Initial meetings
Chapter 1
For a day so momentous to his life, it was dreadfully dull. The sky was devoid of any clouds and a rather greyish fog encapsulated the suburban area. It was neither cold nor warm, one might even describe it as pleasant if you wilfully ignored the appearance of it all. A very normal Tuesday in London, a day that the Dursleys would have loved as they were also a completely average family. All the families who lived in Privet Drive were normal.
Most of the wives did not work, choosing to focus on home making and gossiping if Petunia had any say in the matter. Their husbands had very proper jobs in companies and drove ford fiestas ; a BMW if they were cut above the rest. Mr. Dursley had a rainy day fund for his; he deserved it after all, for he knew that he was worthier than all the other folk around them and so was his son, Dudley. There was no lack of children in Privet Drive. Any respectable couple had to have a child otherwise people would talk - “Is everything all right at home?”or “ He must have a side piece if he’s not settling down.”. The women knew better.
Petunia had decided to stop after Dudley. Not that she did not want another child to grace the world, but why continue when you have already achieved perfection. Dudley Dursley was her pride and joy. A rather pudgy child with cheeks the size of golf balls and wispy flaxen hair. The other mothers would describe him as mean-spirited but Petunia preferred the term ‘manly.’ The dictator of every play-date and destroyer of toys is what the children knew him as.
He wasn’t particularly liked, but he was well respected which made his father proud. For everyone knew a man had to be properly respected and his little darling boy was already achieving this at two years. He'd move a fiver from his rainy funds to his gift funds whenever he remembered. They were the picture perfect family, a balance that was about to break at any minute and change the course of history.
Another little boy was about to make his way into their lives and there was nothing they could do about it. Petunia was the most put out when the man showed up at their home. She had not forgotten him no matter how much she tried. His beard swept the floor swinging from side to side as he presented a swaddle to her. His eyes lacked his usual twinkle, and a forlorn expression graced his face. She didn't reach out.
‘Petunia-” he started but her glare stopped him. Taking a step back, she looked for any sign of her husband or son.
‘Get inside before the neighbours see you.’
This appeared to brighten the man as they made their way to the living room, the swaddle suspiciously silent and still throughout. The man cleared his throat.
‘Petunia, thank you. I am certain you recall me. I am Professor Dumbledore-.’
‘I don’t care. Why are you here?”
“There is no easy way to say this my dear. Please have a seat.’
She made no attempt to follow his instruction, harsh glare intensifying and rather uglily pursed her lips. Instead of vehemently insisting like she’d expected, the man let out a sigh and turned to stare at the swaddle he was cradling. He did not seem experienced, and his form was clumsy as if he was afraid he would drop the thing. Part of her hoped he would just to see his reaction. It was here for a reason, and she did not want him to stay long enough to find out.
“ Lily is has been murdered. James too. They are both dead.. But-” at this the man choked‘ -But Harry survived’
Static. He kept on talking, but no amount of money would be able to let her confess what he said. She did not know. There was only static and the room blurred. Reeling, she sank to the floor making a thud. She tried to calm her shaking hand but to no avail. It was a dream. It had to be a dream. This very morning she was complaining to Vernon about the empty milk carton and now her heart was desolate. Lily was -
‘ It was your kind's fault. She should have never met that awful boy, and she should have never gone with you. She was supposed to be by my side. ‘ her voice quivered
‘Do you understand me? She was mINE’
Her statement echoed around the room and the swaddle stirred. It remained silent.
The man continued ignoring her outburst.
“There is only Harry now. He can stay by your side. He needs a home, with his family.’
Her head spun so fast the man wondered if it could have broken and her demure changed so fast that there was no room for a proper mourning,
“ Her kind killed her and her kind will raise the boy. He will find no family here. Get out ‘
At these words Albus stood up, and with a piercing stare silenced the women. An inaudible scream followed but he was not deterred.
“ You misunderstand Petunia. You were once an Evan. This is a matter of magic, magic so powerful could not even begin to grasp. Harry Potter must find a home here for the safety of the wizarding world and for yours. If you know what's good for you, the lad will stay.’ with a final wave of his hand, her voice returned, and he swiftly placed the swaddle in her arms before he disappeared with a pop.
Piercing green eyes met hers as she wept. She wept for her sister, for a childhood lost and for the life she was about to lose. No matter how she tried to hide from the world Lily had thrust upon them, it seemed to disagree. Taunting her, burdening her with no reward. Here she was expected to raise one of theirs as her own - no doubt the favour would never had been repaid in turn.
They were not special enough to them. ‘Muggles’ as if they did not all bleed the same blood. As if they did not all take their final resting place six feet underground. Her grasp tightened on the swaddle and the child tilted its head, oddly still and small for a toddler. Odd. Yes, that was what they were. If she was a muggle then it was only fair to choose a name for them and she had the perfect one, Freaks, They were freaks of nature ; nature that they did not follow.
Those who attempt to alter the natural order of the world deserve to be punished and she would start with the one that had been unwillingly forced upon her. There was no Lily in that boy; he was the spitting image of his father, there was no reason for sentimentality, She unwrapped him slowly and roughly left him on the sofa. What was the daft fool thinking, swaddling a toddler. He was old enough to talk! She resisted the urge to look back and strutted to her bedroom, the clanking of heels following her. She had to figure out what to say to Vernon.
The boy in question had found himself sprawled across the sofa and was rather confused regarding the whole ordeal. He was not sure where he was, but it definitely was not home. He had been sleeping when the noises began, a shrill scream and a flash of green. Now his head buzzed, his fingers tingled and everything felt cold. Santa had carried him to this place, but he wasn't really santa. He introduced himself as a ‘Dumble-something’ but Harry knew better. Only Santa could have a beard that long and look so old. Still, he wasn’t sure why his skin crawled when the man had carried him. Maybe Santa had extra special magic?
He mused on the thought, maybe he should ask his mum. She would know- she knew everything in the whole wide world. Brimming with newfound determination, Harry made his way down from the two seater and waddled around the room shouting for her. The new location didn't frighten him for though he did not know it, the Potters had been on the run and often moved to preserve their safety.
This time nobody answered his call. He tried to shout even louder. Louder. Louder. Louder. The only sound that returned was his own, echoing around him. Where was she? He kept trying and trying until his cheeks were red and his throat itched,. All of a sudden a spindly lady appeared behind him, her sharp fingernails digging his shoulder- she was the women from before, who was talking with Santa,
‘Look here boy. Stop with the shouting. I do not want to hear a peep out of you. Your mum and dad are gone. They are not coming back. Ever. They have died like the good for nothing-’ catching herself she cleared her throat and regarded the child again. He wasn't crying but seemed vexed, as if the absence of his mother annoyed him instead of devastating him.
‘ Do you understand what died means?”
Harry nodded, but his expression remained the same. She was right, he really was a freak.
‘ Your parents have died. You will now be living with my family. We are opening our home to you out of the goodness of our hearts, so you will behave and pay us back. You will refer to me as Aunt Petunia or ma’am. I shall introduce you to my husband and son when they return. Don’t misunderstand us. You may be my nephew but you will never be family. Be sure to remember that. Now nod if you understood.’
Harry gave a slow nod and although he stopped looking annoyed, there was a lack of sadness that surrounded him. With a final stare, she motioned for him to stay and moved to leave the room again.
‘ Do not attempt to move from here. Do not touch anything until I come back.’
He stared until she left and stared some more as he attempted to make sense of this new world he had found himself in. His parents were dead. He remembered his mother explaining the term to him. Death was natural. Like how Santa prepares gifts for the children of the world, the people of the world have to prepare a gift for nature. When people die they give their body as a gift to nature but their soul will go on and be happy. He hoped his mum and dad were happy but wasn't sure why he couldn't join them. A coldness creeped upon him. No.. he shouldn’t join them. Life was important?
‘ It’s good that you’re alive’.
Yes, Harry agreed with that thought. He got to meet Santa, he couldn't do that if he was dead. He wondered if his parents were watching. The tall lady had said to call her ‘Ant Petunia’. He wasn’t sure what that meant, she was too big to be an ant but he should probably listen to her. Her voice sounded scary. Curling around himself, he sat on the floor and glanced around the room. It was very different to home. For one, it was much too stagnant. There were no floating lights and the table was too still. He poked at it, wondering if it’ll dance but nothing happened.
Disappointed, he ignored it and focused on the pictures on the table. The lady and a circle with a head. On closer inspection, the circle was another child. Harry had never seen someone so round before but he was excited. Maybe they can play together? A warm feeling flooded through him. It gets boring playing with grown ups, maybe he could finally make a friend! They could play catch and run around and play hide and seek and pretend to be pirates or vanquish monsters or even - his train of thought was interrupted with the unlocking of a door. A giant man walked in, his boots stomping and breath heavy. A protruding belly banged against the suitcase he appeared to be carrying and he was shouting for a ‘Dudley’ in a gruff manner, though there was a loving tone to it.
Behind him the child from the picture followed, every bit as large as it made him appear. The two of them made quite an image and Harry was reminded of a family of hippos. The child dawdled behind him seemingly attempting to mimic his father’s saunter but failing due to his small stature. They had yet to notice the new presence in their home as they each made their way upstairs. Harry wondered when the lady would introduce them. She said that they weren't family, but that didn't mean that they couldn't be friends. A loud shout jolted his fantasising yet again. It sounded like the very large man, it bellowed and stomping followed. Harry wondered if hippos made this much noise too. The shouting continued before it dwindled down and the silence returned. Restless, Harry went back to the table. Maybe it needed everyone here to dance? The furniture may prefer an audience.
He poked it again. Nothing. Poke. Nothing.
‘Try harder’
Poke. Poke.Poke.
Nothing.
Frustrated, Harry poked even harder and faster but the results were the same.
‘ You must will it to move with all your might’
Harry thought that was reasonable enough. Squeezing his eyes shut he imagined the table dancing and everyone laughing and his parents clapping. He wanted the table to dance. He needed it to dance.
Poke.
Nothing.
Dejected, he turned away and pouted, it was probably a bad dancer anyways. Then all of a sudden he felt something nudge his back. Shocked, he turned around to see the table leg wiggling. It wasn’t dancing per say, but Harry doesn't mind.
‘Hello Mr. Table’
The table leg wiggled even harder. Harry figured this was furniture-speak for hello.
‘Will you dance for me and my new friends Mr.Table?’ He asked it politely. He wasn't sure why, but he had a feeling that manners were important. It was probably kinder too. The leg wiggled and suddenly the other leg joined it. The table swayed left to right, left to right. Giggling, Harry clapped along to the beat which seemed to make the table sway even harder. It was at this moment that the original family had graced the room with their presence and it was at this moment that Harry realised the truth.
‘ WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING BOY!’ The bellowing shouting was directed at him this time. The table stopped dancing and crouched.
Aunt Petunia cleared her throat, and the red faced man stopped but he seemed to grow even redder, as if he would burst.
‘Boy, stop at once! I told you to touch nothing. Are you so stupid as to not understand such a simple task?”
Cowed, Harry looked down and wished with all his might that the table would just disappear. Without it, he wouldn't be in trouble after all. Unfortunately, for Harry, he was the type of child who would get what he wished for and the table suddenly disappeared from the room. He did not notice, but the Dursleys surely did. With his head down, he wasn't able to see the hand that was approaching him and his cheek suddenly stung.
‘Look me in the eye boy’
He lifted his head and flinched. Aunt Petunia's face was cold and her eyes piercing. His cheek was tingling and so were his eyes, They blurred as tears began to fall down. Why did she do that? He was just trying to help..
‘ This will be the last time such nonsense is done in our house, Remember that we are doing this out of kindness. You are not normal. You're a freak and you will always be a freak, but in this home you will try your best to appear normal. You will not speak of these, these things that you can do. You will be polite to my family, and you will never, and I say never do something like this again. Do you understand me?”
Harry nodded, his shoulder shaking slightly.
‘ This is my husband Vernon Dursley. You will refer to him as sir or Uncle and my son Dudley is upstairs. You will not interact with him, do not attempt to poison his mind with your filthy behaviours. ‘
Harry continued nodding. There was not much else he could do. It seemed that his friendship would remain a fantasy. Her nails suddenly scratched his arm as she dragged him across the house to the stairwell. They were digging quite deep, he wasn’t sure if it was an accident. The door under the stairwell swung open. A small cot had been placed within it, his swaddle draped across, the only colourful thing he could see. A flickering naked bulb hung above it and he could see a glinting silver thread above.
‘This will be your room. Meals will be provided when I say so, and you will be helping with the house chores. This is not a hotel. Now get in, we don’t want to hear any more of you until dinner’
The door slammed behind him.
He finally understood. Dumble-something was right. He was not Santa. Santa would not bring him to these people. Unless he had been bad, but he was sure that he had been good this year. Mum had promised after all. Sitting on the cot, he brought his swaddle around himself. He did not sink into the mattress, but he imagined that he was back home with his soft bed and fluffy pillows and the red curtains draped across the frame. When he closed his eyes, he could almost feel it- almost.
This room was cold. It felt colder than the rest of the house and was much smaller too, The light kept flickering and he could see a line of ants moving along the edge of the wall. At least he had some roommates. Letting out a silent breath, he let sleep take him until dinner.
Dinner was not a pleasant affair. In fact, Harry would have preferred omitting it from his day completely but Aunt Petunia had insisted and dragged him to the table with the rest of her family. A steaming cottage pie welcomed him from his slumber and the smell wafted through the house. She served her husband and Vernon portions of magnanimous quantity, herself a small quantity and for him a pitiful half scoop. Harry did not complain, he wasn't sure if it would have helped but it seemed as if his face had done the talking for him.
‘ You will eat what you are given, and you will be grateful for it boy. Freaks like you shouldn't deserve such hospitality. Now what do you say to your Aunt who slaved away all day to prepare this wonderful meal for us all’
‘Thank you’ Harry murmured and stuffed his mouth with a bite. It smelt better than it tasted.
He wished he had met Santa instead of Dumble-something.