“And this,” Severus said as he opened the door to his spare bedroom, “is your room.”

Harry looked around the space warily, but everything he did now seemed to be done with caution in exhaustion, so it was hardly anything new.

Severus never once in his wildest dreams imagined himself giving Harry Potter a tour of his home, much less welcoming him to stay there, with a bedroom to call his own. Just the thought would have been more than enough to make a previous version of himself feel ill, but so very much had changed in recent weeks that the idea of such dramatics felt extremely distant.

The possibility of regret barely even wavered through his consciousness.

“It’s nice,” Harry said softly, lowering his eyes down to the floor after taking stock of the room.

It wasn’t an overly impressive space, painted a muted blue, furnished with a bed, a wardrobe, the essentials. Still, Severus thought that it was likely more than the boy had ever been able to call his own. He hadn’t brought much with him to Spinner’s End, only a small bag slung across his shoulder.

The thought brought a painful tug to Severus’ heart.

Severus wasn’t exactly keen to leave the boy alone, even with such a minimal task to occupy himself with. He was still prone to forgetting himself at times and Severus was hoping to have him settled in before having to deal with the inevitable episode. So he offered to help him unpack.

Harry took a moment to process what Severus had said, again, nothing unusual as of late. Things often had to be said to him several times before he really understood.

This, however, seemed not to bear repeating, as soon Harry nodded sluggishly and went over to sit on the bed, slipping the bag off his shoulder. After that he seemed to be at a loss as to what to do next, looking up at Severus with a confused expression settled on his features.

Severus approached the bed and carefully lowered himself down beside Harry, the bag a small barrier between them. Still, Harry seemed to shrink at their close proximity and Severus hurried to unzip the bag to distract him.

Harry made no move to take anything out from the bag, so Severus started the process of removing items himself, all the while hoping that there wasn’t anything condemning stored away in there.

Unlikely, as the healers had gone through Harry’s things at St. Mungo’s and had given Severus explicit instructions as to what he was and wasn’t allowed to have before allowing his removal from the Janus Thickey Ward.

Nothing sharp, nothing long, nothing that could be used as a tool to cause himself harm.

In the past, just mere weeks ago, really, Severus would have been afraid to spend much time in close company with the boy, even overlooking their mutual animosity. It really wouldn’t be good for his career as a spy should he be discovered fraternizing with the enemy.

Maybe that was why it had been so easy to hate him. It was easier to despise him than to look into those emerald orbs and being aware that he couldn’t know them, couldn’t be familiar with them, not anymore.

But now, well. That was all over, now. Voldemort was dead and Severus was a free man. Well, in the general sense of the word. He no longer had to answer to his two masters, but he was still a prisoner of his past mistakes.

He needed a distraction, something to think about, something to care about. He considered getting a house plant but somehow he ended up bringing Harry Potter home instead.

If Severus was surrounded by his demons, Harry was absolutely swarmed by them. Somewhere in between the cheers and the tears at the defeat of the dark lord, his sanity had been lost.

Severus continued to unpack, laying the clothes out on the bed. They all seemed old and worn and far too large for Harry, and he wondered if perhaps he should just throw them all out and get him new things.

Just as the thought came across his mind, he picked up a dark purple hoodie (which the strings had been removed from, of course) and went to set it aside as well, but Harry’s hand unexpectedly darted out in front of him, snatching it away.

It was the first time in the weeks since Voldemort had been slain that Severus had witnessed such a spark of life in him, and before he could really even process what had just happened, Harry was clutching the hoodie to his chest, eyes closed tightly and head hung low over it.

It definitely didn’t seem like a good idea to throw the clothing out anytime soon.

Severus stared at him, unsure of what to do. The piece of clothing obviously held some sort of sentimental value to the child, but should he allow him to fawn over it like this? Well, he certainly wasn’t going to take it away from him. As much as he would like to see the boy wake from his usual state of dissolution, the last thing they needed was to have a screaming match.

He continued unpacking, it was mostly just clothing and a few toiletries but there was a Walkman and a single cassette tape buried underneath the t-shirts.

Funny, he had never taken Harry for the music type. Then again, he supposed that no one at Hogwarts really seemed to be. Every year Muggleborns tried to smuggle in their electronics, but of course they just didn’t work around so much magic. Because of that, it was a bit difficult to picture any of the students just popping an earbud in and listening to their tunes.

There were no earbuds with the Walkman, though. Severus assumed that the healers had taken them away, as the long wires of the headphones could prove to be a hazard for someone in Harry’s… condition. Severus admittedly didn’t know much about the devices, but he was almost certain that the music couldn’t be heard without headphones plugged in, for there were no outer speakers, so it was pretty much useless now. He set the music player and the cassette tape over on the nightstand.

Once the bag was empty, he folded the clothing and put it away in the wardrobe. He glanced over at Harry who still seemed to be residing in another world and left him alone for a moment to put the boy’s toiletries away in the bathroom.

He was gone for less than a minute, but when he returned to the bedroom, the boy was curled up on top of the covers, his head resting on the pillow, fingers still gripping the hoodie like a beloved childhood plushie.

It was still fairly early in the evening, but not too early for bed, Severus supposed. He knew that the boy wouldn’t eat dinner in this state anyway, so he draped a blanket over him and watched as his breathing evened out and he fell into a deep sleep.

He cast monitoring charms and spared one last glance at the broken child he had taken in before turning the light out and exiting the room.

Severus had always been a very perspective person. Discovering flaws and weaknesses was his specialty, pointing them out was a flaw of his own. He had always been a stickler for the details, for as long as he could remember.

But yet somehow he was only just now starting to realize that there was a lot more to Harry Potter than he could have ever imagined.

To put it quite plainly, primary school sucked.

There was no reason to pretend or to be evasive about it, it was an absolutely horrendous way for a child of eight years old to spend his waking hours, only slightly less bad than being at the Dursley household.

Because at school, he could at least run away from his bullies. He didn’t have that luxury at “home.”

Maybe some children enjoyed school, maybe some of the kids at the early recess were there because they actually wanted to be and not because their cousin wanted to be and therefore had to be himself. If he wanted to have a ride to school, anyway.

It was exhausting to have to play the same game of cat and mouse (but wait, he thought he heard one of them calling it “Harry Hunting” a few days ago) every single day.

Harry wanted to play games, sure. He wanted to do what the other children did, he wanted to swing on the swingset, slide down the slide, roll around in the dirt just for the heck of it. He wanted to have fun for once in his miserable life.

But no, that wasn’t allowed. He was a punching bag, or a laser light for the big fat cat that was his cousin Dudley Dursley, and his rat-faced friends to chase.

You’d think that the rats would be the target for the cat, but no, Harry was the target. Always.

So, he would spend recess all alone, hiding away in a big oak tree overlooking the playground. Well, it wasn’t exactly hiding, it was just that Dudley and his gang were too fat and too stupid to bother with chasing him up the tree.

Everyone knew that cats got stuck up in trees, anyway.

He was lonely, in some ways. Not that he craved the company of the other children, exactly. Even if they weren’t pathetic little minions and were actually willing to be his friend, they really just weren’t on the same scale as him. Harry didn’t consider himself to be overly intelligent, but he did feel that he was in a bit of a different headspace than his peers.

But one day, everything changed.

Harry was brought out of his typical melancholic musings when a girl with auburn hair appeared on the branch beside him. He hadn’t even noticed her scaling the tree and was more than a bit startled to find her blue eyes piercing him intently.

“Who are you?” Harry asked, just a bit rudely. She looked to be about his age, how he was supposed to look at his age, anyway, since he always seemed to look a couple of years younger than he actually was, due to his disappointing height and overall scrawniness.

Harry attended a school with a fairly small number of students, he knew who all his classmates were, (and just how horrible they were) he even could recognize the children from other classes as he had often passed them in the hallways.

But he had never seen a girl quite like this, he was certain.

If she was his age, eight, that was, then he definitely thought that she was too young to be wearing red lipstick. He didn’t have a sister or a female cousin, but Aunt Petunia was always going on and on about what was and wasn’t proper for young ladies.

Sometimes he wondered if he were a girl if she might be just a little bit nicer to him, because she seemed to really want a little girl to dress up and do all those girly things that Dudley just didn’t go for. He was more of the violent video game type.

Harry doubted that his gender really mattered though, Aunt Petunia would hate him simply because he shared his mother’s blood. Which she did as well, but that bit of logic didn’t seem to register with her.

The girl also had a vibrant shade of blue eyeshadow covering her eyelids and Harry was certain that she wasn’t only just too young for that, but also that it was definitely improper for a lady to wear such a color. Sometimes I Dream of Jeannie reruns would play on the telly while Harry was dusting the living room and Aunt Petunia was having her afternoon wine destresser. She could go on and on about Jeannie’s slutty outfit and trashy blue eyeshadow.

“No wonder women are being raped at every turn when they put themselves out on display for all the world to see!”

Aunt Petunia never said words like that in front of Dudley, but Harry was fair game. For someone who liked to pretend that her nephew didn’t exist, she sure seemed to talk around him more than she talked with her husband and son. Her garden club, her book club, the neighbor directly on the right, the neighbor directly on the left, the one three doors down, across the street, even her best friend Yvonne showed up in the complaint box every now and then.

He was the ear for his aunt to rant into and his cousin's favorite punching bag. He was an excellent stress reliever all around.

He probably wouldn’t even know what the word meant if not for the crime shows his aunt and uncle sometimes liked to watch late at night. Not that he was allowed to watch them, or anything, really, but those shows were even off-limits to Dudley, which meant that they must be really bad because the only other thing Dudley wasn’t allowed to participate in was anything having to do with the M-word.

But, as Harry’s cupboard was positioned in somewhat close proximity to the living room, if the television volume was turned up loud enough he could often catch snippets of some programs through the door, which was how he picked up on the meaning of the word.

Harry still didn’t know all that much about rape, but he thought that there was a bit more to it than what the person was wearing. It seemed a bit unfair to blame it on the victim but then again, Harry was always being blamed for things that weren’t his fault so what did he know? He was only eight, after all.

“Alexandra Rose Carpiniello,” the girl said in a perfectly lovely accent that confirmed that she was not from Surrey. “But you can call me Alex.”

He could tell that she was an American, southern if he had his geography right. Ripped jeans, bright pink hoodie with the word PRINCESS stamped across it in yellow letters with a little sequin crown resting on top of the “R”, green polish messily applied on her nails. She seemed determined to incorporate every color of the Crayola 64 pack into her outfit.

She looked absolutely ridiculous and Harry thought she was the most amazing sight he had ever seen.

“Harry James Potter,” he said in response to her introduction, slowly drawing his hand out of his oversized sweatshirt pocket and offering it to her.

She shook it more firmly than Harry would have expected from a girl, or well, any child of any gender his age, and he had to resist the urge to massage it once she had let go. He didn’t want to come across as a wimp, even if that was his reputation at school and she was sure to hear all about it soon if she hadn’t already.

Maybe he could make a good impression and have a friend for the first time in his life before she got all the dirt about him from the cool kids. He might even be able to make it last a couple of hours before it all went to hell and he had yet another classmate making fun of him.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said with an air of maturity well beyond her years that was obviously picked up by adult watching. Harry did a lot of that himself.

“I hope you don’t mind my joining you in your hiding spot,” she said in a softer voice now. “It felt a bit overwhelming to be out there with all the kids I don’t know.”

Harry felt overwhelmed being with the kids he did know, so he could definitely relate.

“So you’re new here,” he said, feeling a bit more comfortable now that he had an answer to his internal question of never having seen her before. Well, of course, he had practically known, but it was still nice to have his suspicions confirmed rather than just go on assumption.

“Yes, my stepfather and I moved here just a week ago. I hate starting school in the middle of the year, it’s so awkward.”

Harry nodded, feeling bad for her. It was bad enough to start the school year at all, starting in the middle of it would only make him stick out more. “You moved here all the way from the states?”

“Oh, is my accent really that obvious?” she said, giggling. She snorted a bit towards the end. “It’s annoying, I know. Yours is really great though.”

“I have an accent?” Harry asked, surprised. It didn’t really seem like it, he talked just like anyone else. It was actually one of the few normal things he did.

“Of course! A British accent, they’re so lovely. I’m hoping that I’ll pick it up. But I don’t wanna fake it, it’s very annoying when people on TV fake southern accents.”

“I think your accent is cool,” Harry offered quietly. “So, erm, why did you move here?”

Alex shrugged, the blue in her eyes seeming to dull a little. “Little Whinging is supposed to have a good school district, nice neighborhood or something. So we moved here.”

Is it? Harry wondered absently. Personally, he felt that Little Whinging had to be one of the worst places in the world to live, his school and the neighborhood both were quite awful. “Oh. Just you and your stepfather, then?”

She nodded slightly. “Yes. Anyway, enough about me, what about you? Why are you hiding up here?”

“Oh,” Harry tried to shrug casually but he had been shivering a bit from the cold so it came across as more of a spasm. “I just don’t get on with any of them.” He gestured to the children on the playground below them. Today Piers Polkiss brought an old pumpkin for Dudley and the gang to smash on the concrete over someone’s chalk hopscotch court. Harry long ago had stopped trying to understand the brain functionality of that guy.

“Oh, bullies, then?”

Harry laughed a little. He had never heard anyone besides himself describe them to be exactly what they were. “Bullies, and pushovers,” he confirmed. “No one wants to stand around with the target during practice.”

“Well, it sounds as though you could use a friend,” Alex said, lips turning upwards. Harry decided then and there that it was the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. And he had on occasion caught sight of Winnie Cooper while Dudley was watching the telly.

“Yeah,” Harry said, smiling a bit himself. “I guess I could.”

The bell rang, alerting the playground inhabitants that it was time for yet another lovely day of classes.

Harry climbed down the tree and jumped to his feet with ease, offering Alex a hand when she seemed to struggle with making it all the way down.

***

“Where do you live?” Harry asked once they had exited the school. He wanted to carry her books and walk her home like a gentleman would (or so Aunt Petunia said), but he did still want to get his chores done before dark.

It was the weirdest day of school Harry had ever experienced, in the sense that it was not absolutely horrible. Dudley and his gang were as bothersome as always, but today he actually had someone by his side at recess and someone to sit next to him during class.

Harry had long ago stopped dreaming that the stars would one day shine in his direction and he would live to see a day where he didn’t absolutely loathe his existence, but today had been kind of not so bad.

“#10 Privet Drive,” answered Alex.

“No kidding? I live at #4!”

“Cool! So we can walk home together,” Alex grinned.

"Home" was not exactly the word Harry used to refer to #4 Privet Drive as, but he supposed it was a decent enough synonym.

“Yeah. Do you, erm, want me to carry your books?”

Alex gave him an odd look before shaking her head. “I’m okay, thanks. I have my backpack,” she said, wiggling her shoulders a bit as if to prove it.

Harry inwardly groaned at himself. “Oh. Sorry. I watch too many old reruns on the telly.”

She giggled. “I do that too.”

“Yeah? What are your favorite shows?” Harry was far too invested in television for someone who had never once in his life sat down in front of one to watch a program. He did, however, spend a lot of time locked in his cupboard and heard a lot of things through the vent. The Dursleys almost always had the telly on. When not in the cupboard, he was able to catch a few glimpses of the screen as he did his chores.

“Ohh, let’s see. I love Bewitched the most, I think. And Leave It to Beaver, though it is a bit ridiculous. I suppose most sitcoms are, though.”

Harry nodded. He had of course never even listened to Bewitched for obvious reasons but he understood the gist of it from the promos. It was almost funny that she thought Leave It to Beaver was more ridiculous than Bewitched, but he understood what she meant. “They all seem to depict a picture-perfect family life.”

“Exactly!” said Alex. “And like, I enjoy watching them, but…”

“They’re unbelievable,” Harry agreed. “Nobody…”

“Lives that kind of life,” Alex finished.

They passed #4 but continued on to #10 before stopping.

“Well,” Harry said. “It… it was nice meeting you.”

“Yeah! I was really worried I wouldn’t be able to make any friends here… um, would you like to come in?” Alex asked, casting a somewhat wary-looking glance at the house behind her.

Harry wanted to, he did, but he knew he’d be dead if he didn’t get to the Dursleys soon. “Can’t,” he said, looking down. “I gotta do my chores and stuff.”

“Oh,” Alex said, looking downcast. “Okay.”

“I’ll um, see you at school tomorrow though, right?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

Harry smiled and waved at her as he walked back down the driveway. As he watched her turn into her house, he couldn’t help but notice that she looked about as happy to be entering her home as he felt walking towards the Dursleys.

***

The boy was silent.

He could speak, Severus knew, for he did so on occasion. It was just that more often than not, he chose not to partake in such normalities. Severus kept finding himself to be feeling quite unnerved by the silence.

He didn’t do anything, either. Not that Severus had expected someone in such a state to do anything in particular, but still. He didn’t even lay about on the couch, he simply sat on the floor in front of the fire staring into the flames. Severus was a bit surprised he had come downstairs at all, and of his own violation. He had expected him to take to sulking alone in his room.

Could it really be called sulking though, if it was due to a great mental disturbance?

This was one of the few times in his life that Severus truly felt as though he had no clue what he was doing and often wondered if it had been a good idea to remove Harry from the ward at St. Mungo’s. But he had been rotting away there. So better for him to leave the residue here on Severus’ furniture than one of the hospital beds?

Severus shook that thought from his head and glanced over at the boy, noticing that he held something in his hands. Fearing the worst, he leaned over to take a closer look. Then he breathed out a sigh of relief. It was just the cassette tape he had taken out of the bag the day that Harry had arrived. Harry seemed to be transfixed as he stared down at the tracklist written on the back in glittery pink ink.

Severus sat back in his chair, his potions book laying open over the armrest, abandoned as he pondered the boy.

A nervous breakdown was the main terminology the healers had used. Depression, Anxiety, dissociative tendencies. Triggered by the events leading to the Dark Lord’s downfall, but it had likely been coming on for a long while, taking into account the childhood trauma.

Childhood trauma that had gone unnoticed by Severus and everyone else. They didn’t even know now what the trauma stemmed from exactly, but the medical reports had been fairly clear that there were plenty of things to choose from.

It was inevitable, in that case, that the child would reach a breaking point.

The question was, what now? He had been making absolutely no progress at St. Mungos so Severus had offered to step in, to try and help. But he wasn’t helping very much at all, now was he? A therapist was scheduled to visit once a week, but the appointments were rendered near useless when Harry refused to speak. Past that, Severus didn’t have any ideas as to what to offer the boy and the healers didn’t seem inclined to share with him any helpful tips past nothing sharp, nothing long, nothing that could be used as a tool to cause himself harm.

Severus scowled. He deemed the Wizarding World to be fairly hopeless when it came to addressing mental health issues, which often made him feel pretty hopeless about Harry’s recovery. How could he fix what had been broken without the tools to do so?

Severus sighed, standing up from his chair and stretching. Heaven only knew. There likely wasn’t much he could do, but he still felt that there were many things he should be doing. Figuring out what those things were was the difficult part.

He noticed that Harry seemed to be shivering even as he sat in front of the fire, and so Severus draped a woven blanket over the boy before going into the kitchen to prepare dinner.

He would figure it out, somehow. Maybe.

“Oh, that’s lovely!” Alex exclaimed, leaning over to take a closer look. Harry thought it looked horrendous, but he appreciated the praise nonetheless.

It was early November and Dudley and his gang were currently occupied hiding out behind the school passing some sort of dirty magazine between themselves, so Harry felt fairly safe on the ground today with Alex, where they sat drawing pictures in the dirt with sticks during lunch recess.

“Do you draw?” Alex asked him, admiring his dirt chickens. He had made a mother hen and a couple of chicks trailing behind her. “Like on paper, I mean.”

“Um, I dunno. I’ve never really tried it,” Harry replied. He’d done a few doodles on the edges of his school notebook he supposed, but he was lucky to have a notebook at all and didn’t want to waste the paper on something so frivolous, and he only had a number 2 pencil to work with, anyway. Besides, he didn’t have much time for such things.

“You should try it,” Alex suggested, smiling brightly.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded absently, watching Dudley and the gang from a distance. A distance that seemed to be quickly approaching the two of them. “Come on,” he said, standing quickly and offering Alex a hand up.

She just looked up at him, confused. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Just come on,” said Harry, pulling her up, albeit a bit too forcefully. She stumbled into him as she stood. The moment of hesitation cost them dearly as the gang approached them as she was regaining her balance. They were surrounded by the buffoons before they could even think of escaping.

“Are my eyes playing tricks on me, or did the freak actually manage to snag himself a little girly friend?” sing-songed the voice of Harry’s cousin, and Harry turned to see the larger boy grinning maniacally. His eyes trailed over Alex’s frame, somehow managing to come off as a pervert even at eight years old.

“Piss off, Dudley,” Harry muttered, cheeks flushing bright red. Alex had of course known from the first day that he didn’t exactly get along with the other kids, but he had been hoping that maybe she wouldn’t actually bear witness to a Harry Hunting episode. Or at least not be dragged into the mess right alongside him.

“I’m just looking, Four-Eyes,” Dudley shot back. The group of boys snickered. Harry took a deep breath and moved to fully face the group. They made for a ridiculous sight, trying to look big and intimidating whilst sporting Danger Mouse t-shirts and the like.

“What a dig, Big D, I’m so very hurt,” said Harry, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, you’re gonna hurt,” Dudley threatened, getting up close and personal. Harry could feel his disgustingly hot breath on his face. He considered spitting on the boy but decided that it would only waste time. And, knowing Dudley, his cousin would insist on being taken to the hospital in London after being infected with freak germs.

Even if the idea brought on an aesthetically pleasing image, the punishment Harry would surely receive for his role in the ordeal was certainly not worth it.

Harry instead shoved Dudley away from him, and, once more tugging on Alex’s hand, pushed through the crowd of boys to make a beeline for the oak tree.

The gang had a delayed reaction, and the two were able to make a near flawlessly executed escape. They scrambled up the branches, Piers made a grab for Harry’s ankle but he managed to shake him off and continued his retreat. The boys below could still be heard making jabs and jeers through the rush of blood in Harry’s ears, but not one of them made an attempt to follow them up the tree. What chickens.

“Sorry,” Harry said breathlessly once they had settled upon the thickest branch. “He’s always going after me.”

“Really? I didn’t notice,” Alex said nonchalantly before laughing. Dudley Dursley was a prat through and through, but it was fairly obvious that the boy had a particular dislike for Harry. The black-haired child was public enemy #1 as far as the neighborhood boys were concerned.

“Why is he so obsessed with you, anyway?” Alex asked after a moment of giggles.

Harry bit his lip and shrugged before answering. “He’s my cousin.”

Alex’s eyebrows rose. “Why does he treat you like crap, then?”

“I dunno,” Harry replied honestly. He had never been totally clear on why Dudley or any of the other Dursleys hated him, he just knew that they did. “We just don’t get along.”

Alex was quiet for a moment before speaking again. “So he’s your aunt and uncle’s kid, you live with him?” Harry nodded.

“Why does he have such nice clothes and stuff, then? I mean, no offense but you…” her eyes trailed over his baggy clothing. “I just thought that your family wasn’t well off or something.”

“He’s their son, I’m just their nephew,” Harry said without hesitation. Sure, it would be nice if the Dursleys at least pretended to want him around, but they all knew that they didn’t. It was just different and Harry accepted it as a fact of life.

“They are your guardians though, aren’t they?” Alex asked, furrowing her brow.

“Yeah…”

Alex didn’t say anything else after that. They sat in the tree together in a comfortable silence and before long the bell was ringing once more.

***

The walk home from school wasn’t exactly awkward, but the silence had long since stopped being comfortable.

Alex hadn’t said anything to him since recess earlier and so Harry was a bit startled when they reached her house and she did speak.

“Do you wanna come in?” she asked him softly.

Harry shook his head. He was a little surprised she offered, and it made him feel a bit warmer inside as he had been starting to wonder if maybe she realized that day what a loser he was and didn’t want to be his friend anymore. But this was a question that she asked him every day and his response was always the same. “No, sorry. I gotta do my chores.”

She nodded and stared at the tenth house for a moment. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

She left him and went into her house, closing the door behind her gently. Harry stood there for a moment staring at where she had been before making his way to the Dursleys.

***

The next day they were sitting in the tree once more, silently agreeing not to chance the playground again, when she handed him something.

Harry looked down to find a sketchbook and a pack of Crayola colored pencils. He looked up at Alex, confused. She rolled her eyes.

“Draw, silly.”

And so he did.

His first attempt at creating a cartoonish dog with big floppy ears was messy at best, and he wondered why he started with an animal he hated so much in the first place. Aunt Marge’s dog Ripper was the only one he had ever spent time with and there weren't all that many things he despised more than that dog.

But it still felt really nice to move the colored pencils across the crisp white paper, and Harry felt that he could now answer the question Alex had asked yesterday with a Yes, I draw.

Alex, as it turned out, also drew. Very well, in fact. Harry found himself feeling quite a bit astonished looking at her sketchbook, something that she obviously spent a lot of time filling up. She was currently sketching a large oak tree, and if Harry squinted his eyes he could make out two children sitting on the branches.

“Is that us?” asked Harry, pointing at the figures. Alex nodded and continued to sketch. She adjusted her position on the branch, eyes still focused on her work and her skirt rode up a bit, revealing a bruise on her thigh. It seemed a bit swollen and-

Harry quickly averted his eyes. How incredibly rude and pig-like of him to even be looking. Even if it was a curious injury in a curious place.

***

“Can you come in?”

Harry sighed. This daily ritual was getting tiresome. “No, I’m sorry, but you know that I have to do my chores. Besides, I’d have to ask permission to come inside and I don’t think the Dursleys would like to know that I have a friend.”

Alex looked at her feet. “Just tell them… tell them you need tutoring. Tell them that our teacher says that I have to tutor you.”

“You tutor me?” Harry scoffed. Sure, he wasn’t exactly student of the year, but his grades certainly weren’t a true assessment of his intelligence. Sometimes you just had to backwards cheat on tests in order to appear dumber than your cousin. But Alex and he both knew that he was far from needing a tutor, and even if he did, she definitely wouldn’t be the best option for one.

“I know, I know,” Alex started quickly, “but they think that you’re, like, stupid or something, right? They want to think little of you, so the best way to get them to say yes is to make them think even less… if they knew that you were going to have fun, they wouldn’t let you come.”

Well. That really wasn’t such a terrible plan. “Mmm. I suppose you’re right…”

“Just try it, please?” Alex slipped her backpack off of her shoulder and unzipped it, taking out her sketchbook. She carefully tore out the most recent page, the one she had been working on at recess a few days prior, and handed it to him.

It was a truly stunning drawing, taking into account that the artist was only eight years old. Harry’s friend was certainly talented. He had seen the beginning sketch, but she had added so much detail to it since then. The two of them sat side by side on the tree trunk just as they did in real life. The other kids on the playground looked like ants compared to them. Dudley was throwing rocks up at them but his aim was lousy and the stones had no chance of hitting them.

“Okay, fine… but why do you want me to come over so bad?”

“I just… I do…”

“Sound reasoning.”

***

“Your girlfriend wants to tutor you?” Dudley sneered.

“You have a girlfriend?” Aunt Petunia sniffed.

“I’m eight years old, what do you think?” Harry asked sarcastically. Uncle Vernon had not yet made it home from his job at Grunnings and so he felt a bit safer just then than perhaps he should.

“What subject do you need tutoring in? All of them, I’m sure, but I’m assuming there’s one in particular,” said Aunt Petunia.

He really should have come up with an answer beforehand, but Harry was capable of coming up with a lie on the spot. “Erm, maths.” That was definitely the worst one on his report card as it was the easiest subject to mess up. And he knew that it was one that Aunt Petunia wasn’t willing to help even Dudley with, so he was in no danger of having her as a substitute tutor.

“I think they just call it math where she’s from. You should know, Mum, he’s likely to start talking like a regular ole’ country bumpkin if he’s allowed to spend much more time with that girl,” Dudley said in the absolute worst imitation of a southern accent Harry had ever heard. But then, Dudley had a pretty horrible voice in general. It made Harry vividly reminiscent of a nails on chalkboard sensation.

He supposed that was one trait his cousin had inherited from Aunt Petunia.

“I don’t even want to be tutored, but the teacher says I have to!” Harry exclaimed, figuring that he might as well lay it on thick and praying that Dudley wouldn’t smarten up and ask the teacher if this was actually true. Surely if Aunt Petunia thought he didn’t want this, she would force it on him. “She’s tired of having to explain everything to me twice and knows that Alexandra is our neighbor.”

Aunt Petunia sighed heavily. “I haven’t even met this girl’s parents yet, the last thing we need is you making a bad impression on us.”

“She only lives with her stepfather, and he probably won’t even be there,” Harry pleaded.

“Ah, one of those families, if you can even call it that,” Aunt Petunia sniffed again in her snotty little way. “Very well, you may go tomorrow, but you better be sure to get back here in time to do your chores.”

“Of course, Aunt Petunia. Thank you.”

“And don’t you dare do anything freaky!” she added and Harry nodded quickly in agreement.

Weird things often happened around Harry, but it wasn’t as those he caused them to happen on purpose, honestly! Well, most of the time, anyway… But he certainly wasn’t going to tell Alex about that anytime soon, not if he could help it. It was quite nice having someone around who didn’t absolutely despise the sight of him and he wasn’t looking to scare her off by informing him of his little… issue.

Dudley stuck his tongue out at him like the immature little… like the big fat prat he was, and Harry began to zone out as he heard Uncle Vernon’s car pulling into the driveway.

***

“Would you like some tea?”

Harry shifted awkwardly in his seat, feeling uncomfortable. Uncle Vernon hadn’t made any objections to Harry being here, (not that Harry could remember, anyway) but he still felt distinctly strange and out of place being at a friend’s house.

“Sure…”

A cup was placed in front of Harry far quicker than he would have expected. And a plastic cup at that. With… ice?

Alex took a dark blue plastic pitcher out of the refrigerator and proceeded to pour the brown liquid it contained into the cup.

Harry stared.

Alex looked up and saw his expression. “What’s wrong?”

“It… what is that?”

“Oh!” said Alex, cheeks turning pink. “I- I forgot, it’s different here, I can’t believe I forgot such an obvious cultural difference…”

“You mean this is tea?” Harry asked doubtfully, sniffing the sticky substance.

“Yes, it is! We don’t drink hot tea where I’m from, I can’t imagine it really…”

“That’s… weird,” said Harry.

“No it isn’t!” Alex defended. “It- just try it!”

“I’m not drinking that!”

“Come on, Harry, honestly it’s really good!”

Harry sighed dramatically and pulled the cup towards him. It wasn’t as if he had drunk a lot of tea in his life, but he’d never even heard of it being served cold. And with ice…

“Oh, wait!” Alex stopped him from pressing the cup against his lips, and she went back over to the fridge and took out a container. She opened it to reveal lemon slices. “We might as well do this properly.” She picked up one slice and squeezed lemon juice into the tea before dropping the whole thing in.

“You can not be serious,” Harry muttered, but by now he was committed to the cause. He took a swallow and made a face. “My God how much sugar did you put in this?”

“Uh, I think he just does two cups…”

“Two cups!? As in, two measuring cups?”

“Well, it is called sweet tea for a reason…”

“It’s a small wonder you’ve yet to expire due to heart disease if you’ve been drinking this your whole life.”

“Oh come on, it’s not that- oh, hey, Emerson.”

Harry looked up, startled to see a man standing in the doorway of the kitchen. He was… well, Aunt Petunia would have described him as dirty. Late thirties maybe, with long, messy brown hair. He was wearing a white tank top which allowed the numerous tattoos littering his arms to be on display.

“Alex. This your friend?” the man drawled lazily, coming over to stand by Alex, placing his hand on her shoulder. His eyes were focused on Harry, who squirmed at the silent assessment.

“Yes sir. We’re going to do our homework together,” Alex said softly. The man simply looked at her for a moment before nodding slightly.

“‘Aight. Behave yourselves.” And with that, he patted her cheek softly and exited the room. Nice to meet you, too. But Harry was used to people being rude to him, so it was hardly anything new.

“Where did he come from?” Harry questioned quietly once he was sure that the man was out of earshot. “I didn’t hear him come in or anything.”

“He was here the whole time,” muttered Alex. “Just asleep.”

“Oh…” well that wasn’t creepy in the least. Harry would have really appreciated a warning.

And he would have said so, if not for the look on Alex’s face. She seemed extremely uncomfortable in her own home and Harry decided to just keep his mouth shut. He instead pulled his homework out of his bag and spread it across the counter. It took a minute or two, but Alex soon sat down on the stool beside him.

***

Harry had always had a bit of a problem with memory lapses, for as long as he could (haha) remember, anyway.

But he seemed to be… blacking out, a bit more, lately.

He could remember walking home from school with Alex and going in her house every day, as was the new routine, but he couldn’t seem to recall the things that occurred once he arrived back at the Dursleys. Every morning he woke up in the cupboard under the stairs with no memory of the night before. And then he went to school as always. Lather, rinse, repeat.

The weekends simply seemed like part of a fever dream.

Logically, he knew that there was a reason behind this odd little habit of his, especially taking into account the unexplainable bruises he sometimes noticed on his body, but he really didn’t like to think about the implications of all that.

So he didn’t.

***

“These are my father’s records,” Alex said, slipping one out of its paper sleeve. “Or so I’m told. I never met him, exactly.”

“Did he die?” Harry asked, feeling bad for her. He certainly knew what it was like to be missing a father. And a mother. And pretty much everything else that normal kids had.

Alex shrugged. “No clue. I’m under the impression that he took off when he found out my mom was pregnant with me.”

“Oh,” Harry said, feeling awkward now. That happened so often lately. He’d never really talked to many people before he started spending so much time with Alex, and it was great but it still caused some social anxiety for him. “I, um. I don’t even know my parents' names.”

“You don’t? Even I know my dad’s name, the first one anyway, Steve. My mom has used it in sentences with some other choice words.”

Harry laughed, not completely sure if he should. Alex seemed pretty lighthearted talking about this which made Harry feel a bit more comfortable sharing his own family woes with her. “No. I haven’t seen a picture of them or anything like that, either.”

“Wow,” Alex said, biting her lip. “That’s odd. What happened to them?”

“Car accident. That's where I got this, when I was a year old,” Harry said, brushing his fringe to the side and revealing the lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead.

“Woah,” Alex murmured, reaching a hand out as if to touch it but drawing back suddenly. “That must be really awful, I’m sorry. At least my mom is still alive.”

“What happened to her?” Harry asked hesitantly. He wasn’t sure what was and wasn’t a sore subject with Alex. Sometimes she seemed like such an open book but other times it would slam shut just as soon as he started to read it.

“She… she’s in rehab. Drugs,” Alex said, sighing. “That’s why Dumbass and I moved here. She’s at a recovery center in London.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “I’m sorry.” He hesitated for a second before offering, “My mum and dad were drunks. That’s what caused the car crash. It sucks.”

“It does. It… it just hurts to know that your parent chose their addiction over you.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said again, not sure if he was saying it just to her or to both of them, and wondering why he was the one apologizing when their parents should have been. Well, Harry’s were dead so he supposed that someone had to do it for them.

“Yeah, me too,” muttered Alex. “Anyway, the Beatles. Can’t believe you haven’t heard them before.” She gently placed the record on the player and it started to spin around and around, emitting a soothing tune.

Here come old flat top, he come grooving up slowly

Harry laid down on the carpet beside Alex and closed his eyes, soothed by the sound of rock n’ roll or whatever this was. He probably had heard this song before, somewhere, but it was a lot different of a feeling sitting there listening to it with… with his best friend.

There were still a lot of problems in their little world but for perhaps the first time in his life, he felt a sense of… something fuzzy warming his insides. Contentment? Happiness?

Something he hadn’t ever experienced before, anyway.

***

Life fell into a bit of a comfortable pattern. There were a few more uncomfortable moments involving Alex’s stepfather, but for the most part, things were great.

The Dursleys were as miserable as always, but school was better. Harry stopped riding to school with Aunt Petunia and Dudley, and started walking with Alex. It was a bit cold as Harry didn’t have a proper winter coat, but spending more time in Alex’s company was much preferred to that of Aunt Petunia and Dudley. And the Dursleys were of course happy to see as little of him as possible.

Harry was even able to score better on his math tests due to Alex’s supposed tutoring, and his relatives couldn’t really get upset that he was outperforming their son because the teacher had insisted on the tutoring.

One day in early spring, a police officer visited the school to talk to them about stranger danger and the like. They had these kinds of visits from a bobby every year and Harry wondered how long it took for the don’t accept candy from strangers message to sink in. How dense did adults think they were? Or were the other children truly that idiotic?

The annual talk was a bit different than usual though.

“I wish I could just tell you to steer clear of strangers and have everything be okay. That your guardians will always protect you from threatening situations. But it’s becoming startlingly evident that sometimes the biggest dangers come from within the home, with people you know rather than strangers. People you trust.”

The bobby looked intently at the students from the front of the room, and Harry struggled to keep himself from squirming in his seat.

“You’re all so young, and this is not an easy thing to talk about but I believe that it is necessary. Sometimes it can be difficult to understand that you are in an abusive situation, or that one of your friends might be. Even if everything is okay for you at home, that’s often not the case for everyone.

“Abuse comes in many forms, be it physical, emotional, sexual, it is all abuse. I’m going to pass out sheets explaining more about abuse, and warning signs to look out for in your friends. I hope that you will equip yourselves with the knowledge to be able to recognize the signs of domestic violence.”

The officer picked up a stack of papers off the teacher’s desk and began to pass them around to everyone in the classroom.

“Do their guardians seem strange or make you feel uncomfortable?” he continued talking as he handed out the sheets, “Does it seem like your friend is hiding things from you? Do they have odd injuries? Doesn’t seem like they want to go home? Wants you around or pushes you away?”

The man gave Harry a kind smile as he placed a sheet on his desk, then turned away not to look anyone directly in the eye. “I’m not trying to scare you with all of this. But we live in a scary world, and it’s better to be prepared should frightening situations arise, yes?” Quiet murmurings of agreement could be heard throughout the classroom.

Sometimes, when Harry was doing his homework, he would come across some really difficult questions, questions that the answers did not come easily for. Even if he didn’t write the answers down correctly on the assignments, he still liked to know them for himself. He would think and think, trying to come up with a solution to the science question. Then there were some questions that he knew that he knew the answer to, but it took a while to remember, like for history questions. The maths questions were usually pretty easy, though. There was always one answer, and it was always the same. He almost didn’t even have to think about it, he just saw the numbers and knew.

As Harry stared down at the blurry yet somehow extremely clear words of the safety guidelines on his desk, he was not focusing on the space for emotional abuse, nor the one for physical abuse… It was something of a mix of a really difficult question and a really easy one. The knowledge was right there staring him in the face, but it was still somehow difficult to answer.

Slowly, he brought his face up and looked to his side, meeting Alex’s eyes. Seeing the glassy quality of the blue, he had a startling realization. It was hardly even a question, now. He knew.

***

“I do have a cassette player, you know.”

The boy flinched violently at the sudden sound of his voice, and Severus felt a bit bad for startling him. But this tiptoeing around in his own home was getting ridiculous.

Harry quickly recovered from his surprise and looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed, so Severus continued.

“I admit, I’m not all that certain as to how it works, but… it’s there, under the television.” He nodded over to the general area. He then walked out of the living room (Harry’s eyes keeping track of him all the while) and over to the kitchen, keeping an eye on his ward through the doorway.

Harry then stared down at the item in his hands for a long moment before standing up slowly from his place on the sofa. He wavered before kneeling down in front of the television, in front of the cassette deck.

Severus had never used it, had never really even thought about it. It was just there. Just another Mugglish item in his father’s Mugglish house. He had thrown most things that belonged to his father away, only keeping the television because well, Muggles did have at least one good invention. Severus didn’t care for the cassette deck one way or another, but he let it be and it remained there under the telly, collecting dust.

Perhaps Muggles had more than one good invention, though, he thought as the device clicked and a soothing tune emitted through the speakers and spread throughout the house.

Here come old flat top, he come grooving up slowly

The Beatles. Severus could recognize them, even if he didn’t seek them (or any music, really) out. He couldn’t very well grow up in a Muggle neighborhood in the 60s and 70s and not know who the Beatles were. He couldn’t grow up with Lily and not know who the Beatles were.

Severus’ charge remained in front of the cassette tape, sitting cross-legged on the floor now rather than kneeling before it. He seemed lost in his own little world, but not in the usual way. Somehow he seemed more present in this world right now than he had seemed in weeks.

He seemed to be at peace, a faint smile appearing on his face even as the tears trailed down his cheeks and his lower lip trembled. It was as though he was taking his first breath of air after a long period of time spent being held underwater.

Severus let him be. Hm, a bit of a Beatles reference.

The ringing of the bell vibrated harshly in his ears.

Harry breathed heavily through his mouth, trying to quell the dizzying sensation taking over his senses. Once he had gathered his bearings, he turned to see that Alex had left without him. He ran outside, to the playground, to the tree, which was where she was. Her back turned to him, head held in her hands. Auburn hair blew in the wind across her face, the way she hated, but she made no attempt to prevent it from continuing.

Harry climbed up the tree and sat next to her, not knowing what to say.

Alex sniffled, face still hidden against her palms. “Yes. Is that what you want to hear?”

Harry shook his head, though she couldn’t see him as she was currently positioned. “No. That’s not what I wanted to hear. But why… why didn’t you tell me?”

Alex pulled her hands away from her face and turned her blue eyes, reddened with tears, to glare at him. “What did you expect me to say? ‘Hey, by the way, just in case you didn’t catch it, my stepfather molests me!’”

Harry flinched at the blunt wording, turning away from her eyes. “I- I don’t know. I just… I don’t know what to say.”

“Do you pity me now?” Alex asked with a violent sounding edge to her voice. Harry shook his head firmly.

“No. I don’t. I… I just… I don’t know. We need to tell someone.”

“We don’t need to do anything. This is none of your business.”

“None of my business?! Alex, you’re my best friend! How am I supposed to just stand by and be okay with this?”

“I’m not asking you to be okay with it, I’m asking you to keep out of it. You don’t understand, Harry. It just isn’t as simple as going to the cops and telling them… My mother is in rehab. I don’t even know who my father is. Emerson is all I have.”

“And you deserve better than him!”

“Haven’t you been listening to me? There is no one else!”

“I think that no one is better than someone who treats you so bad!”

“Then why do you stay with your relatives, hm?”

Harry turned back to face her, glaring. “That is entirely beside the point.”

“No, it isn’t!” Alex exclaimed. “They treat you like shit!”

“They don’t molest me!”

“At least Emerson feeds me!”

“Oh and that’s so preferable…”

“Harry, just, just shut up! You don’t even know what you’re talking about, so just shut up.”

If there was one thing Harry had a talent for, it was keeping his mouth shut. Sometimes he had to be reminded to do it, sure, but he could keep it closed for as long until he was told otherwise. He stared hard at the tree bark, the inside of his cheek held firmly in between his molars.

After a long period of silence, where they both took the time to cool themselves down, Alex spoke up softly. “One is not worse than the other. It… we don’t exactly have any other options. We’re stuck with the guardians we have and that’s just the way it has to be. My mom will be out of rehab before too long, anyway. I’ll be okay until then. And you can keep eating at my house, so we’ll both be fine.”

Harry didn’t agree, not exactly. He didn’t think that it was anywhere near fine as it was. But Alex was right. They didn’t really have any other options.

***

They walked back to Privet Drive that day in a melancholy quiet. Alex stopped abruptly at #4.

“I… can we skip homework time today?” asked Alex. “I’m not mad at you or anything I just… kind of want to be alone right now.”

Harry hesitated. “Will you really be alone?”

Alex nodded. “Yeah. He’s out today.”

“Well… okay. If you’re sure.”

“I am. Thanks, Harry.” She then did something that she had never done before- she pulled him into a hug.

Harry was momentarily winded as he had the absolutely pathetic realization that he had never been hugged before, not that he could remember, anyway. God, how he loathed himself.

He wrapped his arms around his friend’s waist, relishing in the feeling of her warmth against his own. It was over before he could really comprehend that it had even happened, and he watched as Alex continued on her way.

He faced his own walkway and made his way up it. It had been a while since he had gotten back from school this early, and it felt strange. He noticed Uncle Vernon peering through the window curtains and gulped. He forgot that Uncle Vernon had the day off from work. Because he had sold a shite ton of drills or something like that.

He opened the front door and tried to swiftly slip into his cupboard, but Uncle Vernon’s meaty hand on his shoulder stopped him in his tracks. “Who was that girl you were with outside?”

“Alexandra Carpiniello,” said Harry, “she’s tutoring me in maths, remember?”

“Mmm,” Uncle Vernon grunted more than hummed. “She a freak like you?”

“I wouldn’t know, I don’t usually ask people if they’re freaks or not upon meeting them,” Harry responded smartly, or stupidly as it was a very stupid thought to vocalize. Maybe he wasn’t so talented at keeping his mouth shut after all.

***

Harry traced the picture hanging in his cupboard. It was the one Alex had given him months ago, and he had hung it in the darkest corner with a small bit of sellotape he had claimed to Aunt Petunia that he yet again needed to keep his glasses together.

It was weird how a tree branch could feel more like home than his actual supposed home.

Harry knew that he did a lot of bad things, knew that he was was a lot of bad things. He was a liar first and foremost, as he lied to himself on a daily basis and didn’t hesitate to share those lies with others, and he made freaky things happen, and even if he usually didn’t mean to, every now and then he did mean it.

He sat up on his cot and focused hard on his hands, creating a small ball of light as if to prove to himself that these things were real and to remind himself that they were freaky, therefore making him a freak.

But as Harry lay back down on the cot in the fetal position and pulled his threadbare blanket over himself, he thought that even freaks probably shouldn’t be treated like this. Some of the things his relatives did were simply barbaric. All because he could produce a ball of light in the palm of his hands.

Surely not everyone could be so cruel?

***

“I wanna show you something,” Harry murmured. As usual, they were sitting high up in the oak tree. He turned his back on the playground and faced the opposite direction, Alex following his actions.

“O-kay,” said Alex. “What is it?”

“Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“I can’t do it when you’re staring at me like that, just close your eyes.”

“Fine.”

Harry took a deep breath and focused hard on the palms of his hands. It took a lot of concentration, but he managed to produce a ball of light. He had never tried it outside of his cupboard, so it was a bit of an impressive feat.

“Okay,” Harry said quietly. “Open your eyes.”

Alex’s eyelids fluttered open and then he saw her pupils dilate drastically. Her mouth formed in the shape of an O and she tilted her head as if to spot the trick. “Wha… how are you doing that?”

Harry shrugged and shook away the light. “I don’t know, really. I just can.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, but she didn’t look horrified or terrified, and she didn’t shriek and yell about him being a freak.

“Maybe you’re like a… a warlock, or something?” she suggested, and Harry had to make an effort to prevent himself from shuddering at such a magical word. But she didn’t seem disturbed by the idea, simply… interested. Maybe she was really okay with it?

“Aren’t warlocks, like, really old with long beards and stuff?” Harry asked, laughing hesitantly.

“Yeah, but… well, they have to start somewhere, I imagine.”

“I suppose,” Harry relented. “Still, warlocks aren’t real, are they?”

“Um. I dunno,” Alex said, biting her lip. “Normally I’d agree, but… you just did something fairly supernatural just now.”

“Yeah, I guess… so you… you don’t think it’s weird or anything?”

Alex snorted. “Are you kidding? Of course it’s weird. But it isn’t bad, if that’s what you mean. I think it’s wicked cool.”

“Really?” Harry hated the vulnerability just in that simple word. He hated that he needed reassurance. There was a time not so very long ago when he didn’t need anything from anyone, and now he was so ridiculously dependent on this one single person sitting beside him.

“Really. Is… is that why they don’t like you much?”

There was no question as to who “they” referred to, just as “he” didn’t require a name. The monsters who lived in their subconscious and violated their physical beings, the active prevention of joy. Harry nodded.

“That’s why they hate me. I mean, they’ve never said so explicitly, not that I can remember, but it’s pretty obvious. I do freaky things when I don’t mean to sometimes, but it doesn’t matter if it’s an accident. They punish me for something I can’t prevent and won’t tell me how to stop it, or explain why it happens.”

Alex frowned. “That’s weird. They’re the freaky ones if you ask me, I mean it all sounds incredibly cool to me. Who knows what you’re capable of, who wouldn’t want powers like that?”

“Normal people like the Dursleys…”

“Oh, am I not normal, then?” Alex smirked. “I’d love to have superpowers of any kind. Is there anything else you can do, like not as an accident?”

Harry hesitated for a second before nodding. “Yes…” he reached out and took her hand, holding it gently in his own. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do,” she said, staring down at their enclosed hands. “Why?”

“Well…” Harry had never done this with another person before, but something deep inside of himself told him that it would work.

He looked over his shoulder and scanned the playground behind them, making certain that no one was watching them. He had gotten in so much trouble the first time he had done this, before he had learned how to climb a tree. He didn’t mean to do it then, but it didn’t matter. He had ended up on the school roof with no valid explanation as to why. “It just happened” was never reason enough.

Harry held tightly onto Alex’s hand, closing his eyes and focusing intently on their destination. “I can do this,” he said to her as they disappeared from their place in the tree with a pop, ending up at the park in Little Whinging.

The trip was not a smooth one, as he had felt like he had been squeezed through a tube and didn’t really want to imagine how it must have felt for Alex, but they had made it there in one piece.

He opened his eyes as he felt Alex stumble into him, and struggled to maintain his own balance. She breathed heavily into his chest for a long moment before slowly lifting her head, eyes taking note of their location.

“Oh my God,” she breathed. “Did… did we just teleport?”

Harry hadn’t really thought of a name for it, but that one did seem to fit well. “I think so.”

“Holy crap…” She pushed herself off of him shakily and looked wildly around their surroundings, as if not quite fully believing what had just occurred.

“Do you think you’ll be okay to make it back?” Harry asked nervously, knowing that morning recess was ending soon and they would be late for school if they didn’t hurry.

“Mmm. Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be okay.”

“Alright,” he said, taking both of her hands this time, hoping to somehow lessen the impact for her. It seemed to work, as she was a bit more steady on her feet when they arrived on the ground back at school, hidden by the thickness of the tree.

They grinned at one another once they were breathing normally again. The bell rang and they casually followed their classmates into the school, as if they hadn’t just teleported across town and back.

***

Summer had approached them quickly, and before they knew it school was out. This brought some changes to Alex and Harry’s schedules as the latter no longer required the tutoring he had supposedly been receiving from Alex.

Harry had worried that this would mean that they wouldn’t be able to see one another very much despite the fact that they were neighbors, but as Uncle Vernon still worked during the day and Aunt Petunia certainly didn’t want him around just for the heck of it, as long as he had his chores completed he was free to escape to #10.

Afternoons spent at Alex’s house tended to be awkward when Emerson was there. He left them alone for the most part, but on the occasions when he would enter into a room that the two friends were in, Harry experienced such a fierce surge of anger, he was sometimes afraid that it couldn’t be tamed.

Anger was a useless emotion that would get him nowhere, he knew, but he often struggled with keeping his emotions in check. Which was when freaky things would happen. Harry was fairly certain that Emerson’s shoelaces hadn’t tied themselves together all on their own, anyway.

The world was cruel, and Harry had been starting to seriously consider if Alexandra was the only other decent human being in the world. Well, Harry wasn’t all that decent himself, but at least he only wished ill towards those who deserved it. But then, it seemed like nearly everyone deserved it. Some days it seemed like his hatred was the only thing that fueled him.

Harry knew from reading ahead in his science book that he was likely going through puberty, which brought on more emotions than should be possible. If it wasn’t his weird powers getting him into trouble, it was his mouth. He wondered if he could simply stop feeling things. It really shouldn’t be too hard, it seemed like he only ever felt two emotions in excessive form anyway; anger and sadness. He always seemed to be in a bad mood as of late, and even Alex’s cassette collection and colored pencils couldn’t cheer him up one afternoon in late July.

They were sitting out in the back lawn with the portable cassette player, sharing earbuds and sketching mindlessly. Well, Harry was, anyway. Alex was probably creating the next Starry Night. It was a hot and miserable day and Harry had snapped at Alex for no good reason a few too many times.

“Harry,” Alex finally snapped back. “Why are you in such a pissy mood today?”

Harry scowled at the strands of grass he had been pulling up from the ground. “I’m just tired,” he muttered.

“Then take a nap,” Alex offered simply. “There’s no need to bite my head off because of it.”

Harry sighed. He really was being an arse. He had no right to feel this way, annoyed, bored, whatever… It wasn’t any different than any other year, really. “I’m sorry,” he apologized quietly. “It’s just… it’s my birthday today.”

“Oh,” Alex said, pulling her earbud out and staring down at it. “I- I didn’t know.”

Harry shrugged. “I never mentioned it. It doesn’t matter, really. It’s just…” he trailed off, gazing absentmindedly in the direction of #4. The Dursleys weren’t even home that day, they had taken Dudley to some waterpark in London. Harry knew that it wasn’t a coincidence that they had chosen this particular day to do so.

It hurt a lot more than he cared to admit, knowing that Uncle Vernon had gone to the trouble of taking a Monday off of work for the sole purpose of making Harry feel insufficient.

Alex followed his gaze and sighed. “They really are the worst, aren’t they?”

Harry looked back at her, offering a sad little smile. “I don’t know about that.”

His smile was reflected in Alex. “We should do something.”

“Like what?” asked Harry. He really had no clue what normal people did for their birthdays, there was absolutely nothing special about his day of birth and Dudley received only the biggest and greatest gifts for his.

“We could try to make a cake. Maybe go to the park. Or… or we could go to a Billy Joel concert.”

“Erm, what?” Harry laughed.

“We seriously could… he’s in London tonight at Wembley Stadium, I heard about it on the radio this morning.”

“And how the hell do you suppose we get to Wembley Stadium? Ask Emerson for a ride?”

“No,” Alex said, rolling her eyes. “You could just do that little teleporting trick of yours.”

“I can’t do that all the way to London!”

“Have you ever tried?”

“No, but-“

“Then you don’t know that you can’t.”

“Okay, fine,” Harry relented, believing that it wouldn’t matter in the end. “Where are you planning on getting the money for tickets?”

“That’s where Emerson comes in. I can get it from his stash.”

“Stash?”

“Don’t ask.”

“Er, alright… but this still isn’t a good idea. And I don’t even know who Billy Joel is.”

“Oh, come on, Harry!” Alex said, sounding scandalized. “He’s the one who sings Uptown Girl, and I know that you love that song.”

Harry flushed. “It’s okay…”

“Come on, we’ll have the time of our lives!”

Harry snorted. “I just turned nine today, I do hope that there’s something a bit more noteworthy than a concert in my future.”

“It’s a figure of speech.”

Harry hugged his knees. “The Dursleys would kill me. I don’t know if a Billy Joel concert is worth my life.”

“You hate your life,” Alex giggled, “so of course it’s worth it.”

“Alex, I’m not kidding… if they find out-“

“They won’t find out. They’ll be gone until late and probably wouldn’t even notice you’ve gone. Besides, Harry,” she turned serious, “if everyone is going to label you as a bad kid anyway… why not be a bad kid? They’re going to punish you whether you deserve it or not. Might as well do something to make it worthwhile.”

He couldn’t really argue with that logic. “You’re a horrendous influence on me,” he muttered.

She smirked. “Everyone needs a bad influence. Just let me be yours.”

Harry bit his lip, knowing that this was a terrible plan but resolving to go with it anyway. “Alright. Okay. Let’s do it.”

***

“What time does it start?”

“Eight. We have a couple of hours.”

“We might only have a couple of minutes depending upon how bad this goes.”

“Don’t be such a pessimist. You can do this no problemo.”

“Sure,” Harry sighed, taking Alex’s hands in his own. “I’ve only been to London once and I think I have to kind of picture where we’re going, but I’ve seen Wembley Stadium in pictures so I’ll try my best… This might be rough, though.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“Mmm.” Harry closed his eyes tightly and Alex squeezed his hands. He took a deep breath before doing whatever the heck it was that he was doing. There was the suffocating feeling for a few seconds before it let up, and he opened his eyes to the sight of crowded London streets and a huge stadium.

“Wow,” he murmured, letting go of Alex’s hands. “It’s a lot bigger in person.”

“Wow, it actually worked and we’re both still alive,” Alex mused.

“Yes, well, unbelievable, unfortunate things happen every day,” Harry muttered under his breath.

Alex grinned at him as she took his hand again and they skipped towards the stadium together. Well, Alex skipped, Harry just tried to keep up without looking like an idiot.

“Um, Alex,” Harry said, slowing his pace as he noticed a banner above the entrance. “You realize that this concert is sold out, yes?”

Alex faced him, still grinning. “Well duh.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Oh, okay, then. How exactly do you suppose we’re going to get in?”

“We’ll buy from scalpers, of course. There’s always a few of them sitting out selling tickets.”

“A tout? Isn’t that illegal?”

“Depends who you ask. Either way, it doesn’t matter, it’s not a big deal and we’ll be fine.”

“You say that a lot…”

“Because it’s true. Look, here’s a guy now.”

Harry tried to find the guy she was referring to in the crowd but didn’t see anyone who stood out. He followed Alex anyway, prepared for this to go really bad really fast.

Alex stopped near an inconspicuous man leaning up against a telephone booth smoking a cigarette. She approached him with a straight face, no trace of her previous grin. “Hello, sir,” she greeted pleasantly.

“What do you want, kid?” the man sniffed, taking out another cigarette and lighting it. Harry resisted the urge to cough. He should be used to the smoke by now, Emerson smoked in the house all the time. Then again, Harry didn’t really think that it was tobacco that he was smoking.

“I was simply wondering if you had a couple of extra tickets for the Billy Joel show?”

“I’m not offering handouts, sweetheart.”

“And I’m not asking for a handout,” Alex said, taking out a wad of cash for all to see. It was then that Harry finally came to the conclusion that his best friend was a psychopath.

The man licked his lips. “How much you got there?”

“Mmm, not sure, I think my dad said it was like five hundred pounds…”

The man snorted, though it seemed a little forced. “Is that all?”

“Look, do you wanna sell the tickets or not?”

The tout looked left and right before sighing and pulling two tickets out of his back pocket. “Row 239. Worth way more than you’re paying, I’ll tell ya. Practically giving them away to a little girl...”

“I’m sure,” Alex responded drily. They exchanged goods and went their own ways.

“What the heck was that?” Harry questioned in a whisper once they’d walked a few feet away.

“What was what? My amazing negotiating skills?”

“Hardly,” said Harry. “You showed him all the cash before even asking the price, so of course, he took all of it.”

“That wasn’t all of it, Harry dear,” she said easily. “We still have a good bit left to spend.”

Harry felt uncomfortable. Emerson was the absolute worst human being on the planet as far as he was concerned, but still… he had that horrible moral compass that just wouldn’t leave him alone at times, which was now saying that stealing was wrong. He mentally threw the compass on the ground. “How much did you take?”

“Er… you probably don’t want to know.”

Harry nibbled on the inside of his cheek. “Don’t you think he’ll notice?”

“Depends how high he is, I guess,” Alex murmured.

They went to stand in the line to get into the stadium. Harry had never seen so many people in his life and he shuffled closer towards his friend as the crowd was moving quite quickly. Everyone handed in their tickets when they reached the front of the line, but the ticket taker stopped Alex and Harry.

“Aren’t you two a little young to be attending a concert alone?” he asked them.

“We’re not alone,” supplied Alex, turning around to face a random man Harry was sure neither of them had ever seen before in their lives. “This is our father.”

The stranger nodded, placing a hand on both Harry and Alex’s shoulders, causing Harry to feel extremely uncomfortable. “Yes, these two rugrats are my children, now may we get on with it?”

The ticket taker still looked suspicious, but let them in regardless. Once they’d reached a distance, Harry shook off the hand and Alex retrieved some more money from her jeans pocket.

“You did really well, here’s another twenty for your trouble, sir.”

“No problem, kid,” the man said, slipping the bill into his pocket.

“Another twenty?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, I slipped him one before we reached the front of the line.”

“How did you know he’d go along with it?”

Alex shrugged. “Just did.”

“Well, it was nice meeting my father, anyway.”

“Same,” Alex giggled.

“Have you done this before? Like how have you planned so perfectly for every little inconvenience?”

“Here’s the thing, Harold-”

“That’s not my name.”

“You might be book smart and all that nonsense, but I’m street smart. I have a lot of things to teach you in that department.”

“I’m- I’m street smart,” Harry defended weakly.

“Sure,” Alex said, but it sounded a bit too placating for Harry’s liking.

***

“Okay well, that was pretty amazing,” Harry found himself admitting once the concert was over. And it really was. If it hadn’t been for the near-constant fear and anxiety gnawing at his gut, it really might have been considered the time of his life.

“I told you so,” Alex responded. “Sometimes you just gotta live a little, man.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I think you might have inhaled some of the hippie juice.”

“No, it’s just a natural part of my all-around bubbly personality.”

Harry hums, looking up at the starless sky outside the stadium. “I know it’s really not much of a competition, but… this is the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

Alex smiled softly. “I’m glad to hear it.” She pulled him into an embrace. Harry didn’t know if he would ever get used to the feeling of such gentle, close contact with another human being, but he did enjoy it.

“Thanks for… well, the peer pressure, I guess,” he mutters into her shoulder.

Alex snorts. “It’s not like we got caught so no big deal, right?”

“Boy!”

Harry jumped away from Alex and nearly out of his skin. Stomach dropping, he turned to face… oh, God…

Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley were standing on the sidewalks of London. He knew that they had spent the day here, yet the possibility of running into them had never even occurred to him…

There was malicious intent shining in Uncle Vernon's eyes and Harry knew that he was definitely in trouble and most likely dead.

He didn’t remember much about the evening from that point on, just that Alex and he had been hauled into the car and the trip home was a blur. It was at least silent as his aunt and uncle were hardly going to cause a scene by having it out with him in front of the neighbor girl.

As Aunt Petunia walked her to her door once they’d arrived back at Privet Drive, Harry wondered absently how much trouble she would be in with Emerson and couldn’t help but feel just a little bit envious. Because while Emerson might have been worse as a whole, he was pretty sure that he didn’t really care what she did outside of the house and his idea of discipline was very different from the Dursleys. As in, nonexistant.

“How did you get there?” Uncle Vernon asked him quietly once they’d gotten into the house and Dudley had been sent to his room. Uncle Vernon enjoyed yelling just for the purpose of letting off steam, so it was absolutely terrifying when he was quiet like this.

Harry swallowed thickly. He could lie, he was a very good liar, but lying got tiresome. What was the point? It wasn’t as though they would go easy on him either way. Besides, maybe there needed to be a bit more honesty in the family unit. Every one of them, sans perhaps Dudley, knew what was going on here, so why not just bring it out in the open?

“I used m-magi-”

“DO NOT SAY THAT WORD!” Uncle Vernon bellowed. It would have startled Harry had he not already been on the verge of a panic.

“Why?” Harry’s dumb arse found the nerve to ask. “We both know that it’s real, and even if it wasn't, what's the big deal!?”

“The big deal is that it’s freaky and disgusting, completely abnormal. Your aunt and I did not ask to be stuck with you, the very least you could do is behave!”

“I try! I’ve tried so hard but it doesn’t matter to you! Whether I use magic or not you’ll still punish me for something, so why should I bother trying anymore?”

“Oh, I’ll show you why,” Uncle Vernon answered menacingly, meaty hands reaching out towards his nephew. Harry’s fire left him abruptly and his mentality decided to take a little vacation.

***

He sensed more than saw Alex sitting down on the ground beside him. He continued pulling weeds and did not acknowledge her presence.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured after a while. “I shouldn’t… I didn’t think that-”

“You never think,” said Harry. “That’s the problem. I- I told you that it wasn’t a good idea.” He pulled furiously at a stubborn weed. “But you never listen to me. You always think that you can do w-whatever you want, like the consequences don’t matter-”

“I’m sorry,” Alex cried. “Harry, I know I’m not- I should have- please, just look at me,” she took his chin in her hands and turned his face to hers, then gasped, letting go of him as if she had been burned.

Harry glared down at the soil of the flowerbeds, face red and fighting back tears at the sheer unfairness of it all-

“Did… did he hit you?”

“The weird thing is, I can’t even give you an honest yes or no because I don’t know.”

“How can you not know!?”

“I don’t remember!”

“You don’t remember? How can you not remember?”

“Because, Alex, I apologize, but I simply cannot remember if my uncle beats the shite out of me or not.”

“I thought they just… made you do chores and withheld food and locked you in your room sometimes, I never thought that…”

“And that wasn’t enough?” Harry asked, unable to conceal the trembling hurt in his voice “That wasn’t enough to tell you that I- I’m… they’re…”

“I-I shouldn’t have pressured you. This is… this is my fault, isn’t it? Because I dragged you to London...”

Harry didn’t say anything.

Alex stood. “I’m sorry, Harry. I am. I don’t… I’m sorry.” And then she was gone and Harry was alone again.

***

He saw Alexandra again later that day, as the sun was sinking down beneath the clouds and he was still working on the flowerbeds. While the spiteful side of him wanted to keep ignoring her, logically Harry knew that it wasn’t really her fault and he had no right to be angry at her. He was more angry with himself than anyone.

He looked up to see her ocean eyes and wondered at the vacant look in them. It took his mind another moment or two to process the fact that she was covered in blood, and everything after that seemed to happen both very slowly and very quickly.

“A-Alex, what’s happened?” he asked, jumping up, not bothering to wipe the dirt off his jeans as he rushed over to her.

“I-I’m sorry, Harry, honestly, I’m so-”

“Shh,” he murmured, hesitantly grasping her shoulders that were spotted with blood drops. “It’s not your fault. I was just lashing out because- because you were the closest thing to me, honestly. It doesn’t matter.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. What happened? Why are you all bloody?”

“Oh, Harry,” Alex breathed, bringing her glazed eyes up to meet his. “I-I did something bad. Soo bad…”

“Alex,” Harry whispered, fear tightly gripping his chest. “What did you do?”

She seemed like nothing more than a vessel for a soul that had departed as she looked into his eyes. It was so strange, being so very close to her and knowing that she wasn’t truly there. He knew what she had done, really, but he needed to hear it come from her lips. As much as he didn’t want to hear the confession, he had to.

“I hurt him. Bad. I think… I think I may have killed him.”

***

Once the tape had been put in, it did not come back out. Between My Girl, Jessie’s Girl, Uptown Girl… there were too many girls and Severus’ nerves were fraying. All day long that damn thing would play and he was really beginning to regret his attempt at kindness. The child had gone from staring at the cassette tape to staring at the cassette player. It wasn’t much of an improvement, and it was definitely unbecoming.

“Don’t you want to do something?” Severus bit out, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice. Harry simply looked at him and Severus was aware that the irritation was spreading to his face. He knew how he was supposed to behave around the boy, but it was much easier said than done.

“Here,” Severus said, opening a drawer on the side table and taking out a Muggle notebook and pencil, thrusting the items at his ward. “Write in this, make a journal out of it, doodle kittens for all I care, just… do something.”

Harry stared at the supplies that had been pushed into his hands as if they were some kind of foreign objects. Then looked at Severus as if he were Merlin himself and nodded. He looked down and turned to the first page in the notebook and started scribbling with the pencil.

Well. That wasn’t so difficult.

Severus turned the stereo volume down a couple of notches. Harry didn’t look up.

“Well?” Severus questioned once the mind-healer, Ms. Rogan, exited the room. “Anything new?”

“Professor Snape, even if he did speak to me during these sessions I would not be at liberty to share his words with you,” Ms. Rogan said (repeated, really). “But I suppose that while he’s still ignoring me, at least now he’s drawing in his notebook as he’s ignoring me.”

“Drawing?”

“Yes, and very fine sketches from what I could see. He seems to be a bit more content than he was last week. I presume the notebook was your idea?”

“Yes…” Severus drew slowly, though he hadn’t really meant the part about doodling kittens. He had assumed the boy had been spending all this time writing down his thoughts, (if he had any) which seemed to be a better use of the paper. But if the mind-healer thought it to be an improvement…

***

Harry stared out the window of the police car, heart hammering rapidly in his chest. The bobby had been nearly silent the entire drive to Little Whinging, so at least Harry hadn’t had to deal with keeping up with idle chit-chat. Instead, his mind focused on the horrific events of the past few hours and the even more horrendous ones sure to come.

The bobby pulled into the Dursley’s driveway and Harry slowly got out of the car, feeling as though he were walking to his doom. He wasn’t sure how much he even cared at this point, as he felt utterly drained now that the emotional rollercoaster he had been on was over. Why bother with fearing what the Dursleys would do to him once he entered the house? It wasn’t as though Harry would even remember it come morning.

The officer knocked on the front door and it opened to reveal Aunt Petunia. Numbness was quickly washing over Harry as he tuned out their conversation. He felt detached and floaty, and he found that he quite liked the feeling as opposed to alternatives.

“Thank you for returning him to us safely,” Aunt Petunia’s sickly sweet voice made its way into Harry’s ears, signaling the end of the exchange. She placed one of her bony hands on his shoulder and he resisted the urge to shudder.

The bobby nodded, offering an “It was no problem, ma’am,” and a “Stay out of trouble, kid,” before departing. Harry let himself fantasize for a moment of leaning into Aunt Petunia’s touch and being guided into a warm embrace, having all of his problems soothed with a gentle touch.

Reality could be cruel, however, and he was soon pulled harshly by the arm into the house.

“Where have you been, boy?” Uncle Vernon bellowed as soon as the door had been closed behind Harry. Aunt Petunia responded before Harry could even think to sort through his muddled thoughts for an answer.

“Vernon, hush!” she scolded. “The bobby is still out there.”

They were all silent for a long moment, listening for the sound of an engine starting up as they stood together in the hallway in front of the cupboard under the stairs, until Aunt Petunia deemed it safe to yell and scream at Harry, who wondered absently at the sheer insanity of this moment and wondered if his life would ever be anything less than absurd.

“What did you do to have a bobby after you, boy?” Uncle Vernon questioned furiously, pointing a chubby finger in Harry’s face.

Harry hadn’t heard much of the conversation, but he was fairly certain that the bobby must have at least offered some explanation as to why he had escorted him home. Still, he gave one of his own. It wasn’t even a lie, really.

“I… my friend, she…” Harry took a shaky breath, struggling to get the words to form in his brain and come out of his mouth. The whole thing was just so preposterous. “Her stepfather was killed. The police questioned me about it because I was with her when… when she found him.”

“Did they notice anything?” Uncle Vernon hissed through clenched teeth, his hand just barely restraining from gripping the collar of Harry’s shirt. “Did you say something?”

Harry shook his head frantically. “No, sir, of course not,” he answered honestly. What would he even say? It wasn’t as though he even had any idea what was going on in this house past the general sense of just knowing that things weren’t right. And well, he’d be pretty dense not to notice his relatives’ hatred for him at this point, but it wasn’t as if that was a crime.

Uncle Vernon straightened himself and sniffed, seeming to consider for a long moment before nodding, apparently believing Harry’s story. “Go to your cupboard,” he ordered, and Harry scrambled to obey, heart stinging only slightly over his family’s ignorance of the perhaps traumatic experience of witnessing your neighbor bleeding all over the kitchen tiles.

He laid down on his cot and pulled his blanket over his head, breathing heavily. He couldn’t see much in the darkness, but he swore he could almost feel the blood still staining his hands though he knew it was long gone. He had scrubbed the skin raw long before the bobbies had arrived.

What had occurred was still a bit of a blur to him, whether that be because of his mind attempting to repress or the sheer speed of the moment, he was unsure. Alex had been distraught and Harry had been terrified, making decisions and choices that he still wasn’t sure were the right ones. He hadn’t known what he should do, but he did know what he was going to do and had done it quickly.

If the police knew what Alex had done, Harry knew that she would be sent away. Even if she had gotten away with… what she had done, she would likely be taken away from her mother’s potential custody and put into some sort of mental hospital or juvie. It was self-defense, yes, but she was still just a kid who had…

In the end, it had all been for naught, as Alex had been put into foster care regardless, at least until her mum could take care of her again. It could have been a lot worse, though, as she was currently in a group home and God only knew where she might have been sent if she had admitted to the...

Harry didn’t want to think about it. He really didn’t know what might have happened, but he hadn’t wanted to take a chance on something horrible. He wasn’t going to let Alex suffer because of Emerson any longer.

So it was with those thoughts that he brought Alex back to her house and had her sit down on the porch steps with her head on her knees while he attempted to take care of things. He knew that these kinds of things were very difficult to cover up, but Alex was nine. Who would even suspect her?

It wasn’t as though he had to plant the drugs as they were already spewed across the floor. Emerson must have been high when it happened, he usually was, so his system would show that as well. Drug users had drug dealers, and drug dealers had enemies. Harry just had to dispose of the knife that held Alex’s fingerprints, which wasn’t too difficult. It took a lot of focusing on his powers to make it disappear, but he managed. Breaking the window wasn’t really a bother, either.

The hard part was picking up the cordless phone, dialing 112, and proceeding to lie his arse off.

***

“So,” the officer, whose name tag read Barton, said, “you and your friend entered the home late this afternoon and upon entering the kitchen, found Mr. Carpiniello on the floor, yes?”

Harry had always been a bit of a smartarse and even in this situation where he really should just sniffle and nod, he couldn’t help but correct the officer on that one minor detail. “I- I’m not sure what his last name was, but it wasn’t Carpiniello. He was only Alex’s stepfather.”

Officer Barton raised his eyebrows before looking down at the file in his hand, apparently trying to find Emerson’s last name. Harry almost would have felt bad for the lack of respect in the deceased had he not been such an absolute scumbag.

The bobby cleared his throat and tried again. “Davis. So you and Miss Carpiniello found Mr. Davis’ body?”

Harry sniffled and nodded.

“Did you happen to know anything about Mr. Davis’ drug affiliations?” Officer Barton asked.

“I dunno, sir, I never really asked. I’m friends with Alex, not her stepfather.”

The man chuckled lightly before sighing. “Sorry, kid, this is… a weird situation.”

Harry sucked in a breath and decided to let it out as a choked sob. He pinched the skin on his thigh, hard, willing the tears to come. “I know, it’s so-” He broke off, scrubbing at his face furiously. “He was such a nice guy, and Alex, she… she loved him so much.”

Officer Barton nodded, eyes sympathetic. “I’m sorry for your loss. Do you want some water, some tea, or-”

“Can- can I just go home now, please?” Harry asked, feeling drained despite not having lost anything special with Emerson and wishing he had a real home to go to.

“Yeah, of course, I have your statement so you should be good to go. Just- one more thing, kid. Where did you get that shiner on your cheek?”

Harry’s mind drew a blank. He hadn’t thought much of it since Alex had pointed it out earlier in the day, which felt like years ago, and it hadn’t occurred to him that he might need more than one cover story. He was a fairly quick thinker when it came to talking BS, though.

“My cousin, he… we don’t really get along, y’know. He’s quite a bit bigger than me. More than a bit, really, he’s actually on the obese scale.” Harry offered a snicker for good measure. He was running the risk for overkill, though, as he had been sobbing not two minutes ago.

“Mmm. You’re a skinny thing yourself though, eh?”

“Er, yeah. Get it from my father, I think. Everyone says he was quite skinny. I don’t remember though.”

Harry hated playing the orphan card, but it usually did work rather well

The officer’s eyes softened in sympathy. “Oh, yeah, of course, you… you live with your aunt and uncle. Well, I’ll just get someone to escort you home.”

“It’s okay, sir, I can just walk with Alex,” Harry said. Officer Barton furrowed his brows.

“I’m sure you realize that she can’t just live on her own, yeah? She’ll have to be put into foster care until her mother is able to care for her.”

Harry stared blankly at the bobby, the idea of Alex not living a mere few doors down from him felt obscure. He wasn’t sure why it hadn’t occurred to him before, however. Of course she couldn’t just live on her own. Even if she would be better off that way than living with Emerson. At least that wouldn’t be an issue anymore.

“You can visit her once she’s settled though,” Officer Barton offers. Harry nodded absently.

“Could… could I just see her before I leave?” he asked.

Officer Barton agreed, leading him out of the questioning room and to wherever Alex was. It wasn’t a terribly long trek, and they found her sitting in a chair gazing unblinkingly at the floor. She didn’t really even acknowledge Harry’s presence.

“Hey, Lexie,” Harry said quietly, sitting down beside her and attempting to meet her eyes. “How are you holding up?”

Alex shrugged before slumping onto Harry’s shoulder, eyes now closed. Harry ran a hand through her hair and Officer Barton had the decency to look away from the scene rather than coo over how precious it was or some such nonsense.

“I’m not coming home,” Alex said, sounding detached.

“I know,” Harry murmured, grabbing her hand and squeezing it. “Are you gonna be okay?”

She lifted her head and nodded it sluggishly. “Yeah, yeah… I think I will be.”

“I’ll visit you. Once you’re settled,” Harry said, though it was an empty promise. He has no clue where she will be placed and even if it were next door, the Dursleys might not ever let him out of their sight again after this little incident.

Alex offered a little smile. “Thanks, Harry. For everything.”

So many words were left unspoken as the two communicated with only their eyes. Sometimes things just didn’t have to be vocalized. Also, couldn’t, as there was a bobby standing right there listening to their every breath.

“You ready to go, kid?” Officer Barton asked, apparently out of patience for a pair of nine-year-olds’ heartfelt goodbyes. It was fine, though. It wasn’t as though they wouldn’t ever see each other again, Harry knew that with every fiber of his being.

***

Even so, it was more than just a little bit difficult adjusting to life without Alex.

Privet Drive was a bit more agonizing to bear without the knowledge of Harry having a friend a few doors down. Life was practically back to the way it was before Alex had come into it. He did his chores, did God knows what in his missing spaces, and spoke to no one unless spoken to.

So Harry’s life was back to feeling hopeless and devoid, basically.

He knew that Alex would return, as the house still belonged to her mother or someone in the family, Harry was unsure. But the longer it sat empty, the more Harry felt empty himself. Days blurred together and school had started back before he could really wrap his head around the fact that he would be starting it alone, just as he had a year previous. It was as though his life hadn’t changed at all in that time.

He had spent so many years in primary school being an outcast, being lonely, and for a few short months, he had been offered a reprieve from that lifestyle. However, that only made it all the more difficult to adjust to normal life again.

One odd thing was Dudley’s antagonism or lack thereof. He certainly wasn’t being nice, but he mostly ignored Harry unless egged on by the gang, which was extremely strange. Dudley was usually the one to start things. They didn’t talk at all outside of school, and upon further reflection, Harry realized that he had been behaving this way for a while.

It was weird.

***

The guidance counselor possessed the ability to deliver irritating lines in a gentle tone.

She kept saying that she only wanted to help Harry, but he didn’t particularly care.

“I know that you’ve been more withdrawn than usual, but this deterioration in your grades…” she sighed, shuffling through the papers before setting them to the side of her desk. “You’re very intelligent, Harry, even if you try not to show it. I would hate to see that potential wasted.”

“I don’t know why you think I’m so smart,” Harry muttered. “I fail most of the tests.”

“And yet you do so well on others. You’re simply not putting the effort in on the others and I just don’t understand why. If you’re having trouble at home…”

“I’m not,” Harry said quickly. He wondered why any of it mattered now. None of his teachers had ever cared whether or not he was happy before. Was his misery really so much more apparent now that there was a stark contrast to compare it to?

The guidance counselor frowned but didn’t argue with him. “I’m sure that things have been difficult since your friend left us, but why don’t you ever play with the other children?”

The other children hate me. The other children aren’t Alex.

“I don’t like them,” Harry said simply, which wasn’t exactly a lie. Maybe if they hadn’t decided to hate him upon first sight in grade one, maybe he would feel differently.

The woman narrowed her eyes. “I’m concerned for you, Harry. It doesn’t do well to isolate yourself from your peers.”

“My social life is kind of my own business, isn’t it?” Harry’s voice came out far more snide than he might have intended. He took a deep breath before attempting to salvage his control of the conversation. “I’ll work on my grades, I promise. I’ll try harder.” He really didn’t have to try at all to achieve that, but that was beside the point.

Things were silent for a long moment before the guidance counselor responded. “Okay. But, Harry… I’m here if you ever need to talk. Please remember that.”

Harry nodded slowly, staring at the speck of imperfection on the wall beyond her. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll remember it. Thanks.”

***

Harry gazed at the knife block sitting on the kitchen counter, thinking of blood and lies and cold dead eyes.

“Harry,” a voice said tentatively, breaking him out of his reverie. He slid his eyes over towards the direction of the sound and found his cousin staring at him.

“...Yeah?”

“Are… are you okay?”

Harry blinked.

“I know it’s not really my business, but you- you’ve just been acting really weird, lately.”

“You’re the one who’s been acting weird, Dudders,” Harry redirected the conversation, moving his gaze back over to the knives.

“I’m sorry about Alexandra,” Dudley said. “I’m sorry for making fun of her all the time.”

“It’s not like she’s dead,” Harry responded, unsure why he felt the need to point that out. Maybe because everyone who spoke her name acted as though they were at a funeral. People only ever regretted how they treated someone once they were gone.

They were silent for long moments until Dudley tried again. “Harry?”

“Mm?”

“Do you remember when that bobby came to school last year, and told us all about the signs of- of-”

Harry snapped his eyes back to Dudley, who was struggling to get the word out of his system. He gave up once he noticed Harry’s glare.

“Is that why you’re trying to repent for your sins or whatever? Because you feel sorry for me or something?”

Dudley’s eyes widened in surprise. “No, no, that’s not what I- it’s just, do you remember the guidelines they gave us about it all?”

“Funnily enough, I didn’t really have to memorize the guidelines as I live them every day,” Harry said, though he was fully aware of the irony of that statement.

Dudley bit his lip. “I’m sorry. It- it just kind of got me thinking-”

“You, thinking?” Harry sniped. “It’s a miracle on 34th Street.”

“Harry, would you just shut up for a minute and listen?”

“Why should I? We’ve lived together for as long as either of us can remember and you’re just now taking notice of your surroundings? What exactly do you want me to do about it?”

“I don’t know!” Dudley shouted. “I just didn’t want you to think that I think it’s okay or something, because it’s not!”

“Duddykins?” Aunt Petunia shrieked from the other room before she came running into the kitchen. She sent Harry a glare as soon as she spotted him sitting at the table. “What’s going on, baby? What did he do?”

“Nothing,” Dudley said, standing up from the chair. “He didn’t do anything at all.”

He turned around and stormed up the stairs. Harry was sent to his cupboard before Aunt Petunia went after him to soothe all his little aches and pains as usual.

It didn’t matter. It never did.

If Harry accidentally nicked himself with the knife while chopping the vegetables for dinner that night and the blood oozing from his skin didn’t bother him at all, then no one had to know. It wasn’t as though anyone would care, anyway. There was no one left to.

“You said you were going to visit.”

Harry lifted his head to the sight of Alex standing below their tree, which brought a surge of energy to his system.

“What- what are you doing here?”

“Doing your job, I guess,” Alex said. “Visiting.”

“I’m sorry… I didn’t know where you were.”

“Did you ask?”

Harry ignored the question. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

Alex climbed up the tree, brushing her hair back behind her shoulders once she’d reached the branch with Harry. “Do you care?”

“Of course, I care! Alex, I’m- I’m sorry, I just- it’s been…” Harry struggled for the words to describe the haze that had taken over his mind the past few weeks.

“It’s alright,” Alex relented quietly. “I know what you mean.”

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked again. “Not that I’m not glad to see you, but, won’t you get into trouble?”

Alex shrugged. “It’s early recess. I can make it back to my school on time, it’s only a few streets over.”

“How are you? Is- is the foster home okay?”

“It’s fine,” Alex shrugged again before a smile graced her lips. “I have some good news, actually.”

Harry wasn’t sure if he had ever heard good news before. “What is it?”

“My mom is out of rehab and she’s working on getting me back!”

Harry was still unsure if he had ever heard good news before. “Oh, uh, that’s great! Does- does that mean-”

“I’ll get to move back to Privet Drive,” Alex grinned.

Now Harry was smiling, too. “Really? That’s great! When do you think it’ll happen?”

“Probably soon! Some people are just trying to decide if my mom is, like, fit for me or something, I dunno. She’s my mother, so of course she’s fit, I don’t know what’s taking so long!”

Harry wished that there was someone to decide whether or not the Dursleys were fit guardians for him. He didn’t think that blood really mattered all that much in these cases, if someone were a crap parent then they were a crap parent. He just hoped that wasn’t the case for Alex.

“That’s great, Lexie,” Harry smiled encouragingly. “Hopefully it’ll all be worked out soon.”

Alex grinned back. “Yeah, hopefully. Anyway, I better get off to school. Have a good day!” She gave him a quick hug before making her departure, sliding down the tree and running off to school, leaving Harry to wonder how he could possibly have a good day at his own.

***

Harry didn’t wake up with a scream after being shaken awake from a nightmare, but it was a near thing once he noticed the large figure looming over his cot. If the dream wasn’t scary enough, that certainly was.

“Dudley, what, what the-”

“Um, sorry,” Dudley apologized, which didn’t answer Harry’s questions in the least. He struggled to collect himself after the intense dream of cold dead eyes staring up at him, even more so now that he had an apparent companion to witness his mini freak out.

“I was just going to the kitchen for a snack and I heard you and-”

“I was making noise?” Harry asked, alarmed. That could become a major problem for his health if these nightmares continued and Uncle Vernon was to hear him.

“Nothing major,” Dudley assured quickly. “Just some rustling, and I, uh, wanted to check and make sure you were okay.”

Harry blinked. “What?”

It was too dark to really tell, but Harry thought that Dudley was blushing. “I just wanted to see that you were alright, mate.”

That last word was what brought Harry back to reality. He sat up, trying to make himself appear larger (which was nearly impossible next to Dudley) while huffing, “I’m not your mate.”

Dudley looked away, seemingly chastised. “Yeah, I know, sorry, Harry, I just…”

“Well don’t,” Harry sighed, feeling too exhausted to deal with his cousin’s apparent personality crisis just now. He lay back down, pretending that he was actually capable of falling back to sleep as he turned his back to Dudley.

It took several long moments, but Dudley eventually did leave, offering a “Sleep well, Harry,” on his way out.

Surprisingly, he did.

***

It took a few more months, but the day that #10 was resided in again brought something like a jolt to Harry’s system. He knew that it would happen eventually, but it still felt like a shock.

It was a bigger shock, however, when Alex came running out of the house.

With a dog.

And… a baby.

***

Severus awoke with a jolt. He stared at the darkness of his bedroom for a moment, unsure of what had woken him until he heard it again. A scream, or something similar.

Severus then jumped out of bed and hurried down the hall to Harry’s room. The boy was tangled in the sheets, flinging his arms about as if to fend off some invisible attacker. Severus approached him quickly but cautiously.

“Harry,” he stated firmly. “You need to wake up.”

The boy continued to thrash about and Severus hesitantly reached a hand out to shake him awake. “Harry. It’s time to wake up now.”

Suddenly the boy’s eyes flew open and he darted away from Severus, back making rough contact with the headboard. They stared at each other for a bit before Harry seemed to deflate, shoulders drooping as he calmed down.

“Are you quite alright?” Severus asked after a moment. Harry nodded quickly.

“Well… try to go back to sleep,” Severus said, hesitating just a minute before leaving Harry alone, closing the door behind him and returning to his own bedroom.

This trend continued for several nights in a row until Severus finally asked, “Would you like to talk about it?”

The boy still rarely spoke, and when he did it wasn’t much more than one-word responses to questions Severus would ask. He didn’t say anything now, but then, Severus hadn’t really expected him to. They sat in silence for several minutes, and when Harry’s eyes had begun to close Severus stood to leave. A hand caught his own and stopped him before he could exit.

“Just… stay. Please,” Harry whispered, voice so soft Severus would have missed it if he had not been listening for it. But he always was listening, in hopes that one day maybe the old Potter would come back, the smart-mouthed and snarky Potter, the Potter he thought he knew.

The Potter that had never truly existed.

“Alright,” Severus murmured, sitting back down beside his ward. “I’ll stay.”

Harry nodded but did not let go of Severus’ hand as he laid his head back down on the pillows, closing his eyes after several minutes.

Severus watched as he fell back to sleep, torn between feeling glad that Harry would reach out to him for comfort and sad that his defenses were down so low that he would latch on to anyone, even someone who had shown little care for him in the past.

The next day, Albus Dumbledore made an appearance.

Severus was a bit surprised to see him come to visit Harry. Albus had practically abandoned the boy to him, apparently not being able to handle the lack of sanity.

But here he was. With a dog.

“What. Is. That?” Severus asked dangerously.

“Why, it’s a dog, Severus! Surely, you can recognize a dog?”

“I can most certainly identify a dog,” Severus snarled. “I am merely wondering why one is present in my home. What is it doing in my house?”

“I brought it for Harry. I thought that perhaps-”

“The last thing that boy needs is a pet. He can’t even take care of himself!”

“Severus, it’s-“

Suddenly the dog bolted away from Albus and ran towards the stairs. Severus turned to see Harry standing there, petting it.

“Macy,” Harry said, nearly inaudible.

“I thought you might like to see him,” Albus said, oblivious or uncaring of the stress he was causing for Severus.

“She’s a girl,” Harry muttered, sitting down on the stairs and hugging the dog close to him.

“Miss Carpiniello left her and-”

“Obviously, she left him,” Harry snapped, eyes growing dark. “She couldn’t exactly take him with her, could she?”

Harry rarely ever spoke so many words at once, and certainly never with this level of ferocity. It could be good for him, Severus thought.

“We’ll keep the dog,” Severus said, opening the door. “You, Headmaster, are free to leave.”

“Severus, really…”

Severus pushed him out the door.

***

Perhaps it should have been the baby that scared the ever-loving crap out of Harry, and while it was certainly a shock, it wasn’t a dog.

Harry hated dogs.

More like, dogs hated Harry, which in turn made Harry hate dogs. It was sorta like with the Dursleys, if they didn’t have such a problem with him he most likely wouldn’t have a problem with them, but seeing as they started the dislike…

Harry had no lost love for dogs.

Thank goodness it was on a leash being held back by Alex, otherwise Harry probably would have bolted.

“Harry!” Alex called, grinning broadly. “Meet Macy! Oh, and uh, this is my sister, Charlotte.”

“Chwarlie!” the baby cried, apparently not exactly an infant if she could talk. So Harry wasn’t all that good with ages, whatever.

Alex rolled her eyes. “We call her Charlie for short.”

Harry really didn’t know where to go from here. Obviously, the whole Alex-Has-A-Baby-Sister thing probably should have been his first concern. But as the group came closer, Harry really couldn’t help but to hyper-fixate on the dog.

“Alex,” Harry said once the dog’s nose was only inches away from his person. “I don’t- I don’t like dogs.”

Alex laughed, she actually laughed. “Oh, come on, Harry. She’s just a puppy.”

If that gigantic thing was a puppy, then Harry really didn’t want to witness it grow up. He took a couple steps back. “Alex, I’m serious, I, I- I don’t like dogs.”

Realization flooded her face. “Oh. You’re not afraid of dogs, are you?”

Harry had a lot of fears, and he hated admitting to every single one of them. But this one was perhaps ultra embarrassing, and having a baby-toddler-thing staring at him with a shocked expression on her face (and drool exiting her lips), while the dog itself was right there, doing the same thing, didn’t help one bit.

Harry flushed. “Alex, I really, I really can’t-”

“Okay, okay,” Alex relented, turning back towards the house with the puppy. “Um, watch Charlie for me, I’ll be right back.”

Harry started down at the child, blinking owlishly. “Um, hello.”

Charlie grinned toothily. “Hwello!”

Harry struggled to come up with something to say. No one really spoke to him when he was a toddler, so he really didn’t know what the norm was. Luckily Alex came running back before he blurted out something stupid.

“I put her up for now, um, yeah, anyway, this is my sister, well, half-sister, Charlie. She’s three.”

“‘M’lmost fwour!”

“Uh, yeah, she’s almost four. Like, next year, but whatever.”

Harry bit his lip. “Um, when did you get a sister?”

“Well, like, four years ago, I guess.”

Harry laughed, perhaps a little hysterically. “I mean, like, you’ve never mentioned her before.”

“She was still living in the states with my grandmother, so she just, you know, wasn’t around so… yeah, anyway, do you wanna meet my mom? She’s in the house.”

Harry wondered if he was dreaming, as this whole situation was terribly strange and chaotic, but the dog had been removed from the picture and his dreams were typically much more frightening than this, so, no, probably not dreaming. He followed Alex into the house, Charlie stumbling after them.

***

Alex’s mum was certainly an interesting character.

She was… young, for one. Yet she seemed so old at the same time. Harry supposed that drugs could do that to a person. She hardly seemed like someone who would be a mother and as far as Harry was concerned, she wasn’t. She hadn’t been there for Alex when she had really needed her, so what right did she have to waltz right back into her life now?

But she clearly did hold the power to take Alex away from the foster system, so Harry kept his mouth shut and his personal opinions to himself.

Alex’s mother, Rebecca Andrea Carpiniello Davis, did not seem exactly fully recovered, but she was certainly back in her daughter’s life. Both of them.

“I’m so glad to be reunited with my babies,” Ms. Davis said as she hugged Alex close to her side, kissing the top of her head. “I’m just so sad about Emerson, I, I can’t believe…”

Harry glared down at the kitchen floor tiles. How did Alex bear it?

“I suppose that my children’s fathers just keep disappearing,” Ms. Davis laughed a little, just a bit less hysterical than Harry felt inside.

Harry’s eyes widened in realization, looking from Charlie to Alex who seemed to be making a point of not looking at him.

“At least everything is alright now,” Ms. Davis said wistfully, motioning for Charlie to come sit in her lap. “I know I messed it all up before, but it’s going to be good now, I promise.”

The look on Alex’s face said otherwise.

***

Harry hadn’t been in Alex’s bedroom in ages. The appearance hadn’t changed any, but somehow Harry felt that it should.

“So, um, sister, huh?”

Alex nodded, silently thumbing through her cassette collection. Harry didn’t know why she bothered looking for something different, they were just going to end up with the Beatles as usual.

“Is she…”

“She’s his, yes,” Alex muttered, finally settling with Abbey Road. Her favorite.

“Oh,” Harry murmured quietly, watching as she slipped the tape into her stereo player. It was apparently on side B as You Never Give Me Your Money started playing.

Alex sat on the floor next to him, closing her eyes. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“A-are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“If you ever do…”

Alex opened her eyes, glaring up at the ceiling. “Don’t you realize how hard it is for me?” she hissed. “To look into her eyes and I know that her beloved Daddy was my-”

And in the middle of investigation, I break down

“I’m- I’m sorry,” Harry apologized quickly. “I’m- I’m so inconsiderate-”

“Jesus Christ, Harry, you are so stupid.”

“I- I know?”

Alex rolled her eyes, laughing lightly. “Your self esteem is so low, it makes it so hard to be mean to you, I swear.”

“Sorry?” Harry said again, smiling a little.

Alex turned to face him, smiling slightly back at him before sighing. “Anyway… That's why I never mentioned her,” she mumbled. “I know it’s not her fault, but it's just, a lot, I guess.”

Harry nodded in understanding, his mind somehow conjuring up an image of Dudley in the midst of this. Did Harry allow his cousin’s parents' actions against him influence how he felt about him? Of course not, not really. Dudley was a terrible bloke by his own merit. But, well, lately…

“Anyway,” Alex said, breaking his train of thought. “It’s time to conquer your fear of dogs.”

***

Aunt Marge was as horrible as the Dursleys on her own, but it was her dogs that made her way worse in Harry’s mind.

Harry had never been overly fond of the creatures, but it was those bulldogs that really cemented his hatred and Ripper in particular who created his fear.

Terrified didn’t suit. Petrification was closer.

Harry hated dogs, really, truly, despised them.

But he had to admit that this one was awfully cute, even while he kept his five foot distance.

“How is she a puppy?” Harry asked, genuinely curious. The creature was huge.

Alex laughed. “I guess she’s not anymore. She’s like three or so now, but she’s a Labrador Retriever so she’s always been pretty big. Mom got her for me so I wouldn’t be jealous of the baby or something.”

“Yeah, because you’d be too focused on fear to worry about jealousy, I suppose,” Harry muttered, hugging his arms against his stomach.

“Oh, come on, Harry,” Alex said, rolling her eyes and gesturing for him to come closer. “She’s really gentle.”

“People say that about a lot of things before they attack you,” Harry said uneasily, stepping a few feet closer.

“She’s not gonna attack you,” Alex promised, stepping forward a bit so they met in the middle. The dog’s wet snout nearly touched his hand and Harry held his breath.

“Say hi, Macy,” Alex murmured softly.

Macy barked and Harry jumped back, letting out a very girly sounding shriek. Alex laughed at his discomfort and he glared at her.

“I’m sorry,” Alex apologized, voice sounding sincere but the smile on her face stated otherwise.

“I’m sure,” Harry said sarcastically.

“Alright, alright… why don’t you just pet her?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No,” Alex giggled. “Really, Harry, just give it a try. You might be surprised.”

Harry mentally said a quick prayer before coming closer to the dog, who was wagging her tail like crazy. He closed his eyes before resting his hand on her head, flinching slightly at the feeling of smooth fur. He might have been expecting to feel something similar to needles rather than the softness he felt instead.

Harry hummed slightly, opening his eyes to find that Macy was still wagging her tail and Alex was grinning broadly. “You did it!” she cheered.

“Yes, and I hate it,” Harry said, though he may have been lying just a little. He supposed that it felt kind of nice, maybe.

“I’m gonna go grab her treats, I’ll be right back!” Alex said, tossing the leash to Harry before bolting. Harry stared at the doorway before turning back to the dog when she started to whine.

“Um, it’s fine,” Harry said awkwardly, still a bit terrified. “She’ll be right back. She only left for a minute because she hates me, I guess.”

Macy started wagging her tail again, and it seemed like something akin to a smile.

Harry smiled slightly. “She’s horrible to me, really. I dunno why I still hang out with her…”

The dog licked his hand and Harry made a face, but still took a seat on the floor beside her. “You’re not so bad, I guess.”

Macy nuzzled her nose into his hair. Harry sighed, allowing it to happen. “My relatives hate me because I have weird powers or something, I hate you because you’re a dog. Neither makes much sense, does it? Seems kinda silly to condemn an entire species when they can’t even help who they are, I guess.”

Macy barked.

Alex slid back into the room, still grinning widely. “Getting acquainted?”

“Seeing as you left us with no other choice… Where’s the treats?”

Alex looked down at her hands, flushing. “Oh, uh, guess I forgot. Be right back!”

Harry rolled his eyes. Girls.

***

And so, the year of 1989 was something of a good one.

The Dursleys didn’t want him around anymore than usual, and Harry had more freedom than ever before. Even while Harry wasn’t exactly a fan of Ms. Davis, he was glad that she seemed okay with him being around. It was so much better spending time with Alex now that Emerson was out of the picture, and Charlie being around wasn’t exactly a bother. He even overcame his fear of dogs, to a certain extent. He liked Macy pretty well, anyway.

It was in April on Alex’s tenth birthday, after they’d eaten a great helping of cake, that she brought up the school.

“Mama said that I should apply to art school,” Alex murmured, sketching a vague portrait of Harry as My Girl played on the stereo in the background. “There’s like a boarding school in Woodford that sounds really cool.”

Harry looked up from his own sketching, blinking. “Chatfield?”

“Uh huh,” Alex hummed, her tongue sticking out slightly as she highlighted. “They teach the main subjects, of course, but the focus is on art.”

“Sounds like she’s just trying to send you away,” Harry muttered, worry filling his chest at the thought.

Alex gave him a look, one she always brought out when he suggested something less than stellar about her mother. “I don’t even care. I’d love to go… and I think you should come with me.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Come on, Alex, I’d never get accepted into a school like that.”

“You have talent, and that’s all that matters.”

“Nowhere near as good as you.”

“Everyone has a different style, it can’t be compared.”

Harry rolled his eyes again. “It doesn’t matter. They’d still never accept me.”

Alex sighed. “It doesn’t hurt to try. Just… apply, please? I don’t wanna go without you, and you could finally get away from the Dursleys.”

Well, that was more than enough to spring Harry into action.