Harry woke instantly, not by the usual squawking of his infernal aunt, but by his overly-large cousin jumping on the stairs above his cupboard. Harry considered this for a moment but dismissed it as being due to his still sore bum. Aunt Petunia doesn’t want me to cook breakfast today, which might mean I’m not going to school.

Yesterday at school, Dudley and his gang had been trying to catch Harry during another one of their games of “Harry hunting.” Being chased around the playground during their break, Harry had become trapped behind the kitchens near the dumpsters. Having nowhere else to run and being quite scared of being hurt and left there behind the kitchens for no one to ever find him, Harry had tried to jump onto one of the dumpsters. Next thing he knew, he was looking down on a most interesting scene. Dudley and his gang were looking around stupidly, trying to complete their game. That is, until Harry let out a giggle at their foolishness, catching the attention of Piers Polkiss, who looked up to find Harry on the roof of the kitchens.

Unfortunately for Harry, Dudley went and told a teacher that Harry had climbed to the roof of the school and returned with said teacher, Mrs. Mason, before Harry could find a way down. Mrs. Mason never liked Harry and absolutely adored Dudley, as she was frequently asked over for tea during Aunt Petunia’s monthly book club meetings, more like gossip sessions, though. They were the ones during which Aunt Petunia told Mrs. Mason that Harry was a gigantic liar and made up excuses for everything they did, every bruise he had. Not that Mrs. Mason paid any attention to Harry anyway, but that Thursday evening, she had no choice. And, she called Aunt Petunia to tell her what mischief Harry had gotten into, “climbing the school walls, that’s not normal, Petunia.” But Aunt Petunia had simply assured her that he would be “dealt with” once he returned home and indeed Harry had; his aching bum a constant, painful reminder of what he had done.

But just what had he done? Uncle Vernon always said “no funny business” but Harry didn’t exactly know what that had meant to the man. After a right smart smacking, leaving his thighs a painful reddish hue as well as his bum, Harry was denied any meals until his uncle determined him worthy enough to eat. Well, if I hadn’t jumped up onto the roof, then I wouldn’t be here now. But the thing is that Harry had no idea how he was doing these freakish things. He didn’t want to be a freak, but that seemed all he was good for. If I would just stop doing these things, then the Dursleys would love me, act as though I was apart of their family. But, I’m nothing but a freak and a burden and all they want me to do is stop. So, I’ve just got to stop. Harry decided after Dudley banged on his cupboard while he passed it on his way to the kitchen that it would be best to stay and wait for either uncle or aunt to allow him to come out.

He sighed at the new layer of dust that was stomped out of the carpet above his head and began to wipe some of it away with the flannel he kept for washing. I wonder if I’ll get to go to school today. But Harry quickly decided that was a firm no. The Dursleys didn’t like it when Harry did better than their precious Dinky Duddydums on tests and homework. They even had a test today in math, which decreased Harry’s chances of going to school even more.

He lay back down to sleep; Aunt Petunia wouldn’t want him dozing off while tending to the windows or other nonsense he was required to do.

*~*~*~*

Harry awoke with a start, his voice already hoarse from screaming. He tried to stop the sound from coming, but the dream was just too vivid, too frightening, and too real. Before he knew it, the door to his cupboard was thrown open with so much force that the door bounced off the outside of the cupboard with a sharp bang and was promptly grabbed. Uncle Vernon wasted no time in dragging Harry out of the cupboard, knocking Harry’s head on the door frame as he did so, and hastily throwing him on the ground just inside the kitchen. Uncle Vernon’s face was an ugly eggplant color and he was only half dressed for work.

“You boy, are going to be weeding the garden today,” Uncle Vernon said in a deathly quiet whisper and Harry knew he was being let off easy.

“Yes, Uncle Vernon,” Harry replied without moving his eyes from his holey socks and starting on his way through the kitchen towards the garden behind the house, stopping only to slip on his too-big tattered trainers.

The garden really didn’t need weeding Harry realized as he positioned himself in between the rows of large fragrant flowers. More time to think of that dream, then, Harry thought as he began the mundane task of pulling the prickly weeds.

It seemed like I was flying…I can remember the stars; they were really bright. And there was something above me. Like, wiry thread, or a birds nest. Harry giggled as he remembered the dream further; it was a man, and his beard! It tickled when he leaned forward over me. But what was he driving? Before Harry could continue this train of thought, his Aunt Petunia leaned out the kitchen door and yelled at him to stay put and finish in the garden.

Like I have anywhere to go. But the more Harry thought about it, as he saw the Dursley’s car drive away with all three of his relatives in it, he could use some food in his aching stomach. So he made his way carefully to the kitchen door, which was left unlocked. Seeing a loaf of bread on the counter with a knife lying next to it on a cutting board Harry sliced off a piece. He promptly ripped it in half, placing one piece in his trouser’s pocket and the other in a hole in his cupboard. He then used a dirty glass from breakfast to pour himself some milk. Breakfast complete, Harry quickly made sure he didn’t leave any footprints in the house and that everything remained in place for his aunt’s arrival.

That done, Harry ventured back out into the sunlight to continue weeding the garden, all the while thinking about his dream. But it was silently drifting away along with the clouds that could have breached the continuous stream of harsh sunlight that was streaming down upon the yard. There was something about my parents…and a green flash. Unable to supply his imagination with any hint of truth as to what the dream could mean, Harry contented himself pulling weeds once again.

At least I won’t have Mrs. Mason asking why I do good on the homework and not on the tests. That thought cheered Harry up little, as the sun was directly overhead and he was overheated. But he had to keep weeding, as he’d only finished three-quarters of the over-large garden. So Harry turned his attention back to the weeds, attempting to ignore the bugs buzzing around his head and his sticky neck and back.

By the time Harry had finished the garden, the sun had barely begun its decent across the sky. Not wanting to get caught without doing work, Harry found a pair of garden shears and began to trim the hedges. I’ll show them I can earn my keep, that I’m not a burden, I’m not. I’ll even stop doing the freakish things. By the time the sun was shining directly into Harry’s eyes, he had finished weeding the garden, trimming the hedges, along with the tall grass growing between them and picked up all the clippings and weeds and put them into a pile behind the shed in the back corner of the yard. And after all that, Aunt Petunia was still not back. I should be able to get some leftovers from yesterday and hear her coming with enough time to get back outside. I’ll just sneak quietly.

With bare feet, unwilling to risk his now even dirtier trainers, Harry made his way stealthily into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, he selected several containers of semi-old food that Aunt Petunia would probably throw away once she combed the fridge during her weekly-clean. With a paper towel placed on the counter, Harry began to scoop and pour tiny portions of each of the dishes with his fingers. Closing each container and shaking them a bit to re-settle its contents, Harry placed them back precisely where they were previously located.

Taking his paper towel of food back behind the shed to see and hear when his relatives returned home, Harry began to eat in the shade. It was a small meal, but he just couldn’t risk Aunt Petunia realizing that he’d snuck inside to eat. Finishing much too soon as there wasn’t really that much food, Harry placed the paper towel deep in the clipping pile and went to pick up the hedge clippers from where he previously left it lay. Just as Harry was wondering what else he could do outside before the Dursleys returned, he heard a car in the driveway and Dudley’s incessant whine. He was going on about the new motor bike that a boy down the road had just gotten, for it was Dudley’s birthday in a few weeks and that thought made Harry groan.

Each year, Dudley received far too many gifts and nearly half of them were broken within forty-eight hours of their unwrapping. But the ways in which they were broken were almost always due to Harry’s stealing it, touching it, or looking at it. For Dudley knew that Harry could do freakish things, they happened quite often in his presence. However, Harry’s aunt and uncle never believed him when he explained that he never went into Dudley’s room and certainly never touched any of his toys. But they never believed Harry’s story over their precious Ickle Dudleykins’. Harry knew he did freakish things, but he never broke any of Dudley’s toys, purposely or otherwise.

Harry took his time putting away the hedge clippers in the shed until Aunt Petunia called him inside and ordered him to put away the bags from the car. Harry hurried to comply, dodging Dudley’s elbow as he walked past. After successfully placing all the groceries away and correctly stowing the bags, Aunt Petunia ordered Harry to his cupboard. He stood awkwardly, staring at his slightly dirty feet, wondering if he should just go to bed. But no, this was an emergency.

“May I use the loo, Aunt Petunia?” At her incredulous look, Harry hastily added, “I’ve been outside all day and I weeded the garden, trimmed the hedges and placed all the clippings in the pile behind the shed, I’ve only just come in as you called me.”

Harry kept his gaze firmly planted on the floor now as he could feel his aunt glaring at him down her pointed nose, her lips an almost invisible line. Finally she relented, saying, “You’ve got five minutes.”

That was all Harry needed to make his way hurriedly to the bathroom where he used the loo, drank water with his hand from the faucet as cold as it could go, and wet a flannel to take off some of the grime that had accumulated since his last proper washing. Not wanting to erase any good thoughts Aunt Petunia might have had of him at taking too long in the loo, Harry was soon walking down the stairs to his cupboard to get some much needed sleep. His arms were especially tired from all the pulling and cutting he had done today. And it felt good to lie down for the night. Maybe I’ll dream of the flying man and my mum and dad again.

*~*~*~*

“You boy! Come here!”

Great, he’s been drinking again and I’m certainly not going to go anywhere near him in that mood.

But, before he could move, a large man with slightly glazed eyes and a face too flushed to be normal came lumbering around the corner into the sitting room where the boy was currently trying to decide where best to hide. Unfortunately for him, the man was quick to notice the small bundle of clothes that contained the boy who was sitting in the corner with his head bent, black hair obscuring his face.

Don’t see me, don’t see me, you’re drunk and hallucinating, you don’t see me.

But all the boy’s wishing did nothing as the man trudged through the room, running into all the furniture, causing a lamp to fall to the ground with a crash from the sitting table it was currently perched on. The sudden change in noise caused the boy to look up with round eyes at the too-large man coming towards him. There was no kindness in those eyes; there never really was.

“What have you been doing in my house? Any more of that stuff and you’ll find yourself living outside!”

The boy’s eyes grew larger and tears started to form as he absorbed the finality of the threat. He’d heard it many times before, to be true, but there was something different at the man’s tone this time…this time, he really meant it.

Damn, he knows I’m scared. But I shouldn’t be; what’s he going to do to me that he’s not already done before? This thought gave him some courage and the child brought his head up farther and started to stand and face the man.

“Oh, so now you think I’m lying? Let’s see about that…” The man struck out with his left hand, missing his target a little as the boy shifted his weight to his left foot. He struck out again with his right, “…how long will it take you to realize…” Again with his right, “…to understand, that I mean every word…” The boy wasn’t fast enough this time and his head rebounded into the wall behind him as the man’s fist made contact with his nose. “That I’ve ever said…” His left hand made contact and now the boy was sitting on the ground, holding his head in both hands. “EVER!!” The man yelled, continuing with a swift kick to the boy’s ribs.

His punches aren’t as hard as they have been, good thing I know how to fake unconsciousness pretty well. That might stop him this time.

But the man made no attempt to hit the boy’s head any more, instead choosing the larger target of his torso.

“You think you’re soo smart, don’t you! You and your little spells that you cast to make me look like a fool!” Another kick to the ribs. “Well, I’ve had enough of you and your mother! This is the last I want to see of the both of you!”

“Don’t talk about mum like that! She never wanted to stay here anyway!”

His words were greeted by a new onslaught of punches and kicks; this time to his legs as well, as the boy became stretched out against the wall on the floor.

“I’ll say whatever I want! She was a good for nothing burden, same as you!” More kicks, now to the boy’s head. “All I wanted was a normal family, not a bunch of freaks like you!”

*~*~*~*

Harry woke with a scream dying on his lips. Please, please don’t wake up; he prayed silently, ears staining for any sound that his relatives had heard. Harry waited on bated breath for Uncle Vernon to come crashing down the stairs and interject a spit parade onto Harry, then send him off to do some mundane task for the entire day.

But the stomping sound never came. Uncle Vernon never stirred in his sleep, ever present with snores. Harry finally lay down, relieved beyond measure, only to see a spider spinning a web directly above his messy black head of hair.

“Hello, there,” Harry sighed as the spider continued to crawl above his head. He was used to spiders; they lived in the cupboard that he slept in. And he’d been living in this cupboard for as long as he could remember.

I just wish you could say hello back. Why won’t you say hello? I’ll be your friend and won’t let that mean lump of a cousin hurt you, I promise.

The truth is, Harry didn’t have any friends. His cousin Dudley saw to that at school and the teachers never did anything about it. Dudley would threaten to punch anyone who even talked to Harry on the playground during their break before lunch. Harry tried to remind himself that he didn’t mind.

I don’t need any friends, if they’re all like Dudley’s gang. They’re only friends with him because he keeps them out of trouble. And that’s only because everyone’s too afraid of them to say anything. I wouldn’t be like that, if only they’d see…no, it doesn’t work to think like that. Think about something else.

As Harry strained to remember the dream that had awoken him he heard some soft noises coming from above him, too soft to be Uncle Vernon or Dudley, it had to be Aunt Petunia. And too soon she was unlocking and opening the door to Harry’s cupboard only to be slightly surprised to see two wide green eyes looking back at her.

Harry knew his confusion showed on his face, why are you here, what do you want this early in the morning, before Uncle Vernon and Dudley are up? But he didn’t dare to ask the questions that were forming in his mind. Rule number one at the Dursley’s was no questions. He stared unblinking at his aunt from his cot. Her face quickly shifted her expression to one of contempt and extreme dislike, mouth forming that ever-present thin line whenever she looked in her nephew’s general direction.

“You’re to shower today; I’ll be in to check the water. Five minutes and don’t dally. I want you outside before Vernon or Dudley get up,” she said, turning away from the cupboard towards the kitchen.

Harry sighed, but too softly for his aunt to hear, “Yes, Aunt Petunia.”

He hated only washing properly once a week, if that. Some nights, Harry snuck out and washed in the kitchen with a bucket of water previously filled and stored in his cupboard. If the Dursley’s knew how much it bothered Harry to be called names, normally instigated by Dudley himself, they did nothing to stop it. Harry was usually quite mindful of his hygiene. He hated the name calling, but more than that, Harry hated feeling different, useless, a burden. That’s all he ever was and at one time Harry believed he would be able to fit in at school, that it would be different and balance out what was happening at home. But that dream was soon shattered as Dudley took his role as bully seriously, and so it was with elation that Harry made his way to the bathroom after collecting the cleanest clothing in his cupboard, taking another spider off and placing it on the shelf above his head. The only thing about these showers was that Harry was not allowed hot or even warm water. That right was available only to those who deserved it, which did not include freaks like Harry. But a cold shower was not going to stop Harry from feeling clean once again, if only for a little while.

As he passed the mirror while making his way to the toilet, Harry noticed his reflection. His hair was a little flatter this morning, not a customary occurrence with his messy locks. His complexion also seemed a bit lighter, paler. But that could just be the lights, Harry determined as he looked at the lighted mirror more closely. But then that didn’t seem to be enough of an explanation, I was outside all day yesterday, and usually am at least a little tan. But it seemed that the sun had the opposite effect on his skin that day.

Realizing that Harry only had a few more minutes to shower and use the toilet, he quickly undressed and stepped into the shower, risking room temperature water. Uncle Vernon says that it costs too much money to have heated water for freak’s showers, but doesn’t cold water cost to cool? Harry figured that this argument was a fairly good one if he was reprimanded by Aunt Petunia, not that she ever really hit him. And neither did Uncle Vernon, except for the occasional smacks to his bum, he had only taken a belt to Harry’s bum once after turning his teacher’s hair green. Harry still had marks on his back where Uncle Vernon missed his target in his heightened sense of rage. But that wasn’t usually what Aunt Petunia did, anyway. She was a bit more forgiving than Harry’s uncle when it came to punishments, usually making him work outside or around the house.

It was with these thoughts that Harry was interrupted as his aunt opened the door, and thrust her hand through the shower curtain, placing it under the semi-cold stream of water. Seemingly satisfied, she took out her hand and said sourly, “Turn off the water, you’re done. Come straight down to the kitchen when you’re dressed. Three minutes.”

“Yes, Aunt Petunia” was Harry’s standard reply, distorted by the emptiness of the bathroom and running water. He waited until he heard the door close to turn off the water, carefully wrapping his bar of soap up in a flannel and donning his change of clothes. Harry only paused in front of the mirror on his way out, his mind brought back to why his skin wasn’t tan, his hair not sticking up as much.

“Paint the shed using the paint outside the door,” was the only thing his aunt gave Harry as he entered the kitchen, delivering the terse command without turning her head towards her nephew.

“Yes, Aunt Petunia.” At least I can spend another day outside, that’s better than getting stuck dusting and cleaning the loo. But this did little to cheer Harry up; he was still tired from not sleeping well the last few days and it was hot out today. But he realized as he walked with the paint cans and rollers that the sun probably wouldn’t be up for another hour and it wasn’t hot now. If I paint the side facing the road first, then I can paint the back when the sun is up and be shaded by the hedge. With this thought, he began working.

Harry was could be pretty clever once he put his mind to finding a way around a particular complication. He happened to be right about staying out of direct view of the sun for the first part of the morning, but his relatives had other ideas. Just as Harry was finishing with the back side of the shed, Uncle Vernon came out to inform Harry that he would be mowing the lawn once he finished, “and be quick about it.” Harry only nodded and mumbled a quick reply.

After finishing with the lawn, washing all the outside windows, sweeping the drive, and weeding the front gardens, Harry was exhausted. He had worked through the entire day and was allowed inside only as the sky began to redden, the sun shrinking behind the horizon. As Harry entered through the kitchen, his aunt shoved a large piece of bread along with some cheese and a piece of salami into his hands. Before he could mumble his thanks, she proceeded to hand him a plastic cup filled almost to the brim of ice cold milk. Without waiting for Harry to properly thank her, Aunt Petunia gave him a little shove towards the hall and his cupboard. Just as Harry reached the door, he turned and looked back at his aunt, already back to cleaning her spotless kitchen. Thank you, Aunt Petunia.

Deciding to save the bread as Harry was already full with eating only the cheese and salami and drinking the milk, he lay down for bed, falling asleep almost instantly.