Start of time by Hopeless Wanderer

Chapter seventeen.

Harry could still vaguely recall their first departure when he was a child. He was never kin to admit that he was really clingy and difficult when it came to Dad leaving him for any periods of time, it was almost unbearable for the first few years.

The thought of him just /not/ coming back actually hurt Harry more than the illusion of Dad leaving him willingly and with Harry knowing.

When they had to stay apart because of Dad's work, Harry stayed up and cried for hours to no end, or meekly stayed silent; he didn't act bratty like Aiden or Dudley, he rather expressed his discomfort with pathetic whimpers and inward self destruct, their goodbyes were long, tearful (on his part) and full of hugs and promises.

Even when he grew older, he alway had a latch of anxiety as Dad left for one reason or another, though he didn't dare to mention it after he had entered Hogwarts, he always had the constant fear.

Their hardly called separation at the ministry left him in shambles, and sort of detached from the reality as James and Lily escorted him out of the ward, grabbing hands and gaping mouths, flashes of cameras, and finally toward the magically enchanted cars waiting for them by the telephone booth. Lily didn't ride with them and took off the other way, as Harry was numbly pushed in the car by his smirking father.

The smirk that clearly showed the man's smug triumph. Leaving only one thing on Harry's mind; this could not be happening.

Harry had no idea how or when he got /there/.

The Potter mansion was majestic at its best, and a hell hole for Harry as a child. Any suspecting stranger would only catch a glimpse of the Grand mansion with high windows and a long porch, surrendered by a clearing and then fading into the woods, they would see that the West wing of the Manor was detached from the east and main wing, where Harry had used to live.

It was well into the day when the ministry's assigned car, drove into the clearing, and Harry got to glimpse at his old home the way a total stranger would, sitting rigid and tensely in his seat, eyes red from the mere efforts he put through to not break down in front of the man lunging in his seat right next to Harry.
He wasn't even sure why were they driving there with cars, Harry's health bill had came clean a week ago, and he could just floo and side along apparate as well as before. Magical interception... He realized sluggishly.

He got to see the west wing first, slightly smaller, padded with dull grey marbles, high, demanding and as graceful as it could get, took over by the vines and unruly ivies by the passing years. Harry knew for a fact that there was a simple double door entering to the house from behind, as the main entrance was connected to the house from the east wing, and the doors were just customary.

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his breath hitching as his bleak memories crashed over his somewhat blank mind in gigantic waves. Calm down. He ordered himself. It wasn't the end of the world, it was nothing he hadn't experienced before. It was pain, simple and bland as it got.

He was undeniably tense, he couldn't believe what was happening. Having not moved an inch since he had been forcibly settled in the backseat with his father. James was basically right next to him, able to do anything.

James could have beat him to death with his bare hands alone all while their forty minutes ride, and Harry wouldn't have made a peep. Muted with fear, and rage, shaking inside out as he just tersely stared at his lap.

What happened to his dad? Was he alright? Did they hurt him? What happens now? Would he be back in his old dark dingy cupboard? He shuddered at the thought.

Subconsciously the thought of his cupboard whipped Harry back to getting trapped in that tree trunk, heaving, as flames took over his senses, feeling as he was burning and freezing to death all at the same time, and that repulsive odor of burnt flesh.

He shook his head savagely. He could not afford a panic attack right now. Not with James in the car.
Oh god, he was in the same car as /James/ Potter.

The car came to a grinding stop just in front of the gates before he knew it. Harry opened his eyes. How long had he kept them close?

"I..." he cleared his throat.

James raised his eyebrows curiously . Harry just shook his head, seeing no point in arguing with the man. This was ridiculous, he mused to himself.
But, he didn't get to say goodbye.

This felt way more permanent and long lasting than the other ones. Harry felt like he was violated, by being denied the right to say goodbye. And he was sure Dad was feeling the same.

He didn't get out of the car by choice, feeling like tiny spiders were crawling down his arm, to the tips of his fingers that was settled on his lap and right back to his shoulder. He shrugged off his shoulders and gulped.

Get out of the car, before Dad comes and gets you himself.

Harry scrambled out of the car and /slammed/ it shut behind him, stomping his way to the cobblestoned way that led to the porch. Little rocks groveled under his unbalanced feet.

"Home sweet home prongslet." Harry didn't turn to look back at the car as it left, instead he wrenched his trunk from James' loose hold and scowled.

"Don't call me that." the door creaked open and the man stepped ahead.

"Hmm, cranky are we?" he mused with an amused tint. Harry gritted his teeth. Berating himself for still being /afraid/ of the man who was so blatantly making fun of him.

Grow up Harold.

"What do you think?" he finally managed to bit out.

"I think..." James sighed."That, you are too biased towards me and your mother for the predicament Snivelous is put under. Chill out a little."

"Or what? You take the belt on me?"

James shrugged in response. "If you want me to. Physical discipline isn't all that bad, it worked with you." he winked, and opened a engraved double door that led to the drawing room.

"It was abuse." there was no doubt in that. Not a single day passed by without Harry thinking about those horrible days.

James however groaned in something akin to exasperation and paused by the elegant spiral staircase. "No it wasn't." the man dramatically drawled out. "You were a kid, you could barely remember these things. Snape, that filthy snake, drilled the concept of abuse into your mind later on."

"You locked me in a cupboard." he hated how his voice trembled even as he tried to calm himself.

James actually grinned, then rolled his eyes, as if Harry was sharing an exaggerated inside joke with the man.

"You /played/ in a cupboard," he said. " you are the one who is warping your childhood into things that they aren't. Grow up Harold." hands deep in his pockets, James left Harry to trail after him to the other room.

"You hit me, you insulted me, disregarded me... You hated me." with every step he declared each word while emphasizing. James gave an easy shrug.

"I was ashamed of you, still am to an extent, and always will be. That however, does not make me an abuser." he admitted, they were in the main living room now. A room Harry could distinctly recall, didn't spend much time in it, but it was one of his most recent memories of that room that made it accountable.

"Dad never did any of those." he gulped, absolutely refusing to look at the windows, where his last beating took place almost nine years ago. Not a single thing looked out of place, not even the specks of dust that hung heavy around throughout the room.

As if he had left it just yesterday. He even swore, he would find tracks of stale blood if he looked hard enough.

"Dad?! So your /dad/ wasn't the one to hit you? /Never/ insulted you? Are you telling me that he's never been ashamed of you? If he hadn't, then what the hell are you doing here?" James spat, sneering viciously when the child said none.

"That's right." he snapped his fingers. "You can't answer that, the same way you couldn't at the court. What is that saying...truth will out in the end?"

"You're disgusting." Harry reeled.

James clicked his tongue. "Insulting me isn't going to help you in the long run kid, be smart."

"I would never think of it."

"Hmm, as you wish. Think of me as anything, your dad, father, papa, your /abuser/. Funny, your brother doesn't share the same sentiment, if I were an abuser, you would think the feeling would be mutual for him too."

"You never abused him as you did me. You never hit him." feeling like a petulant child, he tried not to flinch as James raised his eyebrows and leaned by his bald head. His breath tickling Harr's neck.

He whispered. "I played favorites, son. No matter how hard a parent denies, deep down, in his heart, there's always a favorite." he empathized on each word with patience. Harry drew back abruptly, his chest contracting with hate and loathing towards this... Man. Honestly, even that title was too exaggerated for him.

"Where's my room? Or am I sleeping in a cupboard again?" he shouldn't be saying these things. He shouldn't be making things hard for Dad when the time came, but fuck it, he couldn't keep his mouth shut at all. The moment his eyes fell on the man, he wanted to go for kill.

James however laughed it off. "Huh, well we tried, but you're too big for that place now," he gestured wildly with his hands. "Enlarging it wouldn't do any of us any good, so I suppose you may take the room at the end of the hall." as if talking about sleeping in a cupboard was the most natural thing. Harry reeled.

"I want to be in the West wing." as far as he could recall, the West wing was closer to the gardens and thus to the grounds, plus, it would be easier to sneak out of the house when he was utterly alone and isolated.

"Yeah, not happening Harry. At the end of the hall, where I can keep a /good/ eye on you. Want a tour of the house?"

"I'd rather starve." he already was, having eaten nothing in almost a whole day. His last meal was last night's dinner, which ironically was one of the very few meals Harry hated. Beef stew.

Besides, he knew this house already, he recognized every nook and corner, the man was really just mocking him.

"Oh. You will soon. Hurry along then, the elves can take care of your trunk."

He stiffened. "No one is touching my things. No one."

"Touchy, aren't we? I believe that's one of your mother's traits. Puberty hit you well." the man appraised. Harry clenched his jaw, and itched to punch his face, or throw him off a rooftop. Several times in a row.

"Shut up. You...."

"You didn't ask me where she is yet." he sang.

Fuck it, Harry couldn't care about maintaining his temper anymore. "I don't give a rat's ass. You better leave me be like she is." he growled out while sneering, trying to contain the tears of humiliation and frustration mixed with his irrational rage.

"Leaving you seems like a bad idea at the time, even as we did when you were a child, it was too unethical and messy. And I for one, learnt my lesson. Anyways, she's going to retrieve your brother, quite charming he is, and smart too. Smarter than you by far."

"Am I supposed to feel insulted?" Harry tried to look affronted.

"Ohhh, also with a better attitude. Though that would be an unfair advantage, given that he wasn't burned to a crisp."

"I don't care, and I won't. Leave me be, Da... James." maybe the hitch in his voice was what gave him away.

James grinned. "Missing your Daddy, aren't you?"

As if talking to a dog, James crouched down to his height, hands on his knees as he drew a long line with his thumbs and index fingers. "I promise you this now Harry, by the end of this rope, I'm the one who wins. If I haven't already that is."

"You're delusional." he snapped.

"No, I'm just too clever." the man cluck his tongue.

"You are a twisted, repulsive, humane being. I'm the one who's ashamed of you."

James hummed. Obviously enjoying their ' playful ' banter. "Big words, from such a small body. I must say, I'm impressed. Snape taught you well. More than he should've taught you at the ice-cream Fortescue . "

He was referring to the accident almost eight years ago, when they hadn't left for France yet. That was the last time Harry had ever seen the Potters up close. That one time, he let go of his Daddy's hand and wandered off to the ice cream Fortescue.

The last time James had dared to terrorize him.

"He also taught me how to defend myself against wolves like you." he gulped, hands tightening their grip on his trunk.

"Hmm, I have seen quite bit of that... After all, playing with Remus has its own risks." just as the boy was about to struck back a chirping sound went off to their left and the floo flared. James beamed.

"Oh, Lily's back, are you coming with me to greet your mother?"

"I don't have a mother." he would not even think of the possibility of having a mother. Not now, not ever. Not even as a child.

To him, she was what a cat was to a slug. Meaningless.

Lily and his brother didn't come in, to greet them anyways and James and Harry were regardless left alone in the Hall. With Harry only catching a glimpse of red before they disappeared behind the stairs. "Shall we head to lunch then?"

Harry turned. "I'm not eating your food."

"You're subtly admitting that Snivelous had refused to feed you properly."

"Sod off."

"As you request Son. Go and unpack, we'll see how things turn out at Dinner then." it sounded like a teasing promise.

Xx

He couldn't believe he was admitting this, but he almost wished that Janet had been there with him, or the meal had been her cooking, he abhorred it right from the start and to the minute he was forced to seat down next to James, across from Lily and near a boy who he assumed was Aiden.

Whom, by the way, sat next to him like a stiff board, with short unruly Auburn hair and sharp hazel eyes. No glasses, quirked mouth, and a small mole by his upper lip. Aiden, for his part, mainly tried to pretend that Harry didn't exist. Harry was fine with that.

He was basically a stranger in the house despite being uncomfortably being familiar with the surrendering as well. He never ate with the rest of them before, and if he did get to eat at all, it was small left overs or scraps Lily couldn't throw in the garbage. In his cupboard. Always there.

He remembered the blood red curtains from his dreams, and the furniture were exactly as he had expected, the room was warm and well lit, it even had that comfy air about it. Harry hated it.

".... And he's such an idiot, sometimes I wonder if I'm the only one with a brain around in that department. "

"The only one?"

"Fine, second to last. You certainly know how to compliment yourself, don't you Lils?"

"That's why you married me." she winked and Harry felt like he wanted to puke.

They were just rolling with this, pretending that nothing had happened? As if Harry, the boy they abused and tortured all their lives wasn't sitting in the same room, eating the same fucking food he wasn't allowed to have just nine years ago. And /she/ dared to actually /flirt/ while knowing all this?

"How are you enjoying your evening Harry?" salting on the wound. That's what James was doing, and Harry could see, the man was enjoying /every/ second of it.

"Sod off."

"This kind of language is not tolerated in this house. Apologize immediately."

Harry bristled, his face and head going red. They didn't even /look/ at him. "I'm sorry that you're forced to endure my presence because you wished so."

Suddenly Aiden sent him a dark glare and mumbled under his lips. "You should apologize for your looks."

Harry wouldn't pretend and claim that he hadn't been offended, but feigned surprise anyways.

"Ah, you can talk now, can't you? Nice to meet you too, little bro."

"Don't talk to him." his mother snapped as the smaller boy shrank away in his seat.

"Why not? Am I not worthy? " his father would be so proud, Harry thought, knowing that Harry was screwing over these people and then his Dad himself was about to take his place in less than a few

"Just don't l.. Look at me." the other boy stuttered.

"It creeps you out? The way I look? Burnt flesh, no hair and blackened limbs? Or maybe it's the disfigured face? You know what? I don't care. Deal with it. It's not like I wanted to be here, either."

"Harold."

"Mom." Harry said in the same tone without turning to look at her. ' Mommy ' would've suited her better if it had been any other day.

The table was reduced in a terse silence. Heavy and thick as fog, toxic and Harry rejoiced every second of it. Everyone got back to their meal.

Out of sheer spite, he put his fork down and broke the awkward silence by pushing his chair back, picked the shiny silver utensils one by one, and set them to the other side of his plate, next to Aiden's plate, who still didn't dare too look him up in the eyes. The boy looked he could wet himself in fear.

The teen smirked. Good.

Harry eyed the chicken, and tore a piece by his hands, before munching on the piece with an open mouth. He scooped up some peas with his other hand and stuffed it in his mouth too, dipped his hand into the chocolate desert and licked each finger one by one.

"How did you know I liked chocolate so much, mom? "

Looking eye in eye with his mother. She glared back, her own spoon paused halfway between her plate and her gritting teeth.

When no one reacted further, Harry dropped his act and nearly lunged across the table to retrieve the Firewhisky bottle, the uncorked bottle spilled a little on his way, but Harry didn't care. He heard James stiffen a snort and wrinkled his eyes in rage.

He couldn't possibly be thinking about doing this. Dad would be so pissed. He couldn't just bottom up a full bottle of Firewhisky , and then expect to get out of here unscathed.

The man had leant back in his chair, arms crossed as if enjoying a show.

Harry shot that small part of his conscious. He brought the Firewhisky to his lips and titled the bottle, taking large mouthful gulps after gulps, loud noisy sips, the liquid dripping down his chin and jaw. The Firewhisky burned his throat, as if beating him into a new person with each greedy gulp.

He had never consumed Firewhisky before, had never even tasted it, never gotten drunk off anything, and here he was downing a whole bottle at once, not even knowing if it interfered with his potions or left him droopy, he just drank, like his life depended on it.

When the bottle was reaching to its end, it slipped out of his fingers and rolled under the table, leaving him feeling a little lightheaded. Harry couldn't quite care as his eyes roamed for the next victim.

Hands wouldn't do, he concluded, he would have to go feral. Out of sheer spite and sudden desperation, he leaned down and ate the chicken straight out of his plate, knowing that this would definitely get them to shout at him, or yell, or do...something apart from this shocked or amused silence.

"Boy!"

He dragged his stained, greasy fingers all over the white table cloth, knocked down Aiden's butterbeer, and reached across the table to grab the silver platter. Cold hands were suddenly on top of his, sharp blue painted nails dug in his skin and Harry was taken back to the reality as his own intense green eyes glared back at him.

"Stop this vile behavior this instant." she hissed.

"Do it." he dared. Hit me.

Her natural response would be a slap, maybe pinches that would leave bruises, maybe she would even go with scratching his face this time.

Her nails dug deeper and she snarled. "Go. To your room. Now."

Small hiccups escaped his mouth and he smiled involuntarily, feeling a tad lightheaded.

"Or what?"

Vaguely, he heard his brother scurrying off his seat with a loud yelp, rushing to stand near James. Harry sneered, remembering just how often that happened when they were children.

Running off to their parents for comfort. Out of fear. Fear of him.

"Do as your mother says Harry. Enough games for tonight." the man said in delightful amusement.

"You're doing this on purpose aren't you? Why don't you shout at me?" with a distasteful glare his mother turned and smiled at his brother. A reassuring smile, Harry rarely received from Dad. The tension built up farther in his chest.

"Aiden, honey, it's alright, you may leave the room." rushed footsteps faded from the scene.

She turned to her older son with a repulsed glare.

"You, stop acting like a deranged animal and get a hold of yourself, you're a Potter." she looked disgusted even touching his hands.

"We'll tame him in time."

"Now that you took me, I'm gonna make your lives into hell again." not him exactly, but he assumed his father could make up for the lost time.

"Barely. Contain yourself and go to your room." she withdrew her hands and savagely rubbed Harry's touch off with her napkin.

"My Cupboard? Do I even fit there anymore?"

"Boy..."

"Why did you take me back? What have I ever done to you? What do you want from me?!"

Her palms knocked down flat on the table with a loud thud."I said, stop this nonessential ranting this instant." Harry flinched, closing his eyes. The hitting would come now.

"Chill out Lily. If this is the worst he can do, let him unwind." James waved her off and Lily glared.

"He's scaring our son! Like a deranged...."

"Freak? You're looking for that word?" Harry snarled darkly.

"Well now you certainly look like one. Monstrous. That's what you are." she sniffed, turning her head away.

"I must be, if I'm stuck with you of all people." Harry sneered. Tears involuntarily brimmed in his eyes.

"Harry..."

He interrupted bluntly."What? Is that a warning? Is this the part I apologize and then you start beating the crap out of me? Or maybe that's after the verbal abuse?"

"I said stop! Or I swear I..."

"Yes?" he titled his head.

"Snape surely taught you some manners, didn't he?" she snapped instead.

"Don't you dare, talk about my father."

"The same who turned you into /this/? Is there any scandal worse than that?"

"I said shut up! Let me go, or I'll swear I make you sorry." he wasn't even supposed to say these things, but he couldn't stop his mouth from running off. His head felt hot.

"By eating food off the table, yes, we're terrified." James snorted sarcastically.

Harry then uttered the curse, he would never dare to bring on his lips ever again if he was sober; his dad would chop off his tongue and use it in a potion if he knew what Harry had just said.

Lily gasped, but James played it cool.

"Physical means isn't the only way I can contain you Harold. You remember my punishments, don't you? Just because we're being generous enough to over see your inconvenience doesn't mean we can't get you to do what we want.
"
"Sedation." Lily agreed.

"Sedate me?" he seethed. What right did they have to do that?

Well, that was a form of abuse. Right? Substance or drug.... Something. He couldn't recall now, he would ask Dad in a few hours though.
His eyes snapped wide.

Dad.

Dad was coming.

coming to switch places with him. He couldn't go through with the plan if he was sedated, he couldn't if he was asleep. Hesitantly, he drew back, sank back in his seat and stared at the ground with beseeching eyes.

"Go to your room." melancholy, he stood, ignored his balled up robe and strode out of the room while feeling tipsy.

Was a bottle enough to get someone drunk? Surely not... Or maybe it did. At any rate, Harry couldn't remember, and couldn't find it in himself to care, he had never gotten drunk before, so this... Feeling was new to him.

His head was buzzing, he knew that he was feeling enraged, in fact, he could feel himself shaking, but as if buried in a glass tomb, Harry could only see and not feel any urge to pursue any of those feelings.

"Dad's coming.". Harry just had to remember that. He needed to clear his head somehow, maybe retreat to his room or somewhere more relaxed and quiet.

Count.

He needed to count, yes. That's exactly what he needed, to set his mind on the plan and nothing else.

With a scowl, Harry hurried to his room in the dim lit halfway and pulled his door open, noting that his trunk has already been set next to his bed. He had set it there himself, hadn't he?

He must have drunken a little too much, for someone who had never consumed Firewhisky before.

He payed no attention to the room, or the decoration as he hastily kneeled in front of his trunk.

"Find the galleon," he muttered to himself, Dad had put two on him just in case, he was supposed to signal with them by tapping on the center twice to indicate that he was ready, once if he needed help, and none at all if the plan was somehow breached.

It took him ten minutes to realize that the Galleon was in his pocket and not in his trunk , hastily, he sighed in relief. Harry held the galleon to his chest for a moment, knowing that it was too soon for a signal, but childishly wanting to be with his father all the same.

By then his cheeks were awfully flushed and his head felt uncomfortably warm... So a bottle of Firewhisky could get /him/ drunk. And so quickly too, it was what? ten minutes since he bottomed up a whole bottle?

He vaguely had the urge to giggle at the utter ridiculousness of the situation, but pushed it aside.

"Ten thirty." he still had two hours to go and then he would use the signal... Shit, they hadn't /given/ him any time. The guards had came for him before they could get to that part of the plan... But surely it would've been after everyone was asleep.

Or was it?

With slurred mutterings and bleary eyes, he somehow managed to disrobe, and clumsily smear some balm on some parts of his face before collapsing on the bed the coin clutched to his chest.
Just two hours. He could run then and hide at the border to wait for his Dad and let them know he got out with the coin. Because he knew they would come the moment he signaled with the Galleon.

He could nap for two hours, and then, once that he made sure that everyone was asleep, he would sneak out from the back door, as he always used to do as a child. When he went by the window panes to play, hopefully this time without James almost beating him to death ...

His mind didn't carry on conscious thoughts anymore, as Harry's eyes drooped and his world gradually went black.