Thanks a lot for the reviews^^
Here's a new chapter for you to enjoy :)

TW: description of physical abuse (although not of the abuse itself)

I lasted a week before venturing out again at night. My comings and goings to the garden had piqued my cousin's curiosity, and I had to outmanoeuvre two clumsy attempts at being followed by him and his friends. Fortunately, I noticed them early enough to avoid compromising my refuge. However, I feared they would eventually realise that, given his size, Dudley could hardly pass for a lamppost's shadow, and that he and his gang might find better ways to discover where I spent my time. That was the rational reason behind limiting my excursions to times when the moon was at its highest. The other reason was that I missed the euphoria and freedom of the night—it called to me. I think my memories grew more beautiful each evening, making me long for the outside. And so, after a week, I waited for the Dursleys to fall asleep, dressed silently, put on my shoes, and slipped away through the back door—the exit, for me.

For a month, I ventured out more and more frequently under the cover of darkness. I felt invincible and so clever… No one had figured out my routine; no one knew about the secret freedom I alone possessed. My refuge had remained undiscovered, and my cousin's slow-witted brain and his gang of thick-headed friends had entirely dismissed the suspicions my repeated trips to the garden had once aroused in them.

Two weeks before the Christmas holidays, I was forced to wake from my illusion of safety and strength. I made a mistake. Oh, nothing major. I simply returned a little late from the garden—or rather, very early—and in my exhaustion, I forgot to lock the back door. Worse still, I left my soaked shoes outside my cupboard to dry (it had rained recently, and I had stepped into several puddles, invisible in the dark). It would have had no consequence had I woken up as early as usual. But given how late I had gone to bed, I was still asleep when my aunt got up and went downstairs to the kitchen.

At first, she didn't pay much attention to the shoes outside my cupboard, even though it was unusual. No, it was when she stepped outside to check if the previous night's rain had damaged her flowers that she noticed the unlocked door. And when you live as meticulously as Aunt Petunia, you immediately notice such unusual details—you know they are never the result of mere human forgetfulness. She checked every door and window every night since the neighbours across the street had been burgled. She thought quickly. Vernon would never have left through the back door—it would have been beneath him. Dudley neither, especially since her precious darling would never dare to wander alone in the dark house. No, only one person in this household could have done it.

I was woken by sharp knocks on my cupboard door and opened it to find my aunt standing on the threshold, dangerously calm.

"Harry?" she asked in an unnervingly even voice. "Could you tell me why the back door was open this morning? Did you go out last night without permission?"

I was caught off guard. And yet, at that moment, I could still have talked my way out of it. But in a panic-induced reflex, my eyes flicked toward my soaked shoes. They had only been there a few hours, and since I hadn't untied the laces when I took them off, they must still have been damp…

What had to happen, happened. Following my gaze, my aunt seized the shoes—and realised everything in an instant.

oOo

"Good evening, Minerva. You requested a meeting with me as soon as possible... May I deduce, given your urgency and your outraged expression, that despite my advice, you have returned to see young Potter?"

"Nothing escapes you, Albus."

"And you are going to ask me again—pardon me, demand—that I remove him from the Dursleys' care?"

"Before that, I will first tell you what I saw and experienced. Perhaps then you will understand why this boy must not remain there."

"Very well, I am listening," said Dumbledore, adopting an attentive expression.

"That child is alone. The other children around him persecute him. His only refuge is an abandoned garden he discovered while trying to escape them. He returned there at night, with me... Albus, he really does take after James in some ways... What exhilaration it was for him to run under the moon!"

"So, you cannot deny that he knows happiness."

"These are merely stolen moments from his life! Albus, he does not even know who his parents were. His aunt tells him they were drunkards who died in a car accident!"

"Given that he knows nothing of magic and the disdain these Muggles express towards him, I did not expect any better."

"He has the right to know that his parents were heroes! They died to save his life, not in some foolish Muggle pile-up!" Minerva's voice took on a contemptuous tone.

"He will have plenty of time to learn that when he arrives at Hogwarts next year."

"You intend to throw him into this world with no preparation whatsoever? Albus, this is not serious!"

"He will manage. I believe he has already proven that he can face adversity. But if this concerns you so much, perhaps we could consider a concession..."

"What kind of concession?"

"Perhaps you could take charge of him for a week before the start of term, to teach him what he needs to know about the wizarding world?"

"You cannot be serious—me?"

"It seems to me that you care deeply about his future and that you believe it necessary to prepare him for Hogwarts."

"That is true; he must be prepared."

"Then it is settled. You are a professor, and your task will be to teach young Potter some fundamental aspects of wizarding culture during the week before he starts at Hogwarts."

"Very well."

The proud and formidable witch turned on her heel and left the headmaster's office, satisfied with her work. It was only once outside that she realised that by accepting the concession, she had, by the same token, agreed to leave Harry Potter in the hands of the Muggles for the rest of the year.

oOo

That night, I was unable to fall asleep. My whole body ached. Upon returning from work, my uncle Vernon had learned of my escapade. For the first time, he had actually beaten me up. He had brought me to the basement and undone his belt. Once he had been done, he had thrown me back inside my cupboard without healing me. Now, the blood was starting to dry slowly all over my body. It had also stained the sheets, probably.

It was not until the following afternoon that Aunt Petunia let me out of my prison, stiff and sore. As she saw me emerge, she seemed on the verge of saying something, but her anger steeled her, and she merely ordered me to shower before instructing me to wash my clothes.

From that moment on, my cupboard was locked every night, and I could no longer return to the garden for fear that my refuge would be discovered. Moreover, I had far too much work to slip away unnoticed.

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed :)
Next chapter will be longer again, but I think I'll try to post an update of my main fic before translating the next one for you. It still should come relatively soon!
Reviews? Please :D