While you're travelling with me.
On his 8th day locked in his jail-like cupboard, Harry had decided enough was enough. He didn't care what punishments he knew he'd receive (well, that's a lie, he was mortified of what his Uncle would do, but he didn't let the fear consume him) he just wanted to get out. He began to thrash himself around the cramped space, recklessly. He started to pound his fist against the dry rot walls and musty cupboard door, making pathetic attempts to hit out, even with his broken, burnt hand.
"LET ME OUT LET ME OUT LET ME OUT!" Harry screamed at the top of his lungs, though he had no idea what time it was- it had been days since he was last let out the dark space, at least he thought so anyway. Was it morning? Day? night? He hadn't a clue.
Someone has to come eventually.. Right? They have too! The boy repeated to himself, chest heaving as he drew his knees towards his chest, making a feeble attempt to not cry. But, to his dismay, the tears began to run down his cheeks whilst red hot fury arose in his chest.
Harry sounded a tumultuous shriek, continuing to kick and punch anything in site.
Nobody came.
If he was ever to look back at when his fear of closed doors began, he'd say it was this moment.
"Harry..."
He snapped his head and frantically looked around; best as he could, mind you, it was still pitch black. "Who's there?!"
"Harry sweetie it's me..."
The boy recognised that sweet tone. Ever so vaguely yet he knew he'd heard that soothing voice echo his name before.
"...M-mummy..??" Harry's eyes began to water with tears.
"Yes, darling, it's me."
Through the darkness he could've sworn he saw her. But the figure was either a sense of false-hope or had simply disappeared the moment his concentration was interrupted by a loud knock that reverberated throughout his cupboard and scared him paralysed.
He blocked out the details of what happened next. Though, he could've taken an educated guess (based on the slash on his arm, shaped like a thick leather belt accompanied by its buckle and another prominent black eye forming ).
Harry was sick. Physically but also just so sick of the way he was treated. He was fed up of the way he was treated. That's when he began devising a plan to escape. It was unreasonable for anyone to think he'd last any longer in that house.
I'll probably kill myself if Uncle Vernon doesn't get round to it first. He'd think, thoughts that were much too dark to admit he was considering. Harry was still only 7, after all.
The boy had remained at home for the rest of the week, waiting for his bruises to yellow and his abrasions to scab over; hand still indefinitely broken, though, and the burn didn't look even remotely better. In fact, it was starting to look rather infected. When Harry was finally permitted to rejoin the school atmosphere, the following week, Petunia had helped him to cover the injuries, no doubt due to Vernon's demands. Whilst it did reduce the appearance of some of the slightly purpler bruises, that kissed his cheekbone, you could still see them. There was only so much that makeup could cover up. Uncle Vernon had also stated he didn't want anyone to discover that Harry was wearing any and think that the butch and tough Vernon Dursley had raised a pansy for a nephew. "Though they probably think that anyway." the large man grunted before trudging away.
Before leaving, Harry's uncle shoved a pair of gloves into his hand, making him flinch from the contact.
"Well put them on then!" Vernon snarled.
Harry quickly fumbled with the gloves, carefully sliding one onto his broken (destroyed) hand. He frowned and looked up to his Uncle. "What are they for?"
"We don't want anyone to know about our little secret, now, do we?" he'd responded, gesturing to the burnt hand that Harry was cradling close to his body.
The ravenette didn't dare to utter a response.
Vernon grabbed the boy by his nape and roughly guided him out the door and into the car. Usually he and Dudley were allowed to walk to school alone, but Harry had lost that privilege when he levitated his cousin 10 feet from the ground. He was shoved roughly into the back seat and then set off on the journey. Harry was picking at the skin surrounding his torn nails, through the woollen fabric of his gloves.
I wonder if anyone even noticed I was gone.
When the car finally came to a halt, Uncle Vernon snapped his head in Harry's direction and began to wave one of his pudgy, sausage-like fingers in his face.
"Right. You listen to me now boy, there will be no and I mean none at all, of your 'funny business'. If there is, just remember that I don't believe in second chances. You thought your punishment last time was bad? Well, I'll make it so you never see the light of day again if you dare disobey me again, boy." he exhaled a grunt, some strange attempt to try and assert his authority. "Do you understand me?"
"Yes..." Harry said, voice meek and fragile.
Vernon cocked an eyebrow.
"Yes sir." the boy corrected himself. When his uncle gave him a firm look, he took it as his sign to eject himself from the car. He stumbled out, still struggling to remain steady on his feet due to the punishments he'd received from Uncle Vernon throughout the past -almost two- weeks. Not to mention that this was probably the most movement he'd done in all his time off, since he'd spent the vast majority cooped up in his dark and dilapidated cupboard under the stairs.
He stepped through the door of his classroom for the first time in 12 days, rethinking his plan to escape. It had to be today. Harry couldn't bear it anymore.
A small smile made its way to the surface as he thought of how happy and free he was about to become.
***
He looks dreadful... Remus had thought, a frown working its way onto his face.
Harry had finally returned to school, with an abundance of yellow bruises littering his face which was sunken and sallow ; looking in a very disheveled state. The teacher began chewing his cheek as the small boy stared out the window, lost in his thoughts.
All of a sudden, Remus' eyes caught a glimpse of Harry's hand, before the boy realised what the brunette was looking at and tucked them away under the table.
Why is he wearing gloves? Why doesn't he want me to notice it?
Harry was staring back at his teacher with wide eyes, his chest began to rise and fall quickly, breath becoming unsteady and ragged.
Remus quickly made his way over to him to try and be of aid to him.
"Harry..listen to me Harry," he whispered, trying not to draw too much attention to them, "You're okay, breathe with me. In 1...2...3.... and out." They kept repeating that process until the ravenette's breathing slowly began to even out, as tears still continued to race down his cheeks. "How're you feeling?"
He sniffled and wiped his nose with his rolled up sleeve, "Okay..." he replied, face looking downcast.
"Do you want to step outside for a minute and calm down?"
The boy nodded in response.
"Come on, then." Remus placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and guided him out the classroom. "Class, just get on with your work, I'll be back in a minute." he called back as the students stared at the boy limping out the class.
Remus shut the door behind him and watched as Harry took his glasses off to rub his eyes, wiping his face leaving tear stains. But the teacher noticed that upon wiping his weepy eyes, he rubbed away a significant amount of concealer, revealing a massive purple bruise. Remus couldn't help but gasp.
"Harry, do you want to talk about what upset you?"
He shrugged in response, making Remus frown. "You can trust me, y'know? I just want to help, in anyway I can."
Harry shuffled around uncomfortably, and hesitated before gently pulling back his left glove, still remaining mute. The older man couldn't help but let out a sharp breath. Beneath the woollen mitt was a severely mangled hand: swollen, covered with deep purple and red bruises, his fingers were misaligned (clearly broken) and there was a critical burn plastered across the back of his hand which was slightly scabbed over but in some places had remained openly wounded (yellow pus seeping its way out ever so slightly). He gently grabbed the boy's hand in his palm for closer inspection (mentally slapping himself for doing so after Harry flinched from the contact).
"How-" he drew a long breath, trying to subside his searing anger and stifle the tears that now began to form. "How did this happen?" But Remus had known how. After his run in with Petunia Dursley that was when he realised the absolute, undoubtable severity of the situation. Of course, he'd known before it was a dire situation and Harry had to be saved from that damned house as soon as possible. But it all came crashing down on him the moment that Petunia, of all people, reached out.
was then that Harry's eyes grew wet, he began to sniffle and break down right in front of Remus.
The sniffles grew into gut wrenching sobs. "Mr Lupin.. It- it really hurts.." he said between cries.
"I know Harry, I know." he slowly reached his hand out, looking at the boy for reassurance before putting a comforting hand on his frail shoulder. "How about I take you see the school nurse? She could help your hand?" Harry nodded after thinking about it. for a minute. "Okay then," Remus smiled "Follow me."
They slowly made their way to the nurse's office, the brunette stopping every once in a while to let the other catch up. Remus bit his cheek.
"Harry? Do you think you would like to tell the nurse how your hand got in that state?"
He began to shake his head desperately, "No! I- I can't.. Please don't tell anyone! It'll only make things worse..."
Upon hearing that, Remus felt his heart break. "Okay, Harry... I won't tell anyone." But he couldn't help but feel guilty. If the abuse actively continued, that would make the teacher semi-responsible since he didn't speak up. But he didn't want to betray Harry's trust either..
"D'you promise?"
"I promise." he crossed his fingers behind his back. A silly superstition, but to him it helped subdue the guilt that was bound to eat him inside-out, eventually.
When they arrived at the nurses office, Remus propped the boy on one of the beds. "Stay here a minute, I'll go fetch the nurse." he said, with a small, crooked smile plastered on his face.
He didn't know what he was thinking, leaving Harry alone like that. By the time he returned, with the nurse, the ravenette was gone.
***
The second Mr Lupin had stepped out the room Harry decided he was going to escape right then and there.
This is it. he thought to himself, eyes wandering around the room looking for a way out.
It had to be now. If the nurse or Lupin asked him anymore questions about his hand or the bruises or the obvious limp in his step, he might just crack and let everything flow out. And then he'd really be in for it with Uncle Vernon. His eyes landed on a window and he quickly hobbled over to it, sliding it up so gently could crawl out. The window led him right into the car park of his school. That's when he realised: he was actually free.
Harry made a run for it once he'd taken a moment to enjoy his first moments of freedom.
He took off, his little legs carrying him across the concrete of the car park. Running as fast as he could possibly go, ignoring the searing, nauseating pain that wracked throughout his body. He didn't let it slow him down. Thoughts raced through his mind, he didn't know where he was going or what he'd do when he'd got to any kind of final destination. He had no money, no food, no clothes bar the ones on his back (which obviously weren't the most practical since they were 5 times too big for him, anyway). Harry didn't know where he was going at all, but he knew wherever it was he'd be happier there than he was here.