Chapter 1
The night was getting darker and darker, Harry noted. It hadn't been the first time the Dursleys threw him out for the night, nor the second.
The first time he had been terrified; he’d been a Freak at school that day, though he didn't know how. His teacher, Ms. Crotchknee, a name that Harry had assumed, led to a large amount of bullying, as seen in how his classmates had taken to laughing at her for it (he could only assume her grouchy personality had spawned from it), had decided that because both Harry and Pierce Polkiss had identical tests that he must have cheated.
His aunt had made sure to tell everyone who would listen how much of a delinquent he was
One thing led to another, and he was shoved into the principal’s, a man that just so happened to be one of his uncle’s drinking buddies, office. He was promptly, with no need for any proof, sentenced to lunch detentions for the last month of school before summer break. Aunt Petunia had, as had become habit whenever someone decided to pin something on Harry, profusely apologized, promising the man that Harry would be ‘sufficiently punished for his actions.’ Harry had been driven to one town over, his aunt must've decided that being locked in the cupboard or getting hit around wasn't enough and dropped him off. No words. No goodbyes.
Harry had thought they were truly getting rid of him.
Harry had spent the night shivering under a bench, the hole filled with metal letting in the sporadic bursts of rain. Harry had never been so petrified, every shadow or thump of someone moving their house causing him to flinch in panic, he knew no one would help, he was a freak. Everyone knew it He had realized then that living with the Dursleys wasn't the worst life he could have.
He was seven.
When, the next morning just before the town truly came back to life, his uncle had driven by, loud engine growling and his similarly menacing uncle growling to get in the car before anyone saw, Harry had leapt inside, not caring for how he was getting the car wet.
After his aunt saw how much the punishment had worked the first time, she was quick to repeat it whenever Harry dared to step out of line, no matter if Harry was at fault.
That was how Harry, freshly ten, found himself shoved out of the car, Dudley laughing in the backseat as his relatives sped off as fast as they could.
Harry had sat on the curb, cursing his existence. It wasn't just the fact that he was thrown out for a night or two, it was that he never knew when, or, a deeper part of him thought, if, they would return. He would be forced to stay at the exact place that they had dumped him, the one time he had risked finding the town of the month’s library and settling with a book, he had missed them, causing his relatives to burst inside after searching for him for hours. Harry could still feel the phantom aches of his uncle’s belt along his back. The longest they’d left him was two days and 17 hours, Harry had been lucky, or unlucky, enough to be dumped by a shop with a clock that time.
He sat for a while, frustration turning to the now familiar feelings of despair. He wondered how Dudley was feeling, having, Harry guessed, arrived at his cubs scouts day camp already. Harry would’ve killed to be there with him, no matter the amount of taunting he would get form his cousin. Harry had thought archery sounded quit-
“Are you alright?”
Harry flinched and looked up, cursing himself silently. He had gotten proficient in sensing when people were near him out of necessity; he doesn't need any old do-gooder to think he needed help. He must have gotten too stuck in his head.
“Yes-” Harry, pausing for a moment, having processed how the man was dressed, “Father.”
Harry had never met a pastor, though he had seen one on television. His aunt had expressly forbid him from going with them to the few times they went to church, typically easter, and during Christmas time, saying that he was dammed and couldn't be saved. Harry was pretty sure his aunt didn’t actually believe any of it, as he had only ever seen her touch the bible that sat in their living room when straitening up for guests.
The pastor looked so much younger than he had imagined them, old bearded men praising the lord, whoever that was, in a loud, commanding voice. Instead, this one was young, though Harry didnt have much experience in guessing ages, he decided he couldn't be older than twenty-five, clean shaven and bronze hair.
Harry realized the pastor was expecting him to continue speaking.
“My rela- my aunt, she told me she would pick me up here in a few hours. I’m just- waiting. I'm fine.”
The man nodded in understanding, before saying, “You shouldn't be left alone for so long, come,” The man pointed at the building less than fifteen meters from them that Harry recognized as a stone church, “you can stay inside away from the heat until you get picked up, okay, son?”
After a moment's thought, he wouldn't be picked up until at least eight hours, Harry nodded and accepted the man’s hand to help him up.
Twenty minutes later Harry was curled up on one of the many benches in the nave, as Father Jim had told him the room was called, reading out of one of the many spare bibles that the small church had, the pastor sitting next to him explaining the first versus of Genisus and their origin.
Most of it had gone over Harry’s head, having been much too focused on the question that he was gearing up to ask. Harry breathed out and spoke, “Do- do freaks go to hell?”
Harry cursed himself as he realized Father Jim had been speaking. He had stopped though, looking at Harry in consideration. Harry had never been good at reading people, but he thought the man looked worried.
“Well, that depends, son. What do you mean by freak?”
Harry hadn't realized, but he didn’t actually know the answer to that question. At least not fully. He knew that his relatives called him freakish whenever something strange happened to him, and whenever he got in trouble, and whenever he was acting abnormal. Which was usually all the time.
“I- I guess... being different? Do you go to hell if you're not normal?”
“Son, being different isn't a sin. You won't be dammed for not being normal.” His words came out in a tone that Harry couldn't place.
Even though Harry didn’t really believe in Hell, though he guesses he doesn't really not believe in it, just not ever thought of it much, hearing those words felt like learning his uncle would be working late. A weight lifting off his chest.
Harry felt tears begin to pool in his eyes, hard earned instincts the only thing holding them from falling. Father Jim must’ve noticed, because he set aside their books and pulled him into a soft, warm hug, the first, Harry would note later, he had ever gotten.