i remember when your head caught flame
Harry Potter tried his very best to be an ordinary child. His whole life was filled with attempts to be normal, just a regular kid with a regular family. He wished with all of his aching heart, on dark sleepless nights, that he could be plain and basic and not at all different from the kids in his neighbourhood. Not that those wishes ever really came true.
Harry wasn’t normal, not really. Not compared to his very normal relatives who he lived with. They were the epitome of normal. White, blond, non-queer people. His aunt was a stay at home mom to his cousin, Dudley, who went to his fancy schools and dressed in his fancy clothes. His uncle worked in an office, as normal men did, and made decent money, enough to provide for his small family. They were all clean cut, straight backed, normal people.
Harry was quite the opposite. He was definitely not white, and definitely not blond. Instead, he was brown with curly black hair that fell over his eyes and never stayed in the style he wanted it to. He was also what his uncle would consider a “transvestite”, born in a body that didn’t suit him at all. Not at all a normal, common sight in their little town of Surrey.
His uncle and aunt liked to pretend, cruelly and desperately, that he didn’t exist. When Harry cut his hair short and claimed that he was a boy at the ripe age of 7, his uncle beat him until he was unconscious and proceeded to act as though he hadn’t told him anything. It wasn’t as though they ever called him by his birth name, so calling himself Harry was easy enough. It was the fact that they called him “girl” that was discomforting to him— but he couldn’t do much against a man three times his size, and he could tolerate the gentle pains and reminders of his genitalia. It was much more preferable than the beatings he would receive if he protested.
At the age of 12, Harry was no longer allowed to attend school. He was instead forced to stay at home, cleaning and taking care of the house whilst the family went about their lives. None of his teachers had paid him much attention in primary school, so no one had noticed when the short “girl” didn’t show up for their seventh year. Or eighth. Or ninth. He wasn’t significant enough for people to not recognize his absence from secondary school.
On July 28th, Harry Potter made a decision.
He would leave. He would flee from the little home in Surrey, leave behind the family that had never treated him right. Harry would be free.
On July 29th, Harry Potter began planning.
He would leave at midnight, when everyone was in bed. He would pack the minimal belongings he had in a suitcase that his aunt never used, stolen from the back of her closet. He would grab some money from the little jar they kept on the counter— one used as a swear jar for his uncle— and pack it away along with some food. And then, when he was ready, he would head out the door and never look back.
On July 30th, Harry Potter prepared.
He carried out the basics of the plans he had made. He nabbed the suitcase, packed some of his things, and ensured that the evidence of his plan was hidden away. He even wrote out a note, not that he believed his relatives would really care much about it. And he ensured that he was sent to bed much earlier than normal that night, so he would get plenty of rest before his journey.
And at exactly 12:00 AM on July 31st, Harry Potter left.
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Harry never really knew how absolutely happy he would have felt, sprinting down the sidewalk away from the home he had lived in for his whole life. He never understood just how freeing it would be, but it was the best feeling he had felt in his life. The wind was in his hair, the suitcase he was carrying dragging quickly behind him. He was smiling, more than he had smiled in his life, and he finally, finally, felt like he was alive.
He knew, subconsciously, that this feeling probably wouldn’t last. That it was adrenaline, or whatever Vernon had called Dudley’s random bursts of energy after beating Harry up. But it didn’t matter, not now. He would deal with that once it happened. For now, Harry was going to embrace the pure joy he felt for as long as he could.
He ran for quite a long time, only slowing once he reached a bus stop. He had very minimal money, but considering that he really needed to get out of Surrey and into London.
He had only been to London once, when he was still too young to be left alone at home. He didn’t remember much of the trip, just that Dudley had gotten ice cream and candies and everything he had asked for, and when Harry had reached out to touch a toy he liked, Petunia had slapped him in the middle of the store and dragged him outside while Vernon and Dudley continued exploring.
The bus driver didn’t even look his way when he clambered on and dropped the required bills into the bin and walked to the back. Instead, he waited for Harry to sit, and drove off.
This was truly going to be a new beginning, he could feel it deep in his bones. Harry Potter was finally free, and ready for his new life to begin.