Truths Revealed

Truths Revealed -9-

The spotless living room was empty. Sirius, being the inquisitive, impatient person he was went to stand in the little hallway leading to the dinner table. Vernon was sitting at the table, reading the newspaper. His son was sitting on the high chair next to him, making a mess out of his baby cereal, screaming his lungs out.

"Don't touch that, you little freak!" Sirius' head snapped up, turning to the kitchen counter.

Petunia had all but whacked a much, much younger, shorter Harry on the head with her wooden spatula. Harry whimpered softly, covering the spot with both his hands in an attempt to curb the stinging pain.

"How dare you touch the food I was making for my little Diddykins?" Sirius fought the urge to be sick.

"S-sowwy, A'n' 'Tunia." Young Harry's voice was small, fearful of what would happen next. Sirius' arm tightened unconsciously around the older boy.

"You better be, Harry Potter, or I'll make sure you're in your cupboard for a whole month!" Petunia snapped.

Cupboard?! Sirius bristled, but only held Harry close to him, knowing it had to be hard for the teen.

"A'n' 'Tunia?" Harry asked timidly. She glared at him for a moment, before jerking her head in approval.

"Who'v Hawwy Potter?" Sirius couldn't help the feral growl that sprang to his lips, unbidden yet welcomed.

"You are, you little freak! And I wouldn't have told you if you weren't going to the local preschool tomorrow! Freaks like you don't deserve names, understand?!"

The small raven boy just nodded, apparently trying to digest the fact that he had just been given a name.

Sirius was furious. Judging by the looks, the two young boys should be around four or five! How could a child that age not know their own name? Or in this case, not know that they even had their own name? He had to resolve something right away.

"Harry?" The warm weight against his chest nodded.

"How old were you when this happened?" Sirius thought he wouldn't get a reply, but he did.

"Five." It was a bare whisper of acknowledgement, and Harry found that once he consented to speak, he couldn't stop. The hatred and anger and fear all spilled out like a torrent of emotions, as he explained the scene. "I never knew that I had a name before that. I didn't think I had one. They always said I never even deserved a life, so I used to think I didn't deserve one. That's the only time Petunia even used my name. Sometimes I used to think, later on, if I hadn't tried to look into the pan, she wouldn't have told me when she did. They only sent me to the preschool because Dudley told his friends about me. That they could make me do whatever they wanted. It was right, in a way. His parents never stopped it. They didn't mind what happened to me anyway, they wanted me dead. I even wanted to die sometimes, a nameless nobody that I'd always been made to see myself as. It's not like anyone would have noticed that I was gone anyway."

"You're nothing like what they've said." If Sirius could, he would have dragged the younger Harry into a hug, but he had to make do with the older version. "You're the only reason, I found life worth living after that hell they call Azkaban. I don't think I ever truly forgave Remus, Dumbledore, anyone. But I know that you - I never doubted you. You were my lifeline."

Harry couldn't say anything. The memory wasn't necessarily a bad one, but he hated it anyway. So he simply nodded against Sirius' chest, grateful that his godfather hadn't made him actually watch the scene. He wasn't sure he could take any more tension.

The scene faded out, and black smoke swirled as they were led to another memory of a slightly older Harry.