering about how he didn't understand. The following day, Harry awoke from his fitful rest filled with memories of his uncle's attack with a jump as said tormentor banged on the door hard with his fat fist. "Wake up, worthless freak!" The obese man threw the locks open and reached into the small cupboard to grab Harry dragging him out. "Listen to me, Boy. You are going to get into that car and keep quiet."Uncle Vernon ground out in a threat as he pulled Harry out the front door. Harry meekly nodded at the man.
It was still dark out; the rain was still pouting around them. Billowing storm clouds rolled over the sky. Soaked from the rain in the rags of cloth, Harry's hand-me-downs from his cousin. Once Herry was pushed into the car's back seat, dripping wet and cold, Vernon took off like a bat out of hell of the neighborhood. He drove around in circles and took turns every chance he could, the whole time ranting about how he would never let a freak like Harry live under the same roof as his child or besmirch his good name by raising Herry. Harry was too dazed to notice what was happening and too young to comprehend the words and hate flowing from his uncle's mouth. The drive was short, going by in a blur.
The car pulled up to a park outside London not an hour later. Vernon got out of the car and, with a vindictive and sadistic grin, opened Harry's door. "Get out and go play. I'll pick you up later." his words were forced and strained. Harry was confused, then happy, he never got to play like his cousin, and maybe he did good by staying in his cupboard all night. With a grin that could melt the polar caps, Harry thanked his uncle, then Harry ran into the early morning light that peaked under the pink hues of the clouds, still showering the lands with rain, towards a set of swings with a happy smile that for once was caused by his uncle. After hours with all the toys, from the slides to the seesaws collecting a few scraps and bruises as he played with abandon, Harry got bored and started to look around for his uncle, ready to go home. Fear began to set in an hour later as Harry couldn't find his uncle anywhere. His car was gone, and with no idea what to do now, he started walking along the sidewalk alone. It was mid-morning now, and the rain had slowed down to a drizzle. As the day moves ever forward, Harry finds himself sitting on a bench outside a library under a street lamp. That is how the bobbies found him curled up in a ball, silently weeping on the bench. After asking Harry where his parents are and finding out, they are dead from Harry's few short words, he spooks them, remembering that his uncle always told him never to talk to the police.
Harry was in rags and looking underfed. The cops surmised that he was homeless and brought him to the station. It took hours of coaching to get Harry to talk about his uncle and aunt, and even then, he struggled to respond. His words seem strained and full of fear to the police. Harry never knew that after being put in the system, his uncle and aunt were arrested for child endangerment and abuse. Harry spent the next three long months in an orphanage. Till one day, his life changed beyond compensation. While at the orphanage, Harry had his first magical outburst due to being bullied by a group of older kids the same day Specialist Robert Gorgon was jogging through the area. Robert Gorgon, an American-born squib, felt the magic in the area. Three days later, Robert walked out of the orphanage with Harry Potter, now June Gorgon, with plans to return to America together. All it took was a single phone call, and the two were boarding a Boeing C-17 Globemaster III out of RAF Fairford bound for their new home. Strapped in tightly and full of excitement June Gorgon was ready to start his new life with the drive only a two-year-old could have. It would be years until the young boy heard the name Harry Potter again.
