Childhood Dreams
Harry was born with a head of pitch-black hair, just like his fathers, and as he stumbles his way through his first steps, his first word, the first time he flew on a training broom his dad made just for him, it stayed that way. Even through that devastating Samhain night in Godric's hollow, through being left on a doorstep in the bitingly cold November night, all the way until he was three years old, and like most babies and toddlers his hair started to turn a different colour, a pretty auburn just like his mother.
Petunia hated it and if it wasn’t for her own son's hair changing as he grew older, she’d insist it was a freak thing and forcibly dye his hair, but she didn’t want to risk Vernon turning any of his vitriol towards her precious baby, so she said nothing. Only when he had grown to be six and his hair had turned a dark blood red did she dare say anything, she bought the cheapest black hair dye she could find and bathed that disgusting hair that turned too dark to be like her sisters a couple years ago. She ignored the redness on his scalp and that he said it burned and followed the instructions on the box. Three days later it was back to that freakish red. She gave up after 2 months and more money than the brat deserved worth of hair dye. She gave up trying to shave his head to a buzz cut after several tries when it first started going red. She made him wear a hat even in the house as a compromise.
She has no idea when or where he got the assortment of beanies he now has but she told him she didn't care as long as he didn’t steal from her and if he got caught he better not dare think she or Vernon would bail him out. (Years later she will wonder if she made a mistake neglecting him as she did, telling him not to get caught, but by then it was far too late.) He seemed to test her words too. Next time they’d been forced to bring the thing with them when going out he looked directly in her eyes, which was strange enough as he barely ever made eye contact with them, as he carefully took the wallet out of the lady’s purse at the table next to theirs, took out a chunk of cash and carefully put the wallet back. She didn’t say a word and no one else noticed. (She’ll wonder if this too was a mistake as she pondered her regrets.)
Harry doesn’t remember when his hair was black, but he did find the “faulty” family photos Petunia threw in a junk drawer where he’d been in frame somehow. There weren't many, only a few and he was tempted to throw them away, but he was strangely fascinated with how he looked as a baby so he kept them anyway, hidden in the loose board in the back wall of his cupboard.
Harry was told by his first-grade teacher that it was normal for kids' hair to change color as they got older and that it was just genetics and DNA settling itself (whatever that means). He doesn’t think it was normal for black hair dye to just disappear from his hair in the matter of a couple days nor does he think it’s normal for his hair to completely grow back overnight so he kept those incidents to himself. He’s seven when he starts reading in the school library at recess to avoid Dudley, he’s banned two months later when his cousin figured out where he was hiding and tore up every book in the small stack he’d brought to the corner. It’s a month later when he’s sure Petunia doesn’t care if he leaves the house as long as he finished all his chores (perfectly to her standards) and was back in time to cook dinner that he ventured to the local library. It was only a week after that did he start wondering if his freakishness was magic, it would make sense as any hint of fantasy on the telly or a breath of the word magic sent them into a right tizzy. That’s not even to mention that he turned his teacher's hair blue, seemingly teleported to his school's roof, that if he wished hard enough his cupboard would suddenly be warm in the cold winters and- yeah okay it was probably magic. He started to look for books about it and at first he only found it in fantasy and fiction books, it wasn’t until a woman was hired to replace an older man that had worked there that he found a different source that mentioned magic. He had asked her if they had any new books about it and after he’d told her he had already read all of the fantasy books on the shelf she promised to look in the storage room for him. The next week she found him in his little corner and asked if he wanted to look in the back with her. He agreed a little wary of being alone in a backroom in an empty library with a stranger, but he persevered with the need to know more about himself. It took them a bit, but they eventually found books mentioning witchcraft, and even some more fantasy ones but he was more interested in the books that treated magic like it was real.
She offered to let him check them out, but he wasn’t going to risk Dudley tearing them and being banned let alone the disaster that would commence if his aunt or uncle saw them. She did let him stay in the back room to read them if he wanted. Another worker who had come by after they’d found them had told her they don’t put those on the shelves anymore because too many religious people would steal them to throw away or burn or just tear them up in the library. He asked why they would do that which led to the older person supplying him with several books on different religions too, which were also not to be put on the shelves. He scrunched his nose in distaste at the thought of people trying to destroy books just because they didn’t agree with them.
He started practicing the things he remembers happening first, it took a while, and it tired him out really fast but after a couple years he was able to do everything he remembered happening accidentally. Except teleporting, the few times he tried it he got nowhere and ended up completely drained of energy, so he put that aside for later. While the witchcraft books he had been given as well as the ones the librarians had ordered just for him focused more on spirituality and nature than what he seemed to be able to do he still liked them. Pretty much every book mentioned meditating, so he eventually tried it, and it was very boring and he did put it off for a while but eventually decided to try doing it for a week straight when he woke up and went to sleep to see if it did anything. To his surprise, his head felt so much clearer, and it felt like he was breathing easier. He has no idea how to make any sense of that but he decided to keep doing it. He did skip sometimes if he was super tired or just forgot but he stuck with it mostly, and the longer he did it the better he felt, and it was even easier to do some of the magic he’d practiced and some of the ones he’d gotten stuck on was easier too.
Harry had been saving money and the little things he nicked from people. He was starting to think that he maybe had a problem when he realized he had an entire backpack filled with the stuff he'd stolen including said backpack and thought that maybe he should lay off a little so he restricted it to just money and food. The other stuff he had was mainly just clothes and trinkets anyway, like a hairbrush, comb, some makeup he’d been curious about but didn’t dare try if he couldn’t immediately wipe it off for fear of his relatives' reactions. Notebooks and clothes he used all the time so they weren’t in his hidden backpack, it mostly consisted of books and he had to stop taking those from stores a while back for fear of no room. He never stole from the library though, they were too nice for him to risk it. The person he usually talked to had given him a lot of the books they didn’t put on the shelves and while he knew it was a risk keeping books on witchcraft where the Dursley’s resided he couldn’t say no to his first gifts.
Harry was ten when he made a mistake. He had accidentally tucked one of the witchcraft books instead of his school books under his mattress. He was just ever so lucky, he sarcastically thinks to himself, that his aunt chose that day to go into his cupboard for some of the cleaning supplies still kept in there. Dudley went to Piers for a weekend sleepover and Vernon was on a business trip until Wednesday (when he thinks back on this he wonders if this is what doomed him or saved him that day). She yelled and slapped him more than once and he has no idea why he decided to forgo all sense and scream back when she said, “You-you freak! I knew I shouldn't have taken you out of the goodness of my heart. I should have dropped you off at an orphanage the moment I noticed you on the doorstep! Just like your freak parents! Oh how I wished you never darkened our doorstep you- you-” Aunt Petunia screamed at him. It struck him then what she meant when they called him and his parents freaks, it clicked then that his parents must’ve been magic too. “My parents were magic?” he asked, cutting her off, voice quite like it always was, even if Petunia acted like he’d been the one to slap her and not the other way around. “I- I- Of course they were! That God forsaken world took my sister and- and indoctrinated her in the devil’s craft! With those- with those chocolate frog spawn and-and teacups into mice! And YOU- you're just like all of those freaks imposing on my good family and making us take care of you even though I never wanted you in the first place! That evil man made me take you or else he’d do horrible things to us all!” It hurt, gods did it hurt hearing her say these things, it felt like that little childish part of him that had still hoped he could win her love shriveled up and died.
“There are more people with magic? What man? Why would he do that?” he yelled back. At this point his aunt's face was visibly red despite the caked on layers of makeup and she grabbed him by the arm making him wince at the bruise he could already tell would form later, and dragged him up the stairs. He was terrified, he had no idea what she would do to him and for a moment his mind went to the handgun they kept in their closet. At least until she let him go and ordered him to stay before grabbing some weird metal stick from her room he didn’t know the name of. Instead of the hit he had braced for he heard a *thunk* and opened his eyes to see the attic ladder he never knew existed. She yelled at him to go up and he was afraid she would lock him up there but the wild look in her eyes made him go up anyway. He was very surprised when instead of shutting him in she followed him up. She practically stomped over to a corner, heels clicking louder than usual due to her anger, she dragged a trunk from behind an old broken vanity that he could tell had been white with old peeling and cracked flower stickers on it.
She grabbed him and shoved him towards the trunk hissing at him to open it then pulled a shoe box out of one of the vanity drawers tossing it on the trunk saying some more choice words before going down the ladder and shutting him in. He really shouldn’t have been surprised; it's what he had been expecting anyway. He doesn’t know whether to be grateful or wary that she had left the book that started this whole bizarre situation on top of the trunk. He carefully walked over to the offending book and the shoe box picking them up, placing them on the vanity before turning back to the trunk. He realized that the initials H.A.P.B were embroidered in pretty green thread in swooping cursive. It took longer than he’d like to admit for it to click that these were probably his initials with extra letters (He refuses to think about possibly another lie the Dursley’s told him). He tried to open it but it didn’t budge, he searched for a key but didn’t find one that fit, sitting in front of the trunk he pressed his thumb to the lock letting out a yelp at the prick on his finger. Looking for the offending splinter he saw none but the glowing symbols, a couple he thought he might’ve seen in the books he’s read. He tried opening it again and it opened easily, it didn’t take long to see the inside was much bigger than the outside. Inside was a bunch of baby things, toys, clothes, a diaper bag, powder formula that probably expired years ago, it looked like it was packed in a rush. He picked out the odd things out first, like the honest to gods scroll and the leather bound diary that looked like scales. He read the scroll first because it seemed interesting and the shortest thing. It took a few read overs for him to relate it to instructions on how to use the trunk that apparently had multiple compartments *and was magic*, he most certainly didn’t have a wand which seemed required so he placed the scroll back and grabbed the book. The lock pricked his thumb when he went to open the latch, the first page stood in purple ink and flowing cursive was the sentence “Property of Lily Ophelia Evans”. It was so simple yet he stared at it longer than he’d like to admit.
He finally turned the page and started to read, “13 June, 1978. Today I graduated from Hogwarts and I thought it appropriate to start a new diary like I did when I first started there. We are already halfway to London and this whole time I've been searching for Sev. I wanted to talk to him and apologize for not talking for so long, I miss my dearest friend…” Harry read every word he got all the way to 1980 when he finally fell asleep probably close to morning, and if he ended up crying himself to sleep, well that’s between him and his mother’s diary. When he woke up it was daytime, light streaming through the tiny window in the top corner, he had no idea when he fell asleep or what time it was. He got up and tried the ladder but it didn’t budge, he didn’t have much hope in the first place but he was still disappointed amongst all the other swirling emotions from the events of yesterday. He went back to the diary and put his finger in between the page he left off on to flip the ribbon so it held his place, he couldn’t help but read the page. “31 October, 1981. I woke up today and I couldn't help but dread it. I can feel something is wrong, I've been anxious all day and I don’t care how much James says I'm being paranoid I want to leave. I never wanted to switch from behind the ancient family wards to a house with nothing but the fidelius and what wards I've been able to put up without his notice. Harry has been extra fussy today too, I don’t know if it’s just because I am on edge or if he has that strange feeling too. He’s very perceptive even as a baby, I'm hoping this means he’s more like me than James. Sev thinks something is going to come to a head soon too, we’ve agreed to meet up tomorrow morning but I don’t know if we have that long. I already packed everything Harry and I will need without James’ notice. It pains me to leave him here but he refuses to listen and see reason, and I refuse to unnecessarily endanger my baby…” Harry carefully moves the ribbon to the page he fell asleep on and closes the diary placing it beside him.
He moves to rummage further around the trunk, and he finds a leather bracelet, this time a deep red color with the same scale pattern as the diary.
He puts it on, it must’ve been his mom’s, turns his wrist to look at a different angle when suddenly a stick pops out and he most certainly didn’t scream a little or jump. At all. After a minute he picks it up is hit with the thought that it must be a wand. He scrambles for the instructions and fumbles to follow them, closing the trunk and pressing the wand to the lock and thinking of the next compartment. He opens it to find his mother’s clothes, he picks up a green sweater and puts it on, his face in the sleeves. He sits like that for a while before pulling the sleeves up and going to the next compartment. This one has an actual cauldron and a lot of herbs and things in glass bottles. After picking up one with snake skin he puts it down carefully and moves to the next one. What he finds next is books, so many books that he hopes answers some of the questions overwhelming his head.
He reads until his aunt opens the ladder for the attic and tells him to get down to make breakfast for Dudley. It’s only after he uses the loo, showers very quickly, brushes his teeth, carefully folds his mothers sweater and sets it in his cupboard and walks into the kitchen that he sees the clock- it's nearly lunchtime on Monday. He carefully does some maths. he had been locked in the attic for sixty-seven hours and 45 minutes roughly. He isn’t sure why he seems shocked, he’s been locked in his cupboard for longer. He decides to set it aside for later and continues to make lunch. Harry and Petunia are sitting at the table eating their small portion, though not by choice for Harry as they wait for Ms. Piers to drop Dudley off. “I’ve given it some thought, since you know about your and your parents' freakishness. When you turn eleven you will get a letter to that magic school.” Petunia says practically spitting the last words. “We don’t want to deal with your kind asking questions and bothering our family more than necessary. You will move into Dudley’s second bedroom today, you will keep it clean and you will continue to do all your chores. You will take that blasted trunk with you when you leave. You will get no special treatment from me, understand?” She says. “Yes, Aunt Petunia.” Harry replies stunned and unable to decide if this weekend was the universe fucking with him or if for once he’s actually gotten lucky. They finish eating in silence and Harry had just finished washing the dishes from preparing and eating lunch when Dudley comes bursting into the house. He ignores when Petunia gently coaxes him to his rooms to “put his things away and tell her about how much fun he’s had”. Harry isn’t surprised when ten minutes later Dudley is screeching about how it’s his bedrooms and Harry can’t have any of them.