Chapter Text
Harry felt hurt and was confused about feeling hurt. He felt hollowed out, raw and unsteady, and had to press his lips together to stop it from trembling. Perhaps he was trembling all over. He didn’t know. He didn’t know why he was feeling this way and he hated not knowing.
The brief handover, where Lily and James hadn’t even deigned to say goodbye, left him feeling cast aside and discarded all over again. Only Charlie gave him a parting smile and a wave before shuffling after his parents.
As Harry looked out the window to see the Potters leave without a backward glance, the truth struck him with brutal clarity: they truly did not care about him. Not in the way a parent should. Not in the way family should. All the harsh words Aunt Petunia had spoken about them, all those times Harry thought that surely, they had to be missing some crucial information…All of that now rang true.
The realisation, which in hindsight was so obvious, stung and Harry hated that he could feel his eyes prickling.
Which he really didn’t understand. He had never known the Potters. Not really. He’d never seen them before today, except the photos of Lily that Aunt Petunia had shown him. He had his aunt, uncle and cousin. He had their love and support. He had a family, so why did he care about his parents’ lack of concern for him? Why did he care when they clearly didn’t care for him?
Harry felt a hand heavy on his shoulder and turned to see Uncle Vernon looking at him with an angry flush still painting his cheeks and concerned eyes. All the fragile self-control Harry had been clinging to shattered like spun sugar and his vision blurred as tears flooded his eyes.
Before he could stop himself, he felt the first tears spill over and the hand pulled him in as it had so many times before. Harry gladly moved forward, burying his head in Uncle Vernon’s stomach as he futilely fought to stifle his sobs.
His uncle’s grip tightened around him, as solid and steady as ever. Harry felt so safe and loved being ensconced in these familiar arms, in a way he never had in the Potters’ presence, that he finally broke down crying.
Vernon was pained to see the boy he had come to regard almost like a second son in such anguish. His own childhood had been harsh and unforgiving. His father, a strict military man, had been rigid and unkind. The cruel discipline and lack of affection left their scars on his body and mind, and had shaped Vernon’s own approach to parenting. In response, he had taken to indulging Dudley and, to a lesser extent, Harry. It was Petunia who took on the role of enforcing discipline while Vernon had always leaned towards spoiling the children.
Seeing Harry’s pain brought back memories of his own difficult childhood, of his own strict father and his distant mother, and it hurt him deeply.
“There, there, kiddo,” Vernon said, his voice soft, though his usual gruffness still lingered at the edges. “It’s not you, alright? It’s them. It’s their loss, not yours.”
Harry shook his head against Vernon’s shirt. “But…even when I have magic…they don’t care about me at all.”
“Because they’re fools, that’s why,” Vernon replied sharply. Ignoring the growing wet patch on his shirt with long practice, he pulled the boy down to sit with him on the couch. Vernon wasn’t getting any younger and he really didn’t want to deal with a sore back bending down like this on top of everything else today. “They don’t know what they’re losing. They don’t deserve you at all. And you don’t need such people dragging you down in your life.”
Harry sniffled, still tightly clutching at Vernon’s shirt as they sat down before burrowing into Vernon’s side. “I… I thought they’d be different. I don’t know why. Aunt Petunia described them perfectly…But…I thought maybe...”
Vernon let out a long, exasperated breath, rubbing slow circles on Harry’s back. “Sometimes… Sometimes people just aren’t what you hope they will be. Doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you. If they can’t see what a good lad you are, that’s on them.”
Harry pulled back slightly, looking up at Vernon with tear-streaked cheeks and wide puffy eyes. “Do you really mean that?”
“‘Course I do,” Vernon said gruffly, his moustache twitching as he tried to hold back the emotion in his voice. He smoothed a hand down the back of the child’s head a few times, knowing it would soothe him. “Look, you’ve got us, haven’t you? Me, Petunia, Dudley? We’re your family, Harry, and you are a part of ours. We care about you. Take strength from that.”
“Thanks, Uncle Vernon,” Harry said, his voice small and hoarse from crying.
Vernon gave him a firm pat on the shoulder, clearing his throat. “No more tears today, alright? It’s your birthday and those fools have gone and made you cry. Forget about them and look forward to living your life well. And if they ever come sniffing around here again, I’ll give them a piece of my mind, see if I don’t. Maybe I’ll even bust out my hunting gun.”
Harry gave his uncle a watery smile. “Careful. They’d get utterly terrified.”
“As they should be,” Vernon huffed with a smile, ruffling Harry’s hair. “Now, come on. Let’s get you something sweet, eh? Dudley’s probably eaten half the ice cream tub by now. Did they at least buy you lunch while you were out?”
Incensed to find that Lily hadn’t even bothered to feed him, Petunia plied him with delicious macaroni cheese, roasted veg and Harry’s favourite, treacle pudding. She even let the boys push away their greens without much scolding.
Everyone in the Dursley household silently agreed to give Harry some time to process his emotions before they confronted him about his trip to the magical world. They had long ago learned to avoid confrontation with Harry when he was in one of his moods. The boy was the kindest and softest of souls until he felt cornered. Then he would blow up like a volcano, exploding with so much anger from his tiny body. So, they gave him space, knowing that it would be a while before the storm of emotions would pass.
In the meantime, there really wasn’t much time to prepare for a party and no one was in the mood for one, so they went to catch a movie in the cinema - Petunia had to insist on the perfectly sensible Robin Hood movie rather than the latest Rocky movie all three of them were eyeing, only reaching a consensus when she promised they would all watch the new Terminator movie within the 1st week of its release. Boys.
That evening, as Petunia prepared dinner and Vernon cut the veggies up for her, Harry’s sadness finally turned to anger when she brought up his trip with Lily and James. “They’re such awful people! After dumping me here, they come to see me after 10 years, see the state of my clothes, see the bruises on my skin and do nothing!” Harry then paused before giving his brother some grace. “Charlie might have not realised what exactly it meant, though. He seemed very…sheltered. Nice, but definitely sheltered.”
Petunia hummed as she stirred the stew, mentally making a note (should she encourage Harry’s curiosity in the Potter child or snip it in the bud?), but before she could reply, Harry continued, pacing around the dining table like an angry cat. “They left me here with you thinking you were being mean to me! Aunt Petunia’s right about everything she said. They’re selfish and heartless and…and mean! They thought I was miserable here, but they didn’t care. They just walked away and left me behind without a second thought!”
“Well, to be fair, they did offer to pay more, hoping to bribe us to ‘treat’ you better,” Vernon commented, too busy cutting the carrots that he didn’t immediately notice when the rest of them stopped what they were doing to stare at him. “What? That means they’re either feeling guilty or they want to keep your ‘ill-treatment’ quiet. Or both. Possibly both.”
Dudley shook his head as he set the table. “What does it matter, anyway? They thought he was being hurt and they still left him here. Does it really matter what they wanted when the right thing to do would have been to take him away?”
Freezing at his own words, Dudley and Harry blanched in realisation before looking at Petunia and Vernon fearfully. “You did know they wouldn’t take Harry away, right?”
“Of course I knew, Duddikins. I wouldn’t have initiated this plan if I did not,” Petunia dismissed their concern with more confidence than she felt and turned her back to the rest of them, missing the face Dudley made at the nickname, partly to season the stew but mostly to hide her small vicious smile.
She shouldn’t, she really shouldn’t, but Petunia couldn’t help but feel gleeful that Lily’s son was finally seeing her for who she really is. Everyone always thought Lily was so great and always dismissed Petunia without another glance, their parents included. That Lily’s son had chosen her over his own mother. Over precious, perfect Lily. Oh, she could have done a little jig if she was alone right now.
Petunia and Vernon had been really worried that Harry would get charmed by all the magic and by their riches and fame, and that he would go to them of his own accord. She hadn’t exactly lied when she told him that they had never checked up on him, by letter or in person, or that they had left him behind while they enjoyed their riches and fame. But, well, she might have been a tad… overzealous …in her descriptions of Lily’s and James Potter’s motivations. So, it was surprising that Harry still held hopes for the Potters.
Petunia did feel for the boy, she wasn’t a monster, but she would be lying if she said she was sad at the manner in which they did the bare minimum for Harry. It meant that Petunia was the better mother, the better person. And that spiel about blood wards and Harry’s presence protecting them would have been more convincing if Lily had bothered to master the art of lying after all these years.
No, whatever it was, it had nothing to do with theirs or Harry’s safety.
Vernon, while sympathetic to the poor boy’s plight, remained silent, as did Dudley, who was more interested in the snacks he was bringing out to the table than Harry’s outburst, even if he knew better than to stuff his face when Harry was pouring his heart out.
“They think I’m just some inconvenience to be discarded.” Harry raged on, “How can they be so cruel? How can they just leave their own child without a care in the world? They never even bothered to see if I was alright!”
The Dursley parents exchanged loaded glances but said nothing.
“Why do you care when they don’t?” Harry asked, his face twisted in both anger and pain. “I’m the one they left behind and they don’t even care if I’m okay. So why should you? Why should anyone care about me when my own parents can’t be bothered? It doesn’t make any sense at all!”
“Doesn’t it?” Petunia placed the ladle down with more force than necessary to stare down at the tearful boy. It enraged her to no end that after she and Vernon ensured so many peaceful, happy birthdays for the boys, Lily and her ilk made Harry cry so much on his birthday.
“Their failure to love you isn’t a reflection of your worth, it’s a reflection of theirs. You’re not unwanted, Harry. You’re just unwanted by them. But the world’s bigger than their tiny hearts.”
“You listen to me, boy” she said, coming closer, wiping her hands on her apron aggressively as though to rid herself of the spiking anger she felt. “You’re worth more than their neglect, more than their arrogance, more than anything they give you. They don’t get to decide what you’re worth. They can’t, because they never even bothered to know you. You’ve got a sharp mind, sharper than many grown men I know. You’re kind when you don’t have to be. And you’ve got grit, more than anyone your age should ever need. If they can’t see that, then they’re blind fools, plain and simple”
Harry’s lower lip wobbled and he started sniffling. “But it still hurts.”
“Of course it does,” Petunia replied curtly, her own eyes damp in a way she would never admit. “That pain is proof that you care more than they ever did. But that's not a weakness. Don’t you dare let it convince you you’re worthless. You hear me? You’ll never be worthless.”
With another sniffle, Harry launched himself at his aunt and buried his face against her middle, hugging her tight. She has always been a bit tetchy about physical affection with him, but she never pushed him away when he needed the comfort. As he expected, her one hand cupped his head tenderly while the other rubbed soothing circles on his back. Uncle Vernon’s heavy tread sounded behind them, and after a moment, he bent down and wrapped his arms around both of them.
“Oi, don’t leave me out,” Dudley called out, and before anyone could stop him, he threw his own solid weight into the huddle. The whole family swayed under the force of it, and Aunt Petunia let out a startled huff, but she didn’t pull away.
Harry clung tighter to them all, feeling so full of warmth and happiness that he thought he might burst from it.
Aunt Petunia was the first to extricate herself, gently but firmly peeling Harry’s arms away. She smoothed down her dress with a flustered look, cheeks faintly pink, “Right, that’s enough of that.” Clearing her throat, she headed for the hob again. “Food will be ready in about forty minutes, so no more sulking in the meantime.”
Harry gave her a sheepish smile, wiping his eyes quickly. “Charlie gave me a wizarding chess set for my birthday,” he confessed. “It’s really quite clever, the pieces talk and move all on their own. I—I thought maybe I’d just put it away, you know. Play it in my room, but…”
“Chess, eh?” Vernon interrupted loudly, his tone cheerfully booming, as though determined to bulldoze through the heavy mood still hanging in the air. He ignored Petunia’s sharp sideways glance. “Now, there’s a proper game! I used to be rather good at it myself.”
Harry blinked and then lit up. “Really? You’d play with me? Even if it’s a magical game?”
“Well, why ever not? As long as it’s not dangerous to any of us…”
Before he could change his mind, Harry dashed upstairs, his feet pounding in excitement. By the time he came back down, breathless and carrying the chess set, Uncle Vernon had already cleared the dining table with Dudley’s help. Together, they all set up the board, the carved stone soldiers snapping to attention in their squares with sharp little salutes.
Even Aunt Petunia, though she shook her head at them in exasperation, lingered in the doorway, ladle in hand, watching as Harry read aloud the rules from the beginner manual tucked into the box.
Soon enough, Vernon was leaning in scowling as he heatedly argued with a particularly stubborn rook while Harry laughed freely for the first time that day. Dudley, the self-appointed referee, hollered unhelpful suggestions to both sides from the sidelines and Petunia kept up a sharp, scathing commentary on the entire lot of them.
By the time the delicious smell of roast wafted from the kitchen, the dining table was alive with chaos and laughter echoing off the walls. Yes, Harry could say that it was a wonderful birthday, after all.
On September 1st, the entire Dursley family set out for London early that morning, their car filled with excitement. Despite the greyness enveloping the city, the long ride through the busy streets was filled with music, off-tune singing and Vernon’s creative insults at the other drivers.
Once they reached Kings Cross Station, the Dursleys got out of their prized Vauxhall and prepared to say their goodbyes. Petunia fussed over Harry, brushing down his clothes. “Remember to write to us regularly. We want to know how you’re settling in. Are you sure you packed everything you need?”
Harry nodded, trying to keep a patient expression as he answered the same question for the thousandth time today. “Yes, Aunt Petunia. I’ve got everything.”
Vernon patted his shoulder approvingly. “Good lad. And don’t forget, if you need anything, just send a letter. We may not be part of that magic world, but we’re still here to give advice. If there's an emergency, Petunia can always come to Hogwarts. So, don't hesitate to contact us.”
He opened the boot and lifted Harry’s heavy trunks and backpack onto a trolley. Despite being nervous about sending his 11-year old nephew to a boarding school he couldn’t even bloody visit, Vernon wheeled the trolley towards the large, bustling entrance of the station (silently wishing, not for the first time, that Harry was headed to a normal school instead of entering this weird, unknown place. At least, Dudley will be going to his old school).
Harry trailed close behind, a jumble of nerves and gratitude as Vernon wheeled the trolley all the way inside the station towards the blank section of wall between Platforms 9 and 10.
“...remember to be careful with your belongings. And make sure you—”
“—eat enough fruits and veggies, right?” Harry finished with a small smile. “Don’t worry, Aunt Petunia, I’ll be careful.”
Petunia added sternly, “And keep up with your normal studies. I don’t want you falling back. You did pack your St. Edmund’s school books, right?”
Harry felt like a bobblehead with how much he was nodding. “Yes, I’ve got everything I need.”
Vernon looked at his watch and saw there was about 14 minutes before the train left. “Right then. Make sure you enjoy yourself at Hogwarts. Study well, but don’t forget to have fun; join some clubs and engage in sports. Now, you have to walk straight into that wall, don’t you?”
At Harry’s confirming nod, he gave a long sigh and shook his head, “This all just seems mental. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stick with St. Edmund’s...” Just as he was speaking, a teenager wearing jeans and a Star Wars t-shirt strode past, a wicked-looking black owl perched on his shoulder. With his luggage rattling in front of him, they all goggled as he and his luggage disappeared behind the wall.
Petunia reached over and patted her poor husband’s arm, well aware of the fear and reluctance he was trying so hard to disguise at letting Harry out of his sight and out of his protection. “The boy needs to train his magic. He can only do that at Hogwarts.”
That seemed to settle it. For all of Vernon’s muttering and worry, no one argued anymore. Instead, they drew Harry into a heartfelt hug. One by one, they held onto him before reluctantly letting go. Dudley stepped forward the last, wrapping his cousin in a bear hug that lifted Harry clean off the ground. “Good luck, Harry. I hope you have a great time. And, uh, don’t forget to write!”
Harry wheezed, laughing as Dudley finally put him back on the ground. “Thanks, Dudley,” he managed, straightening his glasses with a crooked grin. “I will.”
Who needed the Potters when he had his family right here?