Chapter 1: The beginning
(Author's note: Trigger warning: there is Neglect and Physical Abuse and mention of a Pedophile. I do not condone these things at all but it's for the story though it won't be graphic. And I hope for those who were kind enough to give a review, that this is to your liking. Also, word vomit, sorry not sorry.)
"Talking"
'Thoughts or emphasis'
'Separate voice inside head'
~Parseltounge~
Whispering or emphasis or sarcasm
Extreme emotion/extreme emotion
^ inspired by another author's fic (Info at the bottom)
(Author's note or extra info) marked accordingly
.~*..*~.~*.
August 3, 1985
Harry's POV
I'm so happy! Today I start primary school, which means I can make some friends! I never have time to go to the park or just go outside to play because Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon give me so many chores; and I'm not allowed to go out to play until they're done. I never understood why they give me so many chores when Dudley doesn't have to do anything.
I even got some new clothes, granted its only three shirts, one pair of pants, a jacket, a pair of running shoes, and from a second-hand shop. But at least they aren't hand-me-downs and they fit with a bit of room to grow. I even got to take a bath with warm water today!
As I dry off, I look at myself in the mirror. I have an oval-shaped face, with soft delicate features, full pouty lips, and a slightly upturned button nose. My hair is a mess of blue-black curls and waves that stops just below my ears. I'm also a bit on the small side with a lithe, willowy build and you can slightly see the outline of my bones. But the thing I like most about my appearance is my eyes, they're an emerald green color with small flecks and swirls of silver in them and they're almond-shaped (A.N.: he doesn't need glasses). My least favorite part would have to be the lightning bolt scar on my forehead. It's not like I'm being vain or anything like that! It's just that whenever I look at it, I see a flash of green and then it starts to throb in pain.
Today I'm wearing a soft olive-green tee-shirt, dark blue jeans, and my new shoes. I grabbed my backpack, also from the second-hand store, filled with the bare minimum of usual school supplies and the large lunch I made for myself. Granted it was only one pb&j and a ham and cheese sandwich, but I usually get much less because Aunt Petunia usually forgets about me and only makes enough for three people or I get punished for whatever thing I did, or Dudley pinned on me. I'm used to it because it's always been this way, but that doesn't mean it hurts any less.
They always pretend that I'm not even there, and when they do its usually to give me my chores list, to occasionally hit me, or yell at me for some stupid reason (i.e.: "Boy, you missed a weed!" "Freak, you missed some dust!" etc..). That's another thing, they never call me by my name! For the first three years of my short life, I thought my name was Freak Boy. You read that right, that's what I thought my name was.
I only learned my name when I was first babysat by Mrs. Figg, because it was Dudley's third birthday and they were going to London and didn't want the 'freak' to ruin it. The only way I'd ruin it is because when I am allowed to go with them, instead of people oohing and awing over their precious 'Dididums' (A.N.: Which never happens, like ever) they begin to coo over me instead, telling my relatives how 'pretty' or 'handsome' I am. They then start comparing me to either their children or Dudley and putting me in a good light, because I'm 'so much better behaved' and 'so polite' and 'so kind' and 'you're so lucky to have him'.
As I make my way to the car, I see Aunt Petunia crooning about how Dudley is going to be "top of the class", because he's so "amazing" and "advanced". I could practically see his ego swelling like a hot air balloon. It's another thing I never understood, they constantly praise and reward any accomplishment Dudley makes and either glare at me for any milestone I accomplish or just flat out ignores it happened until my cousin does it. I mean, I can already count to thirty-five while Dudley can barely count ten, I was walking at 1 ½ year old while my 'darling' cousin barely began toddling 2 ½ years old. Though, that could just be because he was already the size of a large beachball.
In the cases where they ignore it, they'll accuse me of copying their 'precious baby', scold me, then throw me in my cupboard. Oh, that's another thing my bedroom was the cupboard under the stairs, which I never understood because there are four bedrooms in the house (i.e.: Master bedroom, Dudley's room, Dudley's 2nd Bedroom, and the guest room). I've never asked though.
Rule#1: Don't ask questions. This the first rule of many I learned that I need to follow for a relatively peaceful life within the Dursley household. I found out this rule when I asked Aunt Petunia about what happened to my parents, which earned me a screech of "a car crash" and a swift whack of a rolling pin to the head.
I've secretly read every book in the house, for some reason I remember everything and anything I've ever seen, read, heard, touched, tasted, felt, or experienced since the day I woke up on the Dursleys doorstep onwards. It's a strange thing so I never told the Dursleys about this ability, cause contrary to what they believe I'm not retarded.
That's yet another thing about me, I can easily understand and comprehend whatever I hear and learn, it became even easier to understand the adults better after I read the entire dictionary in a fit of boredom. I just soak up knowledge like a dried-up sponge, and its amazing what adults will talk about in front of you simply because they think you don't understand what they're saying.
There is one thing I know for a fact that I'm not doing at school no matter how horrid of a punishment I would receive. I one hundred percent, absolutely refuse to hide my intelligence.
Rule#2: Never be equal to or surpass Dudley in anything.
My relatives expect me to always be slightly or completely behind Dudley, anything else would result in punishment (i.e.: no meals, cupboard, spanking, etc..). The problem with this is that Dudley is dumber than a pile of dung and will definitely be at the bottom of the class. Ah, wait that's insulting to the dung, my bad. Anyway, I will do only my absolute best in all my classes, no matter the consequences.
Oh dear, I drifted off in my thoughts again we're already there. As I get out of the car Aunt Petunia gives me a cold, hard look as if to say, "do one freakish thing even one toe out of line and there will be hell to pay". Now if this was a year and a half ago, I would've been cowed, but it's not, so I don't care. Sure, punishments can hurt or are just all-around unpleasant it does not mean I fear them though I do avoid them if I can help it.
I walk into the classroom to see at least half the class is already there, so I go take a seat at one of the tables in the middle since no one was sitting there yet. But not before greeting the teacher with a soft smile, a nod of the head, and a quiet "hello". She smiled right back with a light blush. That happens a lot, many of the people I've met say I have a soothing, melodic voice. I don't truly understand what that means, but it makes people happy so I guess that's fine.
My teacher is extremely pretty. She's young compared to all the other ladies I've seen on Private Drive. She has long strawberry-blonde hair tied in a loose braid with a few curls framing her square-shaped face with small lips. She has round hazel-green eyes that seem to sparkle whenever she smiles. I think she would be considered petite, but that just compared to the women I've met before. She's wearing a white cardigan over a black, knee-length dress with white cats on it, and black leggings and ballet flats. As we came into the classroom, she told us her name was Ms. Jackson.
As I set my bag down under my desk, a boy sat down next to me. He was kind of average, but at the same time not. He had brown hair, but it looked soft and curly and shined when the light touched it. His eyes were brown, though it was a whiskey-amber kind of brown. His face was heart-shaped with a button nose and average features. He was wearing a red hoodie over a gray t-shirt with a batman symbol with blue jeans and converse. (A.N.: I kind of mixed TH Spiderman and Stiles from TW)
He then turned to me and said," Hi, my name is Liam! What's your name?" "Nice to meet you, Liam." I said," My name is Harry."
We began to talk about all sorts of things, from our favorite thing to do to our favorite color. We might have actually been great friends if it wasn't for, you guessed it, Dudley. He waddled into the classroom huffing and puffing a minute before class was going to start. Though he quickly forgot his exhaustion when he saw me smiling and laughing with Liam. My cousin is just like his parents when it comes to me: mean and cruel. If anything makes me happy and/or content Dudley will be right there to ruin or destroy it. I immediately know what's going through his piggy little mind right now.
I quickly try to warn Liam about my cousin, but it's too late. Dudley is the same as Uncle Vernon in the aspect of being faster than his weight should allow when angry or destroying something that brings me joy. To make matters worse Ms.Jackson had stepped out to get some papers for some of the activities that just finished printing.
Dudley had taken a running start and tackled Liam, then started hitting him with his bookbag with me trying to pry him off the entire time. I miraculously managed to pull him off, but not before Dudley shouted:" Stay away from the freak or I'll hurt you!" Now most everyone was giving me a wide berth as if I had a contagious disease.
Just then Ms. Jackson came in. The moment the strawberry-blonde saw the state Liam was in, she dropped the papers and rushed to his side. She then turned to the closest person which was, thankfully, me and demanded an explanation of what happened. I told the entire truth of what happened and why, of how Dudley hates anything that makes me happy to how he attacked Liam to what he shouted.
I'm thankful that she asked me if she had asked Dudley, he would have spun a tale of how I was the one who did it. One of the braver girls stepped forward and told the teacher what I said was true along with her side of things ("He came in, looked at Liam, and completely flipped for no reason!"). And slowly more people came up gave their side of what happened.
Ms. Jackson was livid and disgusted by how horribly this child acted. She immediately went to the teacher across the hall to ask him to watch the class while she took Dudley to the headmistress's office and Liam to the nurse. The teacher agreed and we were quickly shuffled into the other classroom while Ms. Jackson took Dudley to the office and Liam to the nurse's office.
We all sat in silence as we waited for Ms. Jackson to return to get us. Finally, the silence was broken by Rose, who was a black-haired blue-eyed girl with pretty caramel colored skin. "Why does that boy hate when you're happy? Who is he?", she asked. "That boy is my cousin Dudley. And I don't know why he doesn't like to see me happy; Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon are the same. Though it doesn't bother me much anymore."
I lied about the last part, it does still slight hurt whenever it happens. "Though I'm sad that Liam probably won't want to be my friend anymore. I never got to have a friend before, because I could never get my chores done in time to go out to play." I said. That got the attention of the teacher who is watching us right now, Mr. June. "How many chores do you have Mr. Potter?" he asked with... concern?
"Well first I have to help make breakfast, then I have to wash the dishes as soon as possible. After that, I have to sweep, vacuum, mop, wax, and polish the floors. Then I must clean Dudley's room which is always messy no matter how hard I clean it. And..." I trail off as I see the look of horror growing on the teacher's face, and some of the students' faces as well.
I know I probably shouldn't use the acting skills I've acquired from lying and hiding certain things from the Dursley's, but my instincts are telling me good things will happen for me if I do this. My instincts have never led me wrong and have kept me from making decisions that would cause me a world of pain, so I went with it.
I flinch with a slight look of fear and apprehension with small tears in the corners of my eyes, "I-I'm sorry if I said someth-thing w-wrong! I p-promise I'll be good p-please don't p-p-punish me!" I said with small tears leaking from my eyes. It's just how I acted when my aunt or uncle was about to punish me because if I don't show "fear" and beg it gets worse. Though watching the reaction to my lowest begging mode, it was probably a bit too much for them.
With a slight look of panic and horror, Mr. June scooped me up and tried his best to "calm" me, "Hey, shh, shh, it's okay. No one's going to hurt you, you're safe. Don't worry, I've got you just breathe." The last one confused me until upon realization that while my mind was calm my body; not so much.
Realizing I can't breathe and oh god why can't I breathe, am I dying, what's happening to me, someone please help- Dully I realized my hyperventilating had slipped into a panic attack, and I tried frantically to focus on either Mr. June's heartbeat, breathing or voice. My hearing latching onto his voice and I was slowly able to come back to myself.
That was my first time having a panic attack, it was so terrifying I didn't have any control over my body. I could barely speak and what did come out was gibberish or a single word that meant nothing.
And it was so tiring, I was so close to drifting off, but Mr. June kept saying I had to stay awake for a little bit more than I could take a nap. But I'm tired now, and it's so hard to stay awake when I'm pressed against the warm thing. I vaguely register it as Mr. June's chest as it vibrates with a soft, deep chuckle. I faintly hear him telling Ms. Jackson something, huh that's strange when did she get here. I started to doze off, but he gently shook me again saying," You can't fall asleep yet, bambino piccolo. Just a little further, okay."
He carried me out to the front where a large vehicle with flashing lights was located. I recognize it from the telly and descriptions in books, it was an ambulance. But, why is it here? "It's for you, bambino piccolo." Can he read minds? I felt rather than heard Mr. June chuckle slightly," You're adorable, bambino piccolo." Hey, I resent that I'm very ManlyTM (A.N.: Guess who?), thank you very much. "Yes, yes little one, extremely manly, my mistake." Why do I feel like I'm being mocked and patronized right now? "I'm not mocking you little one. And I'm curious as to how you know all this?" Well, Mr. I'm-not-a-mind-reader I have this weird thing where I remember everything and anything I've ever seen, read, heard, touched, tasted, felt, or experienced from the moment I woke on the Dursley's doorstep onward. I felt his steps falter before they resumed as if nothing happened.
He then laid me down on a strange bed and turned to leave. No don't leave me with these people, they're scary! I latched onto his hand with all my might afraid if I didn't, he would leave. "You have to let go, bambino piccolo. It's okay you are safe with these people; they are here to help you. It's alright, nothing bad will happen to you." No please don't leave me alone, I hate being alone it's so dark and cold. I hate it, and that woman feels like the really bad man, please don't leave me. I faintly hear him talking to a lady about whether this is alright or not. I guess she said its fine because he comes to sit next to me.
(A.N.: To those who have little ones in their family or know someone with little ones. Teach them to kick and scream and bite if someone who isn't a family member tries to pick them up and do bad things. Also, a message to everyone, do NOT get to the second location if abducted. Try everything to get out of this situation, if you can't leave as much of your DNA as possible spit, rip out your hair, make yourself bleed anything. Try your hardest because there are people who will miss you dearly, even if you don't believe it. Rant over.)
"Little one, what did you mean by the lady feels like the bad man?" he asked. One of the few times the Dursleys took me with them to London, there was a strange man who was following us. I had to pee so Uncle Vernon let me go on my own with a time limit of five minutes or they would leave me there. I knew they weren't bluffing, so I ran to the nearest restroom, but he followed me there. He tried to corner me in there; he kept talking about how pretty I was, how he wanted me to be his most prized pet, about how he would take good care of me, and how he would play with me. I didn't like what he was saying and when I took a closer look, I saw it was the man from the telly who was abducting children and who Aunt Petunia said was the worst kind of person imaginable.
So, I did what my aunt told us to do (A.N.: Vernon and Petunia may be neglectful and abusive towards Harry, but they would never allow that to happen to him. He's still a child and they're not complete monsters in this fic. Also, Harry is so out of it that he doesn't realize he talking out loud.) the moment he grabbed me and put a hand down the back of my pants and undies, I screamed as loud as I could, bit him, scratched and clawed, hit and punched, kneed and kicked; all the while screaming my head off.
The door had swung open and there were Uncle Vernon and some policemen. I had seen my uncle go completely red in the face from anger, but I had never seen him turn purple in absolute rage before in my entire life. Before the police could do anything, Vernon had flown forward and ripped me away from him. It was strange, the only times Uncle Vernon bothered to touch and acknowledge me was to give me punishments and to scold me. Though I guess he hates people who take pleasure from kids more then freaks like me. (A.N.: Pedos are the scum of the earth and this is only for plot reasons.)
I've always been able to tell if a person is good, bad, or morally grey. Though with the lady it not so much her; but the thing on her left forearm. I'm tired, but I don't want you to leave, but my head hurts and I'm sleepy. "Sleep, bambino piccolo. I will be here when you wake.", Mr. June said. Pinky promise? I felt something wrap around my pinky, "Cross my heart. Now get some rest, bambino piccolo." But it's hard. "Well, how about a lullaby?" Okay, it sounds nice.
~Soldatino by Paola Bennet~
Close your eyes
I know what you see
The darkness is high
And you're in ten feet deep
But we've survived
More terrible monsters than sleep
And you know I will be here, to tell you to breathe
Tu sei il Mio soldatino (you're my little solider)
La ragione per cui vivo (the reason I live)
Non ti scordar di me (don't forget me)
Io vegliero su di te (I'm watching over you)
Stumbling lost
The last choice of all that you meet
Its the cost
of ruling those 'neath your feet
Paths you've crossed, and trust you're trying to keep
You're exhausted
Listening for a voice that can't speak
Ma Nico Mio caro
Tu sei il Mio soldatino
La ragione per cui vivo
Non ti scordar di me
Io vegliero su di te
So, you run
Through shadows, you roam
Seams come undone
By the love you thought you could own
But he's just one
of many that you might call home
And, maybe someday the bitter will fade from your bones
Fade from your bones...
Ho.oh.
Eri il Mio soldatino (you were my little solider)
Ora un principe oscuro (now a dark prince)
Ma anche per te, ce una luce (but even for you, there is a light)
Che ad un'altra vita ti conduce (that leads you to another)
And with that, I slipped off into the oblivion that is sleep.
(Word Count: 3,676)