Search:

SIYE Time:7:22 on 29th March 2024
SIYE Login: no


Saving Harry
By The Seeker

- Text Size +

Category: Pre-OotP, Alternate Universe, Buried Gems
Characters:All
Genres: Angst, Drama, Romance
Warnings: Violence
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 1040
Summary: What if JKR had never intended the Harry Potter series to be for children? How would Harry’s time at the Dursleys been written? This story focuses on the years Harry lived in the cupboard under the stairs at number four Privet Drive, as well as his first appearance at Hogwarts. The treatment he receives during his decade there is not described in fairy tale terms. The boy who initially develops is not the Harry Potter we know. The story is liberally AU, with different personality traits, events, and relationships used to reflect the changes in this very different Harry and the environment in which he grew up. In the end, through the assistance of a certain redheaded young lady, Harry ultimately finds the life he should have had and rediscovers the qualities he always had inside of him. While I am not a psychologist or child development expert, the symptoms, actions, and behaviors portrayed reflect the realities of child abuse. Appropriate disclosures will be contained in the Author’s Notes above the chapter when warranted.
Hitcount: Story Total: 340153; Chapter Total: 23269
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
Thanks to all of you who took the time to leave a thoughtful review. They were taken into consideration in the writing of this chapter.

Thanks also to the readers who nominated the story in several categories for the November DSTA awards. They are much appreciated and somewhat startling since only one chapter had been posted.

cwarbeck, even more than usual, deserves special recognition for the work she's done, which goes well beyond the usual beta services. Thanks, cel! The same appreciation also is extended to MyGinevra for his excellent suggestions and insights. Thanks, Peter!




ChapterPrinter
StoryPrinter


Fifteen-month old Harry Potter stood, not too steadily, in the entry hall where that strange lady had left him, wondering where she had gone. He looked around in confusion, thinking this house wasn’t the one he woke up in all the other mornings of his life. A noise startled him, and he looked up to see a very large man lumbering down the stairs. The toddler started to walk towards the man, but he moved past the child as if he weren’t there. A puzzled look came over the boy’s face, and he wondered why the man hadn’t stopped to talk with him or pick him up.

“Ma!” he yelled. “Da!” And he toddled down the hall in the direction the big man had gone.

“Ma! Da!” The infant pushed his way into the kitchen and saw the big man sitting down.

“Ma! Da! Eat!”

“They’re dead, boy!” The big man yelled. “Dead! Gone! They’re never coming back. And we’re stuck with you. Go away and let me eat my breakfast in peace!”

The little boy flinched with each syllable that pummelled him. He couldn’t understand what the man was saying or why he was being shouted at. His stomach felt funny and was making growling noises. He saw an open doorway and walked into that room, so he could get away from the big man and search for his parents or anything that looked familiar.

“Ma! Da! Eat!”

“That’s it. I’ve had enough of your mouth.”

The big man abruptly got up from the table, pounded into the sitting room where Harry had gone, and picked him up, looped a beefy arm around the child’s waist, and marched into the hallway. Vernon Dursley walked towards the stairway that would take him to the spare bedroom, then stopped and looked back at the cupboard.

He needs to learn he’ll never be treated the same as Dudley. With a look of satisfaction, he opened the door to the cupboard under the stairs and unceremoniously dumped the shocked infant onto the mattress, slammed the door and locked it with a satisfied grunt.

“Maybe that’ll shut you up.”

In the few seconds before the door slammed closed behind him, Harry saw that the room was very small and not like any room he had been in before. In truth, it was unfinished, with a concrete floor and exposed wood studs. The underside of the stairs that went to the floor above was visible. Several spider webs and their inhabitants were to be found in the corners of the dank cupboard. Dust had accumulated everywhere, loosened through the years by the many trips the Dursleys had made up and down the stairs. A single light bulb dangled from an electrical cord toward the top of the enclosed space.

Harry squinted, trying to see in the unlit cupboard. His nose began to feel ticklish, finally ending in a series of sneezes. Once they stopped and his breathing returned to normal, thought after thought raced through his young mind.

Why had he been placed in this dark, little room?

Where were his ma and da?

Why was he in this strange house, and who were these people who yelled at him?


Finally, frightened and exhausted, he lay down on the mattress and fell asleep.

Not much later, light flooding into the cupboard woke him, when the strange lady opened the door. Harry immediately squeezed his eyes closed to keep the light from hurting them.

“Come on out, Harry.”

The boy looked at her curiously and walked into the hallway, blinking rapidly to get used to the light. The big man stood at the doorway, an irritated look on his face.

“We’ll talk about him when I get back from work tonight.”

The woman nodded and walked down the short hallway, as her husband departed for work. Harry followed her into the kitchen and saw a chubby blond-haired boy standing by a table. The woman stopped and looked between the two boys and the table.

Dudley needs to use the high chair, but Harry won’t be able to reach the table if he sits on a regular chair. It would be too dangerous to have him sit on phone books. She looked around a few more seconds then nodded her head.

“You can eat here.”

She pointed at the floor in front of the kitchen sink and laid out a large towel. Once Harry was sitting down, she placed a plastic plate with a handful of dry cereal and fruit in front of him.

“Go ahead and eat, Harry.”

Then, she picked up her son, Dudley, placed him in the high chair, and brought over the warm cereal she’d just made. While Harry ate, the woman sat by the other boy and cooed at him in a soft, sing-song voice. Occasionally, she would rub his shoulder or pat his arm. Once breakfast was finished, she brought out several pieces of paper and a large box of crayons, giving most of the paper and all but four of the crayons to her son.

“Here you are, Duddikins. Draw anything you want.”

She walked over to her nephew. “I guess you know what crayons and drawing are.” With a shrug, she put the lone piece of paper on the towel and handed the few crayons to the boy. “Colour only on the paper,” she said, pointing at the paper she had just put down.

Harry smiled and started drawing on the sheet, as the woman began cleaning up the kitchen. When she was done, she walked over to her son to see what he had drawn.

Oh, my, she thought.

Petunia stared at Dudley’s drawing — if it could be called that. It consisted primarily of thick slashes across the paper, mostly in black, with a little bit of purple mixed in. His mother stared at the sheet, trying to figure out what her son had drawn but couldn’t come up with anything it remotely resembled.

She picked up the piece of paper and put another one in front of her son. “Dudley, this is wonderful. Now, try to draw the ball.” She pointed to it and handed a sky blue crayon to him.

Walking over to Harry, her eyebrows flew up her forehead. I should have known. Both Lily and James were so creative. Her breath caught in her chest, as she looked at a colourful picture of a broom, with three stick figures standing by it. The much smaller figure had black hair like the tallest figure, and the other had long red hair. Tears flooded unbidden into her eyes. Oh, Lils.

She turned the piece of paper over. “Draw something else, Harry.” He looked up and smiled, and Petunia started cleaning the already clean kitchen counters.

Several minutes later, she glanced at Harry’s drawing and gasped. It looked to be a picture of his first birthday — a celebration they had received an invitation to but ignored. The drawing showed several boxes, which she assumed were the presents, with lots of stick people around them, some small, others larger. Blinking rapidly, Petunia picked up the paper.

“Boys, let’s go into the backyard and play.”

She walked over to her son and picked up his two drawings — the second featured lines like mountain peaks; a few were in sky blue, but the majority were again in black. The crayon was lying to the side of the paper, broken in half. Petunia put the two drawings and Harry’s pictures on the kitchen counter.

Even though it was mild for early November, she bundled the boys up. The sleeves on Harry’s hand-me-down sweatshirt had to be rolled up numerous times so his hands wouldn’t be covered, and it reached down to the middle of his thighs. Likewise, the legs of the jeans he wore were folded several times, so they wouldn’t extend beyond his feet. Petunia grabbed the ball that was lying on the dining area floor and escorted the boys into the backyard.

Harry started running around, while Dudley marched over to the ball and kicked it as hard as he could. Harry saw the ball rolling in his direction, so he moved over to it, while the bigger boy stalked the ball.

As Harry neared the ball, Dudley yelled, “No!” and Harry’s head jerked up, a surprised expression on his face, but after a few puzzled seconds, he kicked the ball anyway and continued running, laughing as he chased after it. Dudley lumbered after Harry, then quickly gave up and walked toward the ball again.

Petunia watched the activities closely, a gnawing feeling growing in her stomach. She sat down on a bench as memories flooded through her.

*****


Mrs Evans opened the door and the usually kind woman stared at the person standing on their front porch. The stern-looking, rather elderly stranger wore an outfit that was more appropriate for a Halloween party. Fourteen-year old Petunia peered around her mother, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open.

The stranger spoke first, since Petunia’s mum seemed to be tongue-tied. “I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress with a special school that your daughter, Lily, qualifies for. If she’s home, I would like to take a few minutes of your time to explain about the school and why Lily qualifies.”

Even Petunia could feel the commanding aura surrounding the visitor, and her mum let the woman into the house. Petunia ran upstairs and brought Lily down. Fifteen minutes later, the three Evans females sat in stunned silence.

They had a witch in the family.

Each had an entirely different reaction.

Mrs Evans smiled. “This is a bit shocking, isn’t it?” Her expression turned thoughtful. “So, Lily will learn all sorts of useful spells that can be used around the house and for everyday life.”

Professor McGonagall nodded. “That is right.”

Lily’s emerald eyes sparkled. “That explains all the things I did that I didn’t know how I did them.”

The professor smiled. “Most magical children do what we call ‘accidental magic.’ Since no other members of your family are magical, you had no way of knowing what you were doing. Just so you know, magical children coming from non-magical families are called Muggleborns in our world. You also should know the ability to do magic is not adversely affected by being Muggleborn.”

Petunia felt alone again, left behind by her brilliant younger sister. “Why aren’t I a witch?” she spat out.

The professor answered softly. “We don’t know why some children in Muggle families are magical and others aren’t. We do know somewhere in the family history there was a wizard or witch, and the gene was passed through the generations. Why a specific child gets that gene and another doesn’t is just luck, I presume. What I can tell you is that we have a register that automatically records the birth of all magical children. That’s why we knew of Lily.”

“And why you knew that
I’m not like her.” Petunia abruptly stood up, glared at her mum, her sister, and the visitor, and then raced out of the room and up the stairs. A few seconds later, they heard the sound of a door being slammed shut.

From that day forward, the jealousy Petunia had held back for many years was finally allowed to surface, until it came to dominate how she felt about her sister. Each summer, Lily would return from Hogwarts with amazing stories, and her once close relationship with Petunia would slip further away.

When Lily brought James Potter home to meet her parents, the relationship with Petunia was severed forevermore. Petunia was engaged to the much-disliked Vernon Dursley. When her older sister saw the handsome, personable, funny, and very magical James Potter, all of Vernon’s faults seemed to magnify in Petunia’s eyes. Simply put, James was everything Vernon wasn’t and yet another example of how superior her sister was to her.

Petunia vowed to cut Lily, James, and magic out of her life. She never spoke to her sister again.


*****


“You hoo! Mrs Dursley?”

Petunia shook her head to stop the memory she had revisited. She looked up to see her next door neighbour peering over the fence, a curious glint in the woman’s eyes.

“Hello, Mrs Nostrom.” Petunia forced a smile onto her face and walked over to the fence the two backyards shared.

“Are we babysitting today?” Mrs Nostrom asked, with an arched eyebrow and a probing glance at Harry, who was still cheerily running after the ball while Dudley sat on his fat bottom and sulked.

“No.” Petunia hesitated, not knowing how much to tell her gossipy neighbour about Harry. “We will be taking care of the young boy. It’s a long, boring story; nothing you’d be interested in.”

She quickly turned towards the boys. “Time to go inside.”

As soon as the words were uttered, Petunia saw Harry raise his hand and the ball that sat three or four meters from him began rolling towards the small boy.

“Come on, boys. Quickly now.”

She turned to say goodbye to Mrs Nostrom, only to be greeted with a wide-eyed, open-mouthed, incredulous look on the woman’s face.

“I better get the boys inside. Getting chilly. Talk with you soon.” Petunia said nervously, and then she literally grabbed both boys by the shoulders and marched them as quickly as she could back inside the house.

As soon as she was beyond the prying eyes of her neighbour, Petunia set Dudley and Harry down on the dining area floor and sank heavily into one of the chairs.

She must have seen Harry do that. Her eyes looked like they were going to pop out of her head. Petunia sat and thought through the alternatives available to her. I’ll just laugh and deny seeing anything like that. Who would believe that a child could make a ball roll to him without touching it?

Harry’s uses his magic without even thinking about it. Of course, he grew up with magic all around him. We can’t let him do that here. But how do we teach someone his age not to do what he’s done all his life? Vernon hates anything different. God, this is going to be horrible.


A frustrated cry brought Petunia back from her thoughts. She searched for Dudley and found him standing by the kitchen counter, trying to reach a piece of fruit Harry hadn’t eaten from earlier.

“Mine!” he cried.

His mother retrieved the sliver of banana and gave it to her ever-growing son.

“More!”

Petunia immediately cut up another banana, picked up her son, and carried him and the snack to the table. From there, she could see Harry sitting on the floor in the next room, reading one of Dudley’s picture books. Instead of flipping quickly through the pages, her nephew concentrated on each one, his small fingers tracing the bright images.

I’m sure Lily read to him every night. Her sarcastic tone shocked her. I can’t think that way. He’s only a child and doesn’t know what happened between us. She looked at her sister’s son, and then turned back and watched her son wolf down the banana slices. It can’t be happening again.

As soon as Dudley finished his snack, his mother lugged him upstairs for a nap. The boy swatted at the colourful mobile that was attached to the side of the crib, as his mother gently placed him on the mattress. Petunia rubbed his back and ran her fingers through his wavy blond hair, until the boy feel asleep.

Returning to the sitting room, she said, “Harry, time for your nap.”

The toddler got up and headed for the stairs.

His bedroom must have been upstairs. Petunia shivered, even though the temperature in the house was comfortable. I don’t even know what their house looked like.

“In here, Harry.” She walked over to the cupboard and opened the door.

The boy looked up the stairs again, before returning his eyes to her. Finally, he walked over to the cupboard and lay down on the mattress. After his outdoor activities, Harry quickly fell asleep

*****


Seve ral hours later, Harry woke up and looked around, uncertain where he was. The door to the little room was open, so he got up and followed the sound of voices into the kitchen.

He stood in the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and trying to process where he was.

“Ma? Da?” He looked around the kitchen and dining areas for their familiar faces.

Petunia’s head jerked up. Sadness and frustration fought for dominance on her face. They’re gone, Harry. You’ll never see them again. But I’ll be reminded of Lily and James every time I look at you, with his face and her eyes. She shook her head. He’s a child; he’s blameless.

“Let’s get you some lunch, Harry.”

She ruffled her son’s hair as she rose from the dining table, where Dudley continued to eat his cut-up sandwich and crisps. Quickly, she assembled a small jam sandwich and put it on a plastic plate, half filled a cup with water, and placed them on a towel in front of the kitchen counter.

Harry looked at the food, then the woman, and finally sat on the floor and started eating, as the strange woman watched him. In a few minutes, he had finished everything, save for the crusts on the cut up pieces of bread. As soon as he put a piece in his mouth, he took it out again and stared at it. With a wave of his hand, Harry Vanished all of the crusts.

“No!” his aunt admonished. She hurried over to him, knelt down, and put her hands on his shoulders. “You can’t do that. No magic!”

Harry furrowed his forehead. “No?”

His aunt tried to calm herself. Taking a deep breath, she said, “We don’t do magic here. You can’t do things like that anymore.”

The boy stared blankly at her.

He doesn’t understand what I’m saying. He probably doesn’t even know it’s magic and that most people don’t know it exists. This is impossible. How are we ever going to raise him?

She retrieved the picture book Harry had been reading earlier and handed it to the boy.

“Read your book, Harry.”

Several times during the day, his aunt watched Harry wander around the house, as if he had misplaced something important and wanted to find it again. Sometimes he would just stand in the middle of a room and look around in confusion, like he was lost.

She could sense that nothing felt familiar and comfortable for her nephew. Nothing — the rooms, the furnishings, and especially the people — was what he knew. He finally returned to the kitchen and resumed reading the book she had given him.

He’s so confused. He has no idea what happened and how permanent the changes are. Why can’t I feel more kindly and protective towards him? He didn’t cause any of this. He had nothing to do with his parents’ deaths or the decision to be left with us. Why do I resent him so much?

*****


Harry lay on the thin mattress, rubbing his stomach, and wondering where his parents were. He closed his eyes and saw his red-haired mum standing next to his smiling dad. They were in the sitting room, in front of the blazing fireplace, which cast an almost golden glow over the room. The boy fell asleep, with the image of his ma picking him up and holding him close to her.

“We’re so sorry, Harry.”

The boy was sitting on the floor. A very faint light surrounded him, leaving the rest of the room in darkness. He was looking at a woman, who stood several meters from him. She appeared to be grey and shadowy, as if she weren’t all there. Tears moved down her face.

A tall man joined her. He, too, was grey, even his face and hands. He looked mad, and the boy backed away from him. The infant didn’t know who these people were, since their faces weren’t clear.

“I can’t believe Albus placed our son with the Dursleys.”

“James, you know there’s nothing we can do. Albus did what he thought was best for Harry. You know he places great faith in old magic, and the blood protection ward he created from my action is one of the oldest forms.”

“I know, but I still don’t like this, Lils. This is so hard. Merlin, I wish I could hug him.”

“James, think of poor Harry. He doesn’t understand what happened or that we’ll never be part of his life again, and he won’t have magic like before.”

James flared up again. “That’s why I don’t agree with Albus’ decision. He should have let Harry stay with Sirius, Remus, the Longbottoms, or the Weasleys, not these magic-hating Muggles.”

“It’s done, James. We can’t do anything about it anymore. We need to talk with Harry. There are only a few minutes before we have to leave him.”

Lily and James tried to reassure their son with soft, encouraging words, but they knew he had no idea who they were, since their faces and bodies were obscured. All too quickly, their time was over.

“Goodbye, Harry. We’ll always be watching over you.” The tears flowed down Lily’s cheeks.

“We love you, son.” James could barely choke out the words.

Seconds later they both disappeared from the boy’s dream, but he continued to sleep.


*****


While the boys slept that evening, Vernon and Petunia Dursley discussed what to do with their unwelcome visitor. Petunia handed several pieces of paper to her husband.

He glanced at them. “So?”

“Dudley drew two; Harry the other two.”

The large man looked more closely this time. “Dudley’s are these scribbles? Shite! It’s happening again. We cannot have that boy make Dudley look bad.”

Petunia nodded her head, while her husband’s face took on an unusually thoughtful expression.

*****



“Everything would be a whole lot better if you would be more like him,” the large man snarled at the eight-year old boy.

“I’ll try. I - I really w - will,” the boy promised. “I’m s - sorry I can’t do b - better.” The boy fought his increasing embarrassment, as well as the tears that were threatening to spill.

The man laughed sarcastically. “You might as well get used to it. You’ll never be as good as he is at anything. And do something about that stuttering. It irritates the hell out of me.” The man smacked the back of the younger boy’s head. “Maybe that’ll help.”

The bigger boy joined the man’s laughter. “Forget it, Vernon. You’ll never amount to anything. Look at you. You’re fat and ugly.”

Neither could be said of the eleven-year old boy, who was taunting his younger brother. Darian Dursley was the pride of his parents, especially his dad. He was good-looking while Vernon was not, tall for his age, with an athlete’s lithe physique. He had enough intelligence to do well in school and to know just how far to go when he ventured from being a model student, making sure his friends took the blame and not him. His attitude was just this side of cocky, because he knew he’d somehow lucked out in the gene lottery. That attitude charmed adults and most kids his age. But he looked down in disgust at his younger brother, who was overweight, not athletic, and not very bright. To Darian, his brother Vernon was an embarrassment that somehow detracted from his own golden image.


*****


Vernon spoke forcefully to his wife, “I wouldn’t be the man I am today, if my father hadn’t disciplined me when I was growing up. If I acted up, I’d be punished, sometimes with his belt. My father wanted high achievers and wouldn’t settle for anything less. Darian,” Petunia raised her nose in disgust, “was the achiever when we were younger. I wasn’t, so my father beat it into me. We need to do the same with the Potter boy to make sure he behaves the way we want him to.”

The large man continued talking. “I can’t imagine what those weirdoes were thinking of, leaving him with us. It’s damn expensive feeding and clothing a boy. I want people to look at Potter like he’s a tramp, so he’ll get Dudley’s discards. I’m not going to have Dudley feel second best to anyone, especially Potter, and I’m not going to spend a penny on him.”

Petunia Dursley certainly knew about feeling second best. Even though she was three years older than Lily, her sister had surpassed her in every way possible. Lily was much prettier, with her thick, auburn hair, compared to Petunia’s thin, mousy brown. Lily was trim and athletic, while Petunia had a horsy look and an angular figure. Lily did much better at school and was always popular with her classmates. Petunia felt like an outsider most of the time.

And, of course, Lily was magical, like her son.

Petunia stared fiercely at her husband. “There is no way our Dudley will ever be second best to another Potter.”

Vernon knew his wife’s feelings. “We’re agreed, then. Potter gets nothing from us.”

After a minute’s thought, Petunia said, “We shouldn’t take the boy anywhere we go. He’ll attract attention with that horrible scar, and there’s too much risk of him doing something . . . unnatural.”

Vernon smiled. “Good idea. The fewer people that see him, the better.”

*****


Th e next morning, Harry woke up, wondering why he was in a dark, little room, instead of his usual bedroom. As soon as he heard sounds outside his cupboard, he cried out loudly, while his stomach growled from hunger.

Harry heard a big clumping noise come down the stairs above him, along with more dust, then footsteps coming toward his room.

“Shut up, boy! Stop your squalling.”

The boy winced when the man banged on his door and stalked down the hall. Then, he remembered that he was in this other house with these strange people and the big boy.

Where are ma and da? he wondered.

Sometime later, the big man left, and his door was opened. “Well, come on out,” the woman said.

Harry blinked to offset the brightness of the light, and then followed the woman into the kitchen, watching as she prepared breakfast for the other boy and him.

Petunia looked at her nephew. I’m sorry, Harry, but we can’t have you outshining Dudley. I couldn’t live through that again. I won’t hurt you, but I have to make sure you don’t do any magic or anything else creative. She closed her eyes. I’m so sorry, Lily.

“Time to eat.”

She sat Dudley at the table and set a plate of pancakes, with lots of sugar sprinkled on top, in front of him. “Eat up, Duddikins.” She pecked him on the cheek and squeezed his shoulder.

Harry was sitting on his towel on the floor, looking expectantly at the woman. She placed a plate with sugar-coated dry cereal in front of him, along with a cup of water. Petunia opened her mouth, then closed it and turned away.

The two toddlers quickly finished their breakfast. The woman cleaned up the mess her son had created, pulled him out of the high chair, kissed him on the cheek, and put him on the ground. Moving into the kitchen, she collected Harry’s plate and cup, placed them and Dudley’s dishes into the dishwasher, and shook the crumbs from the towel into the sink. She felt a tug on the hem of her dress and looked down to see Harry gazing at her, with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Fly! Broom!”

He tried to summon his broom several times but nothing happened. He looked around for his parents, wondering why his broom wasn’t coming to him and where his parents were. He looked at the woman again.

His aunt frantically looked around, as if there were people in the house, other than her son and nephew.

“Harry, hush. Don’t say that.” The skinny lady pleaded.

“Fly! Broom!” Harry started running around, looking for his broom, but he didn’t see anything familiar.

“Stop it!” the woman said sharply. “Stop talking like that.”

Harry cringed at the words being thrown at him and the woman’s upset expression. She hurried over to the young boy and snatched him up.

“You can’t talk like that,” she whispered and put him back into the cupboard, locking the door behind him. You can’t do magic anymore, Harry. We can’t allow that to happen.

“Broom?” the boy asked, wondering where it was and why the lady was so upset.

Tears ran down the boy’s face, as he reached for his blanket and lay down again. His energy had faded and so had his smile. Soon, he fell asleep.

*****


Sev eral days later, Petunia was out front, watering her rose bushes. Her snooty neighbour from across the street, Mrs Fabersham, came over.

“How are you today, Petunia? How is that new boy of yours doing?”

Petunia tried to smile at the woman. “I’m doing fine. How about you?”

The neighbour’s supercilious smile remained. “Doing well, thank you.” She lowered her voice. “You know there are rumours about your new boy, don’t you? That he’s different.” She arched an eyebrow.

Petunia swallowed her gasp and forced a smile. “Oh, yes. He is small for his age. We’re sure he’ll grow out of it eventually.” Turning off the water, she added, “Have to get inside and make lunch. So nice talking with you.”

Once she was inside the house, she noticed Harry was reading a picture book in the sitting room, where he could be seen from the street.

“Come back here, Harry.” The boy looked up, and she gestured toward the kitchen area, where he couldn’t be seen. A puzzled look crossed the boy’s face, but he got up and toddled into the kitchen as requested.

Later that night, after the boys had been put to bed, Vernon and Petunia sat down at the dining room table.

Petunia looked nonplussed. “Mrs Fabersham came over today when I was out front. She wanted to make the point that the neighbours think Harry is different.”

Vernon’s eyes widened. “What did you say?”

“I just commented that he is small for his age. But I know she was referring to Mrs Nostrom next door seeing Harry do magic in the backyard.”

“We can’t let people see him do that stuff. I don’t even want to think of the questions and inquiries that would result. We’d be forced to move.” He turned a beady eye to his wife. “Petunia, I won’t have that happen to us. Do you understand?”

His wife nodded her head. “Talking to the boy isn’t working.”

“Then you’ll have to get his attention in other ways.”

Petunia nodded her head again.

Magic is so natural to Harry he doesn’t even know he’s doing anything. No wonder he doesn’t understand when I tell him to stop. I don’t want to punish him, but Vernon is getting more upset. I know he blames me for this.

As the weeks went by, Harry’s magic became increasingly disturbing to the Dursleys. The family was sitting at the dinner table. Harry, as usual, was on his towel in the kitchen, where the two adults could watch him. He made a face and Vanished some stale crackers that tasted funny.

“Boy! You can’t do that here,” bellowed his uncle. The boy’s body trembled, and he blinked rapidly.

The big man quickly walked around the table and shook the small boy by the shoulders, and then shoved him into the dark cupboard.

Returning to the table, Vernon Dursley lectured his wife. “We can’t allow his unnaturalness to continue.”

Aunt Petunia closed her eyes. “If we punish him every time he uses,” she hesitated, “well, you know what, maybe he’ll stop doing those things. After a while, he could forget about it. I thought I could stop it by scolding and putting him in the cupboard, but that hasn’t worked.”

“You have to get his attention, and the only way to do that is to hit the boy like I was when I was his age. You’ll watch for those freakish things during the day?” Petunia nodded her head. “I won’t tolerate anymore of this, Petunia. You’ve got to stop him.”

Vernon glared at his wife. “If any of this came out — him being a freak and you a sister of one — I would be run out of Grunnings. You don’t know what it’s like down there. The managers above me always try to take credit for what I’ve done, and the ponces below are constantly trying to go around me. It’s an effing jungle, and they would tear me apart if any of this became known.”

She stared at her husband, knowing exactly what he was implying. It’s Harry or me. Vernon won’t allow the magic to continue. If I can’t stop it, Vernon will dump me.

“I know,” she answered. “I don’t want that weirdness in my house, like I had with my sister. As far as I’m concerned, he won’t even know he can do those things, after I’m through with him. And we won’t tell him anything about his parents, so he won’t know his . . . abilities.”

Forgive me, Lily.
Reviews 1040
ChapterPrinter
StoryPrinter




../back
‘! Go To Top ‘!

Sink Into Your Eyes is hosted by Grey Media Internet Services. HARRY POTTER, characters, names and related characters are trademarks of Warner Bros. TM & © 2001-2006. Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions on this site are those made by the owners. All stories(fanfiction) are owned by the author and are subject to copyright law under transformative use. Authors on this site take no compensation for their works. This site © 2003-2006 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Special thanks to: Aredhel, Kaz, Michelle, and Jeco for all the hard work on SIYE 1.0 and to Marta for the wonderful artwork.
Featured Artwork © 2003-2006 by Yethro.
Design and code © 2006 by SteveD3(AdminQ)
Additional coding © 2008 by melkior and Bear