Due to the overwhelmingly high amount of comments, all of which were lovely, here's an update for all of you. You guys are the absolute best.
{Trigger warnings for this chapter: mentions of abuse, torture, death.}
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Harry didn't expect his life to ever turn out this way. Then again, he reckoned no one really did. Most imagined doing what they loved, married with a family, rich or at least well off, happy. No one imagined living their lives in an old, dark home people believe is haunted, or looked at as a freak to the people they do encounter. His life was different, when he was younger. He had hope, had a future, and all of that was ripped away from him.
The bitter resentment still boiled and festered inside of him.
And after years and years of everything, he had begun to grow hard, angry, and hopeless. He began lashing out at those that feared him, those that saw him as a freak. Attacking, killing people who trespassed, ripping away their lives like someone had done so long ago with him.
He had a pretty normal childhood, up until the year he turned 7. Leading up to that point, it was normal. Both his parents had jobs, they ate normally and never went hungry. He had an older sister, named Gemma, and she was absolutely brilliant. Everyone had known about her, the 'genius Styles girl' was what she was commonly referred to. People claim she would change Britain, save it. Harry always had faith in her.
But then unemployment went up again, jobs were laying people off, and despite their hard work and dedication, Harry's parents were two of the many that also lost their jobs that year. It gave being hungry a new definition. They couldn't afford their home, couldn't afford food, and couldn't afford clothes for their rapidly growing children. That lasted for months, and finally, something happened.
Harry had just turned 7 when his father came home with a smile on his face. It was a first in such a long time that Harry couldn't help but feel excited for whatever opportunity his father had found. He had announced that he had been given an offer, one that would bring a lot of money to the family, would save them, feed them, clothe them, put a roof over their heads, and allow them to live. But he never once mentioned what it was, not to any of them. He walked over to his wife, and whispered excitedly with her. She didn't look too happy to Harry, in fact she looked angry. They had begun to argue, and Gemma had taken her brother and sat in the corner of the small one room home that they had been staying in for a while, covering his ears with a soft smile on her face.
Their parents had reached an agreement before their children went to sleep, knowing that no matter what, this would be the only thing to save them.
Harry should have known then that something was wrong. He didn't though.
It was early the next morning when he was woken up, so early that the sun had just woken up. His father was the one to wake him, while that in itself was rare, Harry hadn't connected the dots. His father had said just to let Gemma sleep, told him not to wake her before they left, but Harry couldn't just leave without a hug from his sister.
Gemma however had connected the dots, when she was awoken by small gentle hands and her little brother whispering in her ear. She had understood enough then. She had hugged her brother tight, had asked him not to go, to stay home and play with her. But Harry had been promised an adventure, and that prospect had been too exciting for the little 7 year old to give up. She had hugged him and told him to be safe, that she would see him for dinner. All she had thought was that he would be given to someone for a few hours, her friends had to do stuff like that for their parents, but none of them liked that. They said it hurt, that it was gross. She figured not telling her brother would be best, she would just have to be there to pick up the pieces when he got home.
Harry left that morning clutching his father's hand, a wide smile on his face.
It finally clicked with him when he was being handed over to a man in neat clothes, a smirk on his face, while his father was handed a thick envelope that he took gently. It truly clicked when Harry saw the look of guilt on his father's face, when his father bent down and told him that he was sorry, that Harry had to be brave, that he was saving his family by going with this man. Harry cried when his father turned and left, his last words echoing through his head. 'I love you, be strong.' Harry didn't scream, he didn't cry or sob, or ask his father to turn around, because he knew he wouldn't. That money was more important to him than Harry was.
The man it turned out was not the person Harry would be staying with, not the person who really wanted Harry. He was a middle man of sorts, someone who found struggling families and offered a lot of money for anyone they were willing to sell. Harry had never even learned his name. He had- not too nicely- put Harry into his car, and had driven off somewhere. The place they had stopped was a nice looking office building, with wire fencing around it. It looked almost like the school he had attended, with a wire fence around it and men with guns walking around.
He was led inside, and made to strip and shower and then was given clothes to wear. They were bland, grey scrubs, that were remarkably more comfortable then his too small clothing that was more stains and rips than actual clothing. He was introduced to a man that introduced himself as Dr. Smith.
Dr. Smith was a man with very little tolerance and too many rules. He loved order, and he loved to hurt people. He was someone dedicated to finding the future, creating the future. Someone that would do anything to move forward, to reach the top and stay there. He was so busy finding the future he didn't even see the present.
Dr. Smith was someone that Harry was immediately frightened of, and acted accordingly. There wasn't much of a conversation, just the doctor barking questions and Harry whimpering the answers as the doctor walked around him like a predator to prey. He was allowed to leave minutes later, a guard in all black escorting him to his 'room', a small prison like cell that held two beds and a toilet, one of which was already occupied. He was tossed in, and the door was slammed shut.
Only after the guard had left did the person lying on the first bed show themselves. It turned out to be a girl, about Gemma's age, with beautiful blonde hair, and one green eye and another purple eye. That was the first thing to catch his attention. The next was the two tails that swirled around behind her. He had learned her name was Emma, and that no, she was not born this way. She was Harry's first friend.
The tests began the next day. Simple things at first, blood pressure, blood type, pulse, blood oxygen level, blood sugar level, and a physical exam. After that, he had been sent back to his cell. Emma had looked at him sadly, a look he couldn't find the meaning of. She had whispered softly 'it begins' beckoning him in for a cuddle which he gladly took.
When he was taken for testing the next day, he understood why she had said what she had. They weren't all that normal this time. He had never had a DNA test before, never had x-rays and cat scans and MRIs done before, never had an allergy test before. He had never been hurt badly enough for it, nor did his family have the money for it. Some of the tests had been painful, and every time he had made a sound he had been hit. By the time he had gotten back to his room, he had many bruises forming, and Emma was nowhere to be found.
Emma did come back hours later, her head down and she immediately made her way to her bunk. Harry waited for the guard to leave before he came down from his top bunk and crawled into bed with her. On her face was a long gash, but instead of asking, he pulled her close and just let her cry.
Before he was taken the next morning, Emma had held him closely, and told him to be brave, and not to fight with them. Harry wasn't sure what would happen, but he knew it wouldn't be good.
"Are they going to make me like you?" He asked quietly, and Emma could only sadly nod, holding the young boy close.
He was taken an hour later. They had tossed him through a shower, and thrown on a hospital gown when he was finished. They put him on a cold metal stretcher, strapping his hands and feet down, then wheeled him into an entirely white room. Dr. Smith showed up soon after, sticking various needles and tubes and cords onto him and into him, a slightly rushed beep beep beep of his heart filling the room. He was injected with anesthesia and soon he fell unconscious.
Dr. Smith injected various colored liquids into his veins, watching the body of the young boy arch in response. After hours, he was finished, and Harry was wheeled off to a recovery bay, still strapped down and asleep. His body, already reacting to the various injections he had.
He woke up hours later arching his back in excruciating pain. His body morphing, adapting to the various DNA specimens injected into him. He whimpered and screamed and cried for hours until his mind finally put him to sleep again.
He was returned to his cell days later, with a new set of sharp teeth and retractable claws. He was dubbed more of a success than any of the others had been. Although, daily tests were run. Some tested his mental ability, how well he could figure out problems, how well he could show emotions like sympathy and happiness and love, how well he controlled his anger, how he thought and other things like that. He passed some, and failed some.
Nightmares plagued him, and due to the experimentation his claws retracted when he felt fear or anger, often he cut himself in his sleep by accident. As time went on, more experiments were done on him, and each time he became angrier, more volatile. But no matter what, every night when he was returned to his cell, Emma could always calm him down.
But Dr. Smith had dubbed her as a freak, a failure, and months after his 11th birthday, she was put down. It was only weeks later that Dr. Smith had died of a heart attack. Harry was hopeful for release with the news of the doctor's death. There would be no more funding, no doctor to actually experiment on them.
That wasn't how it worked.
Rather when Dr. Smith had gone over in case of his death, everything was meant to be destroyed. His research illegal. He had claimed research for curing skin cancer, and instead had used the funding to try and make the ultimate superhuman, so he himself could live forever. He hadn't found the answer before his death however, but his words were to be carried out.
The guards had given everyone a pill to take, one that made them sleep for a few hours, and when the clock struck 11 pm, they dosed all the papers in gasoline, and lit them on fire, exiting the building before it burst in flames. By the time everything was alight, all the experiments had awoken, and those unlucky enough to be close enough the start, were already screaming as they burned to death.
Harry was the only one to get out soon enough, the only one to escape. The cries of the others still ringing in his ears.
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So it's longer yay!
A bit of a background on Harry, how he became what he did.
What do you think about Harry now?
Where is his anger directed?
Does he blame humans or just the doctor?
Will he see Niall as someone like Emma or will he see him like the doctor?
How do you feel about Harry now?
You guys are amazing.
50 comments for an update by Wednesday?
I love you all!
{Dedication to a commenter.}
Val xxxx