Chapter 1
Harry was lying on his side on the abysmal piece of trash that was masquerading as his mattress in the Dursley household. This was the one position he could hold somewhat comfortably and, unfortunately, that left him staring at the door to Dudley's second bedroom. With all its locks and that awful cat flap, it was a stark reminder of the reality of his situation. Both here and in the wizarding world.
He pushed those thoughts away.
He was bored out of his skull. But being bored was better than being in pain, so he concentrated on that and didn't move a muscle otherwise.
Vernon had taken unholy glee in Sirius' passing.
He wasn't thinking about that either.
Harry was waiting for Petunia to leave the house. She had her weekly garden club meeting right after lunch so she should be leaving soon and he would finally have the house to himself. Vernon was at work, and Dudley was out, probably terrorising some poor children out of their pocket money with his cronies.
He would soon be alone, and he would finally be able to relax a little. And practice. His relatives had slapped even more locks on his door -different ones this time- and he needed to learn to unlock these too, wandlessly and swiftly.
He couldn't really remember how he taught himself the skill -he did remember wishing and wishing and wishing on so many nights filled with hunger. Somehow he'd known he could. And so he did.
When he'd returned after first year, he never even considered using his wand. That 'Oh, shit' moment after already having raided the kitchen was carved into his mind. No owl had come, though, and that's how he learned that the ministry couldn't detect wandless magic.
And well, what would a boy locked up in Durzkaban do with that knowledge?
He would make sure he could escape his room on his own. So he could eat. So he could escape in case of fire.
Because there was one thing Harry knew to his bones: his relatives wouldn't even think of freeing him.
And they would be ecstatic if he died.
So he worked. For hours and hours on end. Unlocking charms, accio, banishment charm, warming charm, producing water, creating fire, making a spark, creating a ball of light.
Nothing groundbreaking or power consuming.
He was still working on the disillusionment charm and silencing charm. And for some reason his wandless cooling charm didn't work so well.
Perhaps he should have thought of the cushioning charm as well, but that seemed like a luxury.
He'd thought he'd achieved a lot. He'd thought that keeping his head down, learning the lay of the land and focusing on surviving was the best course of action.
He hadn't been wrong. His first year confirmed that adults in the magical world couldn't be trusted either, and that he had to shoulder his burdens mostly by himself (or share them with other children). He also learned that the headmaster of his school had blithely sent an eleven year old boy -and his friends- directly in the path of a dark lord.
It hadn't gotten better from there.
But he'd been so busy surviving -and playing at being a normal boy with mostly friendship and homework and adventure on his mind- that he hadn't done more.
What use was some wandless magic? Secretly raiding the library and reading books in his bed? Prodding Hermione 'innocently' towards some topics and affecting a bored-but-indulging mien whenever she was ranting about a subject that had caught her interest?
Voldemort was back, and a magical war had come to the British isles once again.
Sirius was dead.
And Harry didn't even have a basic Hogwarts education under his belt.
He had no knowledge, no skills, no resources, and his only allies were his friends.
He didn't know enough. He couldn't do enough. And no adult -wix, squib, or Muggle- could be trusted.
And Sirius was dead.
He had been so busy trying to find some manoeuvring room while still dancing to Dumbledore's tune, because the headmaster terrified him in ways Voldemort never could. He'd been so cautious, so secretive.
And now, Sirius was dead.
So, what could he do? Who could he trust?