Chapter 1
A cold early spring night, 1985
Harry watched outside his window tiredly as trees and snow blew past in a dizzying rush. He whimpered softly and wiped a trembling hand against his sweaty forehead. A consistent tickle in his aching throat was barely held in check with his steady labored breathing exercise in the hope he wouldn't disturb his aunt.
Not that it would've mattered anyway as the boy glanced up at his aunt Petunia, sitting ram straight in her seat with a death grip on her steering wheel.
The car zigged and zagged up what Harry was sure was a mountain. The sky had long since gone dark and he hadn't seen a town or street lamp in nearly an hour. What little he could see was a blurred mess that hurt his eyes when he looked for too long.
A sound rose from his chest, thick and watery, and he dove his face into his thin jacket just as he began to choke on a long overdue cough. His entire body exploded with the pain but nothing could compare to the pain in his chest. Molten lava couldn't hurt as bad as this, Harry thought as he choked. Tears streamed down his cheeks and collected into his t-shirt as his whole body crumpled in on itself reflexively. Shards of glass and nails were trying to escape his lungs and thick globs of something filled his mouth before he swallowed it down- not wanting to risk spitting it up into his clothes. He struggled to breathe through his fit, a thick metallic taste in his mouth before he was finally able to settle down once again. Each gasp made a wet rattle that was punctuated by a white-hot stab of pain radiating through his chest and throat.
When quiet filled the car again, Harry waited for the scolding that never came. He watched through a haze as a tick formed in Petunia's jaw but her focus remained on the roads ahead.
A few long minutes went by in relative silence before another- weaker, this time- fit of coughing almost made him fall over. Wrapped his arms around himself as much as he could, Harry gasped in pain and decided he'd take what punishment his aunt would give him and laid down across the seat, bringing his knees to his chest and resting his head on the garbage bag full of his things, closing his eyes tiredly.
He'd always dreamed that someday his relatives would grow to like him like they did Dudley. Or at least mind him a little bit. On occasions, when the nights in his cupboard were long, he’d imagine what it would be like if the Dursleys loved him. He'd get a room of his own, a bed, and clothes that fit him. He would be allowed to eat with the family; not just their table scraps, but actual meals and as much as he wanted, whenever he wanted. His aunt would smile and hug him and give him dumb nicknames and his uncle would laugh with him and protect him from monsters. He and his cousin could even be friends and they would play regular games where Harry wasn’t getting beat up.
Somedays he would even dream that his parents wanted him. That someday they would show up on the Dursley's front doorstep and take him away back to wherever it was they lived. He didn't care if it was a box on the street or a motel room somewhere. These faceless strangers would apologize for leaving him at his relative's mercy for so long and all his anger would melt away and he'd throw himself at them with all his tiny form could give.
Alas, that had been then. Back when he'd still been of use and was able to keep up with his daily chores.
It hadn't been so bad in the beginning. He'd been confined to his cupboard for the first bit of it as his aunt hadn't wanted him spreading his sickness to anyone else. He'd been sick in the past so he knew what to expect. After the first week, he'd been allowed to go back to his chores.
He hadn't felt much better but he could at least keep up with his aunt's demands. Harry hadn't known exactly when things escalated: it felt like he'd blinked and all of a sudden, his chest burned and his body ached with a pain like he’d never felt before. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and had found himself too weak to move. None of the medication his aunt made him take seemed to help. And when his breathing became short and his lips began to turn blue, a sliver of something like concern would flit across her long pinched face and she'd hurry away like he was something diseased.
That morning, as he was shuffled out of the cupboard and his few things emptied from the place where he'd spent three and a half years living, Harry had concluded that he was being sent away.
Oddly enough, Harry was alright with that. His uncle had frequently threatened to send him away to a detention center or the pound. Harry would always burst into silent tears and beg him not to send him away. He'd promised to always be good and always do his chores and never get in their way ever again.
Now that he was five, Harry was almost eighty percent positive that he couldn't be sent to the pound, nor was he old enough for juvie. At best, he was probably being sent to an orphanage somewhere out in the country. Maybe if he was really lucky, he could be adopted by a nice family this time, one who'll let him have a room and clothes that fit and maybe a couple meals a day.
Harry was startled from his musings when his door was wrenched open, his aunt's face was set like a stone as she stared down in disgust at her nephew.
"Get up."
Harry rushed to do as she said, wincing at the mud left on the seat from his shoes. He almost fell flat on his face as the temperature hit his already sensitive lungs and his pain tripled. He was righted just in time as his aunt's steely grip dragged him against the car.
Through the fog, Harry could faintly make out a driveway through the thick trees and a house light about half a mile up the road. The snow hadn't relented and was creating a thick blanket of white across the ground and was already covering their fresh tire tracks. A rush of wind caught him by surprise and he delved into another fit, this time letting the goo splatter to the ground in wet dark clumps.
Seeming not to notice, Petunia reached in and grabbed his things before thrusting them at Harry.
"You," she sneered, pointing one bony finger down at the choking child in front of her. "Will not tell ANYONE about us, boy. If they ask, your parents have been homeless for years and they left you here for care."
Too busy hacking up his lungs, Harry barely heard his aunt and cried out when his hair was snatched and he was forced to look at her.
"Do. You. Understand?" Each word was punctuated with a slightly violent yank and Harry whimpered as he tried to nod. Tell no one about the Dursleys.
Petunia dropped him then, rubbing her hand off as if he was something dirty that had somehow contaminated her. Shutting the door, she turned back to Harry again with a disgusted sniff.
"Not one person is to know about us! We had better not see one bobby on our doorstep or so help me I'll make sure you'll never see the light of day again!" Her shrill voice cut through the silence and Harry nodded fervently, becoming nauseous at the pain in his head from all his movement.
And with that, Petunia humphed and got back into the car. As Harry sat breathless in the middle of the countryside highway, he watched her tail lights disappear through the storm, her disgusted sneer the last thing he'll ever remember of the Dursleys.
As the wind began to pick up and the snow began to fall harder, Harry remained on the ground where his aunt had left him, staring dumbstruck into the black night where she disappeared. A thought occurred to him at that moment: for the second time in the first five years of his life, Harry Potter had been abandoned.
The boy shivered as the wind ripped through his thin jacket. His fingers had turned to ice in the snow and he pulled them through his sleeves so they could hide under his arms. Another bout of coughing made him double over and his face became dangerously close to the rising snow.
What was so wrong with him that nobody wanted him? Not his own parents, who kept him for a year and then dumped him on his relative's doorstep. Not his relatives, who starved him and kept him in a cupboard under the stairs. And now, after all the beatings and threats, they dumped him too.
Hot tears splashed down his face that wasn't related to the pain and he found that he missed his cupboard.
A pop sounded behind him and he snapped his head around before he could think. Spots danced across his vision and vertigo made him topple sideways. He only had a moment to realize he had face-planted in the snow before he was being yanked up onto unsteady feet.
"What in God's good name are you doing out here, kid?! It's a damn blizzard out here!" The woman shouted angrily. Harry cringed at the loud voice, his head pounding fiercely and his ears beginning to ring.
"'M sorry. 'Don't mean to." He tried, squinting up at the tall dark figure. Her grip, although not as biting as his aunt's, was tight around his bicep as she hauled him further away from the road. Seeing that he couldn't stand by himself, the person knelt in front of him, keeping a firm grip on his arms.
"Do you have any concept of what time it is?! Where do you even live- and what are you wearing?!"
Harry couldn't have answered her if he tried. His glasses must have fallen off at some point as Harry squinted at the figure in front of him. Instead, his head drooped forward and back as his vision began to cut out. The stranger made a soft sound of alarm as his head nearly collided with hers before falling to his chest. A beat of silence passed before a warm hand snaked under his fringe. The warmth of her hand felt good against his frozen skin and he whimpered as she pulled him closer awkwardly and gently rubbed his back, making soft shushing sounds.
"Please," he slurred before he began coughing again. Each form-wracking cough brought up another wad of gunk from his lungs and set every inch of him alight with pain. The stranger tensed before maneuvering him against herself. His form went slack as the stranger scooped him up, his cheek resting on the woman's shoulder. In the haze of his mind, Harry found comfort in the contact. His nose burrowed into her neck and he was overcome with warmth.
"Let's get you somewhere warm." Her soft breath tickled his nape and he sighed contentedly, unable to move now that he was safe.
As they moved further away from the road and into the woods, Harry forgot all about his fallen glasses and belongings. Surrounded by her scent combined with the gentle rocking of her form, Harry found himself slipping into a peaceful darkness.