This was probably going to come out tomorrow or Thursday, but a cougar was screaming like a stabbing victim outside my house last night, couldn't get any sleep until one in the morning. So I decided to try and belt this out as fast as I could, so congratulations! You get to reap the benefits of my midnight terrors! : )

Harry and Saul didn't speak again for a long time after that last day of August in the summer of nineteen eighty-six, and life returned to the familiar pattern of the previous year before he had met him. School started again, though with the addition of remedial classes to Harry's schedule after he began fudging his grades to better reflect on Dudley's performance. After all, life was much easier when the Dursleys weren't screaming at him for purposefully showing up their son. Speaking of Dudley, he and his friends had taken up bullying Harry again, only they made sure to always do so within the confines of the school property and with a head turned behind their backs as though wary the Wrench would come out from the shadows to rain down vengeance upon them. Harry couldn't bring himself to care.

He went to school, handled Dudley's friends, did his chores, and slept in his cupboard day in and day out. Rarely did he leave the house to go anywhere else, as he feared to cross paths with Saul again. At first, he had been too angry to speak to him, but as days turned into weeks the anger ebbed away and he started to think about what Saul had said. He told himself that he didn't go back to the barn because he was afraid that Saul would clobber him if he saw him again, but if he was truthful with himself, the reason was that he was scared that he had lost the only person who had stood up for him in the world. To Harry, it was better to ignore it and pretend that there was still hope to mend their friendship than to face the music and given disappointment.

Honestly, he felt shame for treating his only friends as he had, knowing he had been unfair to bring up Saul's parents to use against him. It had been easier to lash out than to consider that Saul might have been right, but he didn't want to believe what Saul had said about his relatives. Though he consciously knew that they didn't treat him the same way other children were by their guardians, his hope for a family that would love him kept him from thinking ill of them.

Those hopes would be dashed against the rocks on the evening of Christmas Eve.

-/ↀ\-

The first sign that something was going to go wrong was when his uncle Vernon stepped in from the billowing cold of a Southern England winter on Christmas Eve in a foul mood. He took off his coat and in a churlish tone demanded Harry put it up for him as he plopped his lumbering mass onto his favorite chair in the living room. Petunia heard him come in from the kitchen as she prepared the Christmas dinner -the family always ate a hearty meal on Christmas Eve and an even bigger one on Christmas Day- sauntering into the den to greet her husband, Vernon began ranting about the woes coming down at his work.

It turned out that Grunnings had suffered a repeat loss in production efficiency for the past three quarters, leading to a drop in profits. Therefore, the board of the company decided to issue a round of layoffs for the sales and floor departments to pump new blood into the company. Vernon had been saved by the skin of his teeth due to his relative success with clients, but his somewhat bouncy record and the overall turmoil inside the company insured that his ambitions to rise up in the ranks were indefinitely put on hold.

Petunia fretted over her husband before going to the kitchen to get him a tumbler of brandy while dragging Harry inside with her. She made up Vernon's drink and held it in one hand while pointing a boney finger into Harry's face.

"Listen here boy and listen good! I'll need to deal with Vernon to calm his nerves tonight, so I can't keep my eye on the ham as I would like. You watch that ham and don't let it burn! I'll not have you spoil our dinner or so help me!" She left the threat hanging as she turned and marched into the living room, leaving Harry to try and manage a full Christmas dinner.

Biting back a remark about why he had to do all the work while Dudley got to play in his room, Harry eyed the work ahead with a sense of unease. Petunia had only just begun to teach him the basics of cooking the previous month, leaving him a novice left in charge of what was probably the most important meal the Dursleys had all year. To say he wasn't confident that he could handle it would be an understatement as he was indeed panicking a little at the task ahead. Ham, roasted potatoes, bread and plum puddings, mince pies, the works!

Harry did his best to keep everything in order, steering, basting, and tasting to add the basic spices he had been instructed to add to dishes in the past. But again, he was only six, and Petunia had been foolish to give such a responsibility to someone with as little experience as him. So it was by no means a surprise that while he was trying to determine whether the ham was finished that he noticed the gravy starting to boil over, and it all unraveled from there.

So concerned with juggling the various sides and preventing a mess in the kitchen, he didn't notice the ham slowly turning darker and darker. Smoke began to fill the kitchen, so it wasn't long before Petunia came barreling into the kitchen.

"What on earth is going on in here?!" Petunia shrieked.

Harry choked as she strode over pushing him out of the way, sputtering when she was met with a blast of heat and smoke when she opened the oven door. She angrily ripped the door down pointing her finger at the chard meat as she grabbed him by the shoulder.

"It's ruined! I told you to watch it so it wouldn't burn! How hard was that to understand, you stupid boy?!" Petunia screamed in his face, her nails digging into his flesh causing his eyes to water.

"I… I'm sorry…" Harry whimpered, feeling useless under her glare. He feebly tried to loosen her hold on his arm, desperation rising from the pit of his stomach as he wished that everything could be made right.

And that's when it happened.

One moment the kitchen was filled with the burning smoke of a ruined dinner, and the next it was replaced by the smell of a five-star restaurant. Petunia let go of his arm started by the change of atmosphere, staring in bewilderment at the kitchen table that had all the appeal and trimming of a proper Christmas Eve dinner.

Petunia started screaming.

The moment he heard Aunt Petunia's shrill voice Harry froze in terror. His fear was realized when a moment later his uncle burst into the kitchen looking this way and that, irritated by all the noise.

"What happened?!" Vernon demanded.

"V-Vernon! H-H-He did it! One of his freaky things!" Petunia stammered fearfully, staring down at Harry as though he were a leper. Vernon's face for a moment turned pale, then immediately transitioned to a reddish-purple hue as the words worked him up into a rage.

"BOY!" Harry recoiled as Vernon bellowed like a raging bull, lunging forward to grab the boy by the scruff of the neck as he pulled him out of the kitchen into the main hallway.

"Haven't I given you enough thrashings for you to have sunk into that dimwitted mug of yours?! I will not tolerate that-that freakishness in my house!" Vernon dragged him toward the cupboard even as he tugged at his belt, loosening and slipping it off to clutch in his outstretched hand.

"I-I'm sorry! I don't know how-!" Harry whimpered out, a spray of spit flying from his mouth as Vernon's hand slapped him across the face.

"Don't lie to me, boy! It'll only make it worse for you!" Vernon shouted even as he brought his meaty hand down into a strike against Harry's temple. Harry fell to the floor of the hall clutching his head, only to yelp in pain when his uncle brought his belt down onto his exposed back.

"Cast your freaky nonsense on our food! Sought to poison us, did ya?!" Vernon accused, his drunken mind assuming the very worst motivation behind the strange phenomena which Harry had supposedly performed. Vernon bellowed as he struck down with the belt again and again, blow after blow, even as Harry instinctively curled into himself crying.

"What were you hoping for? Hmm? Us to choke on the pudding?! Maybe you should see how it feels, then you'll think twice before pulling such a thing again!" Vernon picked Harry up by his hair, electing a pained cry from the boy that was cut short as he threw him against the cupboard door and wrapped his meaty palms against his throat.

Harry's eyes bugged out even as he started to choke, desperately gasping for air as he slapped his hand against Vernon's arm. Rage had overcome the man's mind, alcohol clouding his judgment, so when Harry made his weak attempt to get him to let go he took it as a challenge and began to squeeze harder, drawing out a choked squeal from the boy.

Harry was confused, scared, and couldn't breathe. The fight in him was being drained away the tighter uncle's grip on his neck became, and the blows he delivered against Vernon's arm began to tire. The corners of his vision were growing dark even as his eyes began to roll up into his head.

"Vernon!"

Just as he thought he was going to pass out, Petunia's shocked and shrill voice echoed through the kitchen doorway, and Vernon loosened his grasp as he looked up at her dumbly.

"Pet? What-?" He blubbered, his voice gasping and slurred, as he had exerted himself while swinging the belt around.

"What do you think you're doing?! Get your hands off his neck!" Petunia demanded, a hint of horror marring her face as she took in the sight of Vernon trying to squeeze the life out of the six-year-old.

"But I–!" Vernon began, confusion ringing in his eyes even as he was cut off by Petunia.

"My God, Vernon, I know the freak ruined our dinner, but that's going too far. Think of what they'll do to us!" She reasoned, her eyes shifting around as if expecting someone to pop up at any moment.

Petunia's vague mention of these proverbial 'others' seemed to be the very thing needed to penetrate through the fog around his mind that the brandy had made. For the first time, Vernon seemed to become aware of what he was actually doing and slowly removed his hands from around Harry's neck. Harry slumped to his side, heaving for air as he rubbed his neck, unable to even form tears as his young mind had trouble processing what had happened, both from confusion and a lack of oxygen.

Vernon looked between his wife and the boy, his mind slowly processing what to do. He heard a shift coming from the stairway, looking up to see his son who had come to see what had caused the commotion, looking upon them both with wide, somewhat fearful eyes. It was that which did the most to dispel much of his rage, dialing it down to a hot simmer.

He hated the boy for bringing out the worst in him, for having to put up with his freakishness and set forth an image that frightened his little boy. While he couldn't remove the brat from his home permanently, he also couldn't stand him being in the same house as his family. However, he felt that if he didn't do something, he might snap again and he wasn't sure Petunia would be able to reason with him next time. And if that happened his family would be in a world of trouble.

Still angry, Vernon did the only thing his inhibited mind could rationally do, picking Harry by the back of his shirt and dragging him to the front door. Harry found himself suddenly thrown from the house and onto the snow-covered lawn, spluttering as he turned and saw Vernon slamming the door closed.

"No!" Harry cried as he scrambled to his feet, clawing and banging against the door even as he heard the lock and door latch being slid into place.

Harry shivered as the cold of the English winter settled against his skin. He began to think of where he could go. The shed behind the house might work, but it was poorly insulated and he was sure to catch his death in there among Vernon's tools. Mrs. Figg's was a no-go, as she had left town to visit family for the holidays. There was one other place he could turn to, but…

Wrapping his arms around his waist to try and conserve heat, Harry steadily made up his mind. Not knowing where else to turn, Harry braved the hour-long trek toward the one place he might be able to find shelter.

He only hoped he didn't freeze to death before he could tell Saul he was sorry.

-/ↀ\-

Harry fought his way through the countryside as the harsh wind cut into his face like cold knives. Just a little further! Just a little further! His tired mind repeated like a mantra, even as he tripped over himself to land face-first into the frozen ground. It had taken him over two hours to find his way in the direction he was supposed to go, his young body had alright gone nub as the winter chill penetrated the thin fabric.

Harry maneuvered through a thickened of trees when he tripped over a root, smacking his chin down on a stone. The taste of copper filled his mouth as he bit down on his tongue. Groaning in pain, Harry lifted up his head and saw light ahead.

Just a little further. He repeated, tripping over himself as he traversed the field, thumping into the wood with his shoulder in his exhaustion. With all the remaining strength he had Harry rapted against the door desperately, the cold catching up to him as he slumped against the frame into the snow.

"S-S-Saul…" He moaned through chattering teeth, slipping into unconsciousness. The last thing he was aware of before darkness took him was a light that pierced through the fog upon his mind, and a shadow descending upon him.

-/ↀ\-

Darkness became interchangeable with light as Harry slipped in and out of consciousness, where each passing hour was indistinguishable from the next. At times it felt like there was someone beside him, but it was hard to distinguish whether the feeling was true to reality or induced by his fever.

Days passed before he began to recover, the fever coming down through cold sweats and feelings of vertigo. His eyes peered open every so often, slowly becoming aware of the warm cushions of a bed that he was settled under.

Harry steered, blinking owlishly through blurred vision around the room. He couldn't see where he was thanks to his missing pair of glasses, and his mind was still in a post-fever haze to be able to remember where exactly he had been before passing out. He felt like hell, soreness enveloping his joints and muscles as he shifted uncomfortably beneath a heavy blanket, while something wet was draped over his forehead.

His movement seemed to have alerted the fact that he was awake, as a blob ducked in their head from around a corner to look in on him. The blob moved over to him, the shape taking a slightly familiar form as it drew near.

"S-Saul?" He sounded, his throat sore and dry. The older boy reached over to the nightstand next to the bed to pick up a glass of water, raising it to Harry's lips to allow him to drink.

"Hey, kid. How's it hangin'?" Saul said gently as he took the cup away.

"What… why?" Harry mumbled, his eyes looking up at him in blank confusion.

Saul seemed to understand why Harry was having trouble identifying where he was, so began to fill him in on the gritty details, "You've been out for three days. Had a fever for most of it. I was worried for a while there, especially having to keep you warm when you'd start shiverin'." Saul reached over and grabbed a pair of wireframe glasses, "Here, put these back on."

Saul slid them against Harry's nose, the smaller boy blinking as his world finally came into focus. Nodding in satisfaction, Saul pulled the cloth from Harry's forehead and dipped it into the water, soaking up the cold liquid before applying it back against the boy's skin. Harry felt immediate relief as the cool cloth worked to bring down the heat radiating inside his head.

"What the hell happened, man?" Saul breathed after a moment, his eyes focused on the dark bruises lining the skin of the boy's neck.

Harry lifted his hand to his throat, cringing at the tenderness he felt even as his memories came flooding back. He looked down in shame, feeling guilt for the fight they had had before, for not listening to Saul's warning then. Harry shuttered, his mind dwelling on what that mistake had almost cost.

"You were right." Harry answered bitterly, drawing his finger across the line of bruises formed, "He had his hands right here. If… if aunt Petunia hadn't…"

Harry stopped, his voice cracking as he was overwhelmed with emotion. His young mind had a hard time processing the facts of what had happened on Christmas Eve. He had never thought that it would ever go so far. He had experienced Vernon's belt plenty of times, the hatred he had seen before. But the fear, that had been something new, something he now knew he hated. He ate at him in a way he couldn't understand, but his only family feared him, and it shook him to his core.

"I… I just wanted them to like me. W-Why is that so hard?" Harry choked, the tears flowing freely as everything that had happened hit home at once, "No matter what I do, I'm never good enough! I'm always the runt, always the freak!"

"Why can't I have a family who cares for me, Saul? Why don't they love me?" He blubbered, looking up at his only friend with misty eyes. "Am I cursed?"

Saul looked torn up inside, having hoped to keep the young lad from experiencing this feeling, desperate to help guide him through it.

"No Harry, you're not cursed. You've just been dealt a bad hand." He reassured, growling at the thought of Harry's relatives, "Ya can't blame yourself for their hangups. fuck 'em, I say."

Harry looked down sadly, "You wouldn't understand…"

Saul frowned, clamping down on his growing frustration as he truly empathized with what Harry was going through. Letting the silence hang, he seemed to contemplate how best to respond. He ultimately concluded that speaking from experience was the most favorable way forward.

"Sometimes, people enter our lives that we wish wouldn't have. Sometimes the people who are supposed to care are the ones who hurt instead." Saul spoke as though he had experienced this very paradox before, however with a grin, he added, "But sometimes, people come along who are closer to being family the those who share our blood."

"We can't always choose the people in our lives, but we can choose who gets to matter in it." Saul looked at Harry, considering the boy before looking him straight in the eyes to make sure his point was understood, "If ya don't let the right people in, ya have no one to blame but yourself."

Harry indeed to what Saul was telling him to heart, but it didn't alleviate the pain he felt. For so long he had wanted the approval of the Dursleys, to make them treat him as though he mattered. But the truth was that he was holding on to a fool's hope. The Dursleys were simply awful people, and they would never accept him as family. That truth hurt more than the beatings ever had.

But it wasn't as though Harry was alone in the world. By the turning card of chance, he had found someone who accepted him for being himself, someone who was willing to offer him a helping hand. The fact that he had lashed out at the offered hand filled him with resentment toward himself, but Harry could only feel astonishment that the hand was still there regardless.

Harry mustered his strength to lean up and wrap his arms around Saul in a hug, a mumbled sorry vibrating into the older boy's shoulder. Saul smiled and clapped him on his shoulder, the two boys feeling relief to be together as friends once more.

-/ↀ\-

Harry's road to recovery left him bedridden until New Year's Eve, but in that time the boys talked, making up for lost time. They began to plot how they were going to get Harry out of the Dursley household, as it soon became obvious that the move would be easier said than done.

While Saul figured that his relatives wouldn't care two shits if he up and disappeared one day, a point that Harry was pained to agree with, the simple fact of the matter was that Saul's setup wasn't sufficient to support the both of them. Saul struggled even now to maintain the basic components that made life bearable in the barn.

However, Harry's suggestion was to team up to steal the supplies and parts necessary to improve upon the equipment Saul already possessed, as well as adding new appliances that he didn't yet have access to. Saul was agreeable to Harry's observation that a working toilet would do wonders for making the winters better. Progress to his setup had been slow due to only being able to get away with so much on his own, a prime example being the hell he had to go through to distract the dog guarding the junkyard he regularly pillaged just to get away with a bag of scrap.

Harry also believed that he could get away with swiping the occasional tool from the Dursleys, reasoning that it was only fair that they provided him with something for once in their lives. Added to that, Harry knew from cleaning Dudley's room that his cousin had a mountain of cash littered around his rooms, as he had no want to buy anything as his parents tended to cave to his every fleeting desire.

Sadly, the day soon came when Harry had to return to the Dursleys, knowing if only to work to enact their plans. As he was leaving to trudge his way back to town, now with a worn heavy coat and pants to keep him from coming down with another cold, Saul shoved a leather-bound book into his curious hands.

"I want ya to keep a record of everything they've done to ya. One day when you're ready we'll take it to a lawyer or somethin'." Saul explained, a shark-like sneer prickling the edge of his lips, "We'll nail those bastards, even if we have to wait until we're grown to go after them. They don't get to get away with what they did to ya."

Harry was reluctant at first, feeling embarrassed at the prospect of exposing his dirty laundry to a court of law, but Saul convinced him it was the only way to make sure the Dursley got what was coming to them.

Harry left the barn, trudging his way through the snow back to Little Whinging. He went with his head held higher than he had ever before, looking forward to the day he would leave his miserable life behind.

-/ↀ\-

There you have it! I hope you enjoyed, please Read and Review.

Shoutout to my friend AlexWoundedSide, who I helped post his reviews. I'm happy that you enjoyed listening to my story so far!