Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Despite the rough start, Harry was starting to settle into Privet Drive. Looking back, he would say that it was even pleasant when he first arrived. Nothing strange had occurred since that day and tried his best to blend in with the other children. Starting reception had definitely helped him. There were so many children there, and he had actually made friends! He wasn’t allowed to talk about them in the house, and god forbid he even attempts to acknowledge Dudley’s one friend but he had his own!
Miss Cook was their teacher and she knew all kinds of things and told them new facts every day. Dudley would share the facts with his parents while Harry would whisper them to the spiders and ants in his room each night. Maybe counting will help the ants bring more food home. He hoped it helped.
His favourite thing was the classroom. Brilliant oranges, reds, blues and greens were everywhere clashing terribly with each other but brightening up the room. The carpet was worn and when he opened his eyes during nap time he was able to see outlines of spills of paint. Painting and drawings were up on almost every surface- even his own! The fridge was reserved for Dudley, so he was glad Miss Cook allowed him to share the wall with the other children.
‘You deserve more than this.’
He nodded along. He had worked super hard and made sure to colour inside the lines. His drawing was considerably better than the hasty scribble Dudely had made but those were the rules. He had wanted to give it to Miss Cook originally to say thank you but she steadfastly insisted that he give it to his aunt instead as a ‘Thank you for being so nice and taking you in, you poor dear.’
That was a new nickname for him. ‘Poor dear.’ He liked it better than boy but he wished people would just call him Harry. That was his real name.
‘Your name will be known by all soon.’
Yes, he was going to work extra hard and make sure everybody knew who Harry was. He doesn't need Aunt Petunia, not when he could have the world know him. Still, he was mainly aiming for Miss Cook for now. It was easier to start small and build his way up. He wasn't allowed to use any of his tricks to help him either, he was a little afraid of what his aunt would do in retaliation if he even attempted to, but he was sure he could create something spectacular. It had been a long time since the incident, maybe he had lost his ability
‘Go outside and use it.’
He wasn't sure.
‘Go outside and use it.’
He relished class time. It would be awful if he missed any new facts.
‘The teachers all leave the room during nap time. Go then.’
That was…true. He hadn't thought about it before but they were left all alone for nap time so they could sleep. That would be the perfect time to slip out! Perhaps he could create a super special gift for Miss Cook that will be put up on the golden wall. That wall was dedicated for the best of the best. Everyone knew, and nobody had anything up there yet. Harry dreamed of being the first one to get the golden sticker and have his art presented.
He was trembling, this was going to be amazing. He could barely remember what they had covered during class, but he made sure to slip an extra piece of paper down his pants and stuff some colours in his pocket. He had to be prepared, there was only so much time to try. Miss Cook and the other teachers herded them round for their nap, assigning them to their sleeping bags before dimming the lights and leaving the room.
Twenty breaths drew in and out until they were all in a deep slumber. Harry held his own breath and gently squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to appear as inconspicuous as possible. It was difficult with the paper scratching his chest and the pencils poking out of his pocket but he managed. One eye open. He carefully surveyed the room. They all looked like they were asleep but there was no guarantee that they didn't have the same plan.
‘Remember the table.’
Oh right! Harry squeezed his eyes again and wished as hard as he could to be invisible. He wished and wished and wished until he felt something warm surge through him. Looking down at himself, he didn't appear any different but maybe it works the other way. Still being as quiet as he can, Harry slowly crept out of his bag and tiptoed to the playground door.
Locked.
‘You can unlock it. You know how.’
His eyes met the lock. He didn't own the key and wasn't sure if he could open it without one. Could he wish it was open too?
‘Alohamora’
Alohamora. What an odd word. He had never heard it before yet, it felt familiar on his tongue. Alohomora. Saying it caused him to feel warm and tingly, just like his invisible wish!
Hurriedly, he whispered the word to the door, over and over until- click.
The door opened.
Euphoria ran through him. He had done that ;he was able to open a door with a word. What else could he do? Making his way to the playground was a quick endeavour and he sat by the wall and brought out his utensils. His knees hurt from the harsh concrete and he shivered from the cold but he was determined. He had a special talent, and he was going to use it without Aunt Petunia finding out.
Bringing the pencils close to his chest, he wished and wished, he wasn't sure what he was wishing for. He just wanted something spectacular. Trembling hands brought lead to paper. Blooms of colour exploded onto the page, a myriad of blues and purples and even colours he hadn't grabbed. They danced along the page, twisting and turning until a crude outline of Miss Cook was formed, waving at him from the paper.
Harry let out a gasp, pencils falling to the ground. He made that. He had made that!
‘A truly astounding power’
Power. That was the word. This was power and he was powerful! How could Aunt Petunia want him to hide something so, so -
‘Magnificent? She is a jealous hag.’
He snickered to himself. If only she could see him now, he bet she’d faint from shock! Mesmerised by his own creation, Harry sat and stared at it for a while, forgetting his original location until a looming shadow blocked his view.
‘Hello Harry. How did you get out here huh?” Miss Cook asked him, her hand on her hip. Harry jumped up, flinching at her sudden intrusion and rushed to grab his masterpiece. At first glance his teacher did not seem very angry or upset but one can never be too careful.
‘Miss Cook I have a surprise for you’ and without a further thought he thrust the paper towards her doing his best to avoid crumpling it. He smiled and glanced up at her, his head straining at the height difference but excited to receive praise.
‘Now Harry! You know it's not nice to play tricks. Why I oughta call your Aunt for this behaviour. Now get back inside, you were meant to be napping!’was the stern reply he got instead. He looked at his paper again. It was empty. How could this have happened? He knew it was there, where did it go? The playground swam around his vision as he let Miss Cook haul him back inside. He just didn't quite understand what could have possibly gone wrong.
‘It’s for your own good. If she tattled to your aunt about your power…’
For once he couldn't agree with the voice. She was already tattling to his Aunt, What was the point of doing tricks if he had to hide. If he had to pretend to be like the others. Why couldn't they all be like him instead? Now he was a naughty child and Miss Cook hated him just like Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon and Dudley and-. He stopped when he realised he was back in the classroom again, The other children seemed to be waking up for their naps, each stretching and yawning at each other. Had he been gone that long?
Miss Cook returned him to his spot and tried his best to appear as casual as possible in hope of avoiding the others. This time his mission was successful but when he saw the disappointed look on Miss Cook's face he knew it was over. At least he enjoyed it while it lasted. Harry was forced into time out for the remainder of the day.
When his Aunt arrived to collect him and Dudley he made sure to appear as small as possible, trailing after them with his head down, shoulders hunched, he wasn't sure if Miss Cook had made through with her punishment. The radio silence from his Aunt was common enough that he couldn't figure it out. Remaining silent was his best bet.
Struggling to clamber onto his seat, he did his best to tug on his seatbelt while his Aunt scoffed as she tenderly helped her son into his own, plopping a wet kiss on his cheek in the process. The ride home consisted of awful cheery music and the usual interrogation between mother and son.
‘Oh my darling Dudley, how was school today? Were you the best today? I know you were!”
“Yea mom I got to colour a bunch of stuff and pushed over Robby because he stole my marker. It's ok I made him say sorry to me and now he’s going to show me his new toy car tomorrow. Can I have a new toy car? Please please please please?” Dudley whined kicking his legs and attempting to reenact his ‘heroic’ moment with the air in front of him
‘My little boy is already becoming a man. Look at you teaching others manners. Let's tell your dad and we’ll see about that car’ she preened, the knowledge that her son was bullying the others flying over her head. Dudley was perfect, after all, he could do no wrong. Not like the pitiful excuse for a boy that resided amongst them.
Harry had offered no comments during this tale. It was a common occurrence in the household after all, though he wondered where all the toys Dudley owned had gone. His room could explode at this point! He wasn't allowed to ask for toys or touch Dudley’s but sometimes, if he was super good and did all his chores early, he was allowed to have something old that Dudley had broken. That was how he had acquired his own meagre collection- though he was trying to fix them.
He kept his guard up the entire time, even when they reached Privet Drive. As soon as they entered the home, his Aunt made her move like a giant shark. She bared her teeth at him and motioned for him to follow her.
‘I had the funniest thing happen to me today. I had a call from poor Miss Cook informing me that you were playing nasty tricks on her instead of sleeping like the other normal children. She thinks you’re acting out because you don’t have enough attention. Is that what you want, boy? Attention?’ she snarled at him ‘ Well it's your lucky day! You’re about to receive a bucketload of it. Give me your hand.
Harry gradually gave his hand to his Aunt, fingers trembling while her bony fingers wrapped around it, She trailed around his hands, softly with circular motions before abruptly slapping it. He cried out from the shock.
‘Now now, let's not make any more trouble. I wouldn't have had to do this if you were normal. Normal boys get rewards but nasty freaks like you who want attention will be getting this.
She slapped his hand again. It did not hurt as much as it surprised Harry. She had not laid her hand on him ever since the incident. He hoped a third time wouldn't come in the future, After a couple more hits she stopped and sent him to his room.
He was safe in his room. It was the only thing that was truly his and it meant that they forgot he was there sometimes, which Harry preferred, but for once being inside brought no happiness. He curled up in a foetal position and sobbed. He wished he could disappear. He hated it here- he wanted his parents. When would death come for him? He wanted his soul to go and be happy too. It wasn't fair.
‘NO! Do not every think like that again child’
Here was the voice again. It wasn't always there but sometimes it whispered things to him. Sometimes he pretended it was a very special friend that belonged to him. Like a ghost best friend! It never talked back to him, though. It didn't sound like him but it was in his head so it had to be his own. He shrugged it off and rolled onto his back, the lone bulb illuminating the room. One day he was going to leave and find a new house where he could be special. He just had to wait.
—----------------------
Growing up did nothing to improve his home situation, but Harry discovered that with age came two things: Responsibilities and Independence. He was more stoked with the latter as it meant he was allowed to go to the park all by himself. He was a big boy now! That was one of his favourite things to do. It was an escape from the household and the life he was stuck with.
He had established a routine for himself; mornings would be dedicated to making breakfast for the Dursleys (he still received the smallest of portions.) and going to school. School was interesting. As he and his cousin moved up grades their attitudes towards the place had changed. At least Harry assumed Dudley had, there was no way to truly tell. Harry preferred to lay low and not stand out to avoid any trouble while Dudley preferred being the class leader. He led with an iron fist which is why poor Harry had not been able to befriend a single child at St Charles Primary school. Lunches were spent hiding behind bushes in the playground for they were only allowed indoors if it was raining. He was sure that his knees were permanently stained with mud now.
Harry Hunting was a new addition to his life. He preferred thinking of it as training. Always on the smaller side, he discovered that he can be quite fast when he wanted to be and more often than not was able to escape from Dudley and his gang ; but he had to let them win sometimes otherwise Dudley would try and punish him at home. Still just laying there as multiple fists battered away at his body, he wondered when it would get better.
‘Soon you will be rid of these filthy beasts.’
That was an amusing thought. His cousin really was beast-like with his large stature and overwhelming appetite. At least his small portions meant he could avoid looking like the Dursleys. He would always stand out.
Back home he would do Dudley's homework for him, get his own thrown away and help his Aunt with lunch. His cooking repertoire was still growing, so he had yet to graduate to fully-fledged meals. Cooking was one of his favourite chores. He liked the idea of creating something amazing from a few bare ingredients. It reminded him of his special ability in a way, he wondered if he would be able to mix those together. That was a thought for the back burner. Aunt Petunia was also calmer in the kitchen. She always seemed to be on some sort of diet that he appeared to be following seeing as he was as boney as she appeared to be.
As soon as the washing up was finished, he usually had one or two additional chores to complete before he was left to his own devices. This was his favourite time.
‘Aunt petunia, may I go to the park? I finished all my chores for the day’
A sniff would be his usual response with a curt nod, and that was all he needed to rush out of Privet Drive. Although never actually said aloud, he assumed that he had a curfew and he tried his best to adhere to one though he didn't own a clock so it was up to fate to decide if he returned on time.
The park was also when the voice was most active. It elected to stay silent at school and home and only appeared to make scathing comments or reassure him but at the park it transformed for this was where he was able to practise his ability. The voice loved his ability, and he had no qualms in that. It seemed to understand how to help him do more with it so he often chose to listen to it. Lately, they had been practising levitating insects after he had graduated from leaves. The heavier something is, the harder it is to levitate.
‘Make sure to direct your power to maintain the levitation. Any fool can make something begin to float but only someone great can let it stay there- at your age in any case.’
He glowed at the underhanded praise as he moved the squirrel he had caught around an old oak tree performing loops and spins. It was enough to make himself queasy but he remembered reading somewhere that rodents couldn't vomit, he hoped that was true. Still watching the little thing fly around in the air was amazing. One day he would make Dudley float like this and he would definitely regurgitate his dinner. Now that was an idea.
‘You are progressing very well my child, Perhaps we should move on to something new for now. Remember to continue training this power though, busy hands achieve more than idle tongues.’
The warmth in his chest remained throughout the evening, even when he returned to Privet Drive, curling up on his pallet, a tattered blanket wrapping itself around him and ants crawling at his feet.
He was going to be great.