Chapter 1: Freedom
Chapter Text
After another average day of having his glasses broken by Dudley, being shoved around by Uncle Vernon, and forced to clean the house spotless by Aunt Petunia, Harry decided he couldn’t take it anymore.
Harry, in all his short years of life, had run away from the Dursleys a handful a times, only returning after nice strangers persuaded him to.
All his attempts were not in vain, however, as the nice strangers always bought him a nice, hot meal before dumping him back on the Dursleys doorstep. So no matter how bad the punishments got, he at least had the chance to eat a full meal.
With this mindset in place, Harry pulled himself upright in his dark cupboard and pulled out a small, broken flashlight he had taken from the neighbours garbage bin. He looked out the hole in the cupboard door, letting out a relieved exhale at the darkness infront of him. The telly was off, and it meant Uncle Vernon was asleep.
The cupboard was locked, but Harry unlocked it with practised ease, staring intensely at the lock and feeling a small force pull from him, like the pulling of a needle while halfheartedly sewing a torn hand-me-down. He knew the Dursleys would punish him for his secret act of freakishness, but paid no mind to it as he quietly stepped out, only taking the broken flashlight, two old toy soldiers, and five quid he nicked from the living room while Aunt Petunia was distracted. Placing his little belongings in the large pockets of Dudleys old trousers, he treaded towards the front door.
Forcing down the anxiety crawling up his chest, he opened the door, peeping his head out and checking for Ms. Figgs concealed window. He took silent, little steps, increasing his speed the further he got from the doorstep before making a run for it. He felt a familiar force trying to pull him back, the boy ignored it, focused on his feet hitting the hard asphalt as fast as he could.
Harry ran. And ran. Running until he couldn’t run anymore. The wind blew through his unruly hair, hitting his face yet it made him feel as if a set of chains on him just broke, as all the other times. His breathing synced with the cold breeze and his thoughts flickered from his rapidly moving body and Im free.
He tripped, he scraped his knee, he lost his glasses, yet he kept running, kept moving forward, kept going further until his small legs gave out near an empty park.
The small boy let out a neglected cry as he crashed onto the dry grass. Slowly, he pulled himself up to rest on the ground, his knees burning and his feet stinging. With slightly shaking hands, he brushed his fringe off his sweaty forehead and pulled out his flashlight. It only provided a small amount of light, but it was enough for Harry.
He had stepped on small shards of glass and multiple rough pebbles while fleeing from the Dursleys, and he whimpered at the sharp pain that shot through his legs as the adrenaline wore off.
Painfully pulling out the shards and wrapping long pieces of the threadbare cloth he bit off of his shirt around his feet, he managed to crawl behind a tree, hugging his legs to his chest and wiping away unwanted tears from his face. Because freaks aren’t allowed to cry.
Taking heavy breaths, he hung his head back and rested against the tree. Maybe this time the kind strangers wouldnt drop him off back at the Dursleys. Maybe this time someone would find him and take him in. Maybe he would land in an orphanage, just like how Aunt Petunia had promised him. Maybe, just maybe.
He glanced around the park, taking in the dark gloom of the night settling over his blurry surroundings. His glasses were long gone, having fallen as somewhere back in Privet Drive. He noticed something in the grass approaching him. Grabbing his flashlight, the small light casted over a long, moving… rope? No, it was a snake. The snake slithered closer to Harry, as Harry hugged his legs closer to himself.
The snake hissed quietly, and Harry almost thought he heard whispers of actual words from the snake.
“…Hatchling, what hassss brought you here?”
No, Harry hadn’t thought it, the snake was speaking to him.
His eyes widened and the snake kept moving closer.
His mouth opened before he could stop. “…Hello? Are you sssspeaking to me?” he felt himself prolonging the S sounds almost naturally.
“Yessss, who elsse, hatchling?”
Chapter 2: Friend
Notes:
I jumped for joy when i saw 4 kudos on the first chapter. i send a million thanks to all the goats who actually read this shit
thank you to my awesome sauce best friend who helped me outline some plotpoints (hi rue)
criticism is very much appreciated cuz i cannot for the life of me find the mistakes in my writing that i KNOW are there
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“How?!” Harry sputtered. He could vaguely remember mutterings from the small Garter snakes back at Aunt Petunia’s garden, but had always thought he was either imagining it or just a harsh whisper of the air.
Another hiss was heard, and with the help of his flashlight, he managed to spot another blurry rope slithering towards him. Letting out an undignified squeak, he shifted to crawl behind the tree, but the second snake spoke before he could try.
“What isss thisss?” The second snake raised itself upwards to take a better look at Harry. It had a gruffer note to its voice compared to the others flowing, cynical tone—if that even made sense.
“He isss a Ssspeaker.” The first snake said
“I can sssee that. You would have bitten him if he wasssnt.”
“Thanksss.”
The second snake did what was probably the snake equivalent to rolling its eyes, before focusing intently on Harry and moving closer to observe him. The snake was almost touching the tip of his nose before Harry’s vision settled on it.
“…Hullo,” Harry started, trying to rear himself back, only to hit the tree.
“Ssstrange… I havent ssseen a ssspeaker in a long time.“
“Ssstrange,” The first snake parroted. The other snake gave it a firm whack of its tail.
The snake paused for a moment, seeming almost contemplative. Harry prayed he was dreaming, he was talking to snakes. But… he had to admit, it was kind of cool. Heck—as far as he knew, even Dudley couldn’t do it! He vaguely wondered this counted as “freakish“.
“What bringsss you here, hatchling?” It hissed.
“I ran away,” Harry replied, reminding himself of his grumbling stomach and and heavy limbs.
“Why? Nessst isss good.” The first snake piped up, slowly slithering up to Harry’s wrapped foot.
“My… relativesss dont like me very much.” Harry tried pulling his leg back, only for short pains to shoot up his leg. The snake flicked its tongue out, investigating the cloth around Harry’s feet.
“Why?”
“Because they think im a freak.”
“Why—“ The snake was interrupted by a harsh flick of the others tail.
“Ignore him, he isss sstill learning.“ The snake slid back, placing space between them, unlike the other, which was slowly trying to slither up his leg over the trousers. Harry, disregarding his body’s demands to close his eyes, watched with fearful curiosity as the snake made itself comfortable on his knee.
Harry continued cautiously speaking with the snakes instead of sleeping right then and there in fear of risking getting bitten in his sleep. After voicing (hissing?) the confusion he dealt with when referring to each snake, the second snake informed him that they don’t use “pointless human naming systems“, so Harry took it to himself to name them. The first snake was pleased with being dubbed Parker (how convenient). The second snake, finding itself far too superior to be named by a mere human child, named itself Cobra, which made Harry suppress a giggle upon hearing it. He felt a small spark of happiness when he faintly realised these snakes we're now somewhat considered pets (or friends) to Harry. He had never owned a pet before, the only household animals he'd interacted with before being Ms. Figgs cabbage-smelling cats and a goldfish Dudley had won in a carnival game that passed a day later.
In an attempt to be rid of the possibly dangerous snakes, Harry set off to continue his journey to leave Little Whinging, painfully trudging his way through and leaning heavily on anything solid enough to hold onto. After walking for however long the boy found himself in a town somewhere near Guilford, the only name he remembered from all the signs he hadn't bothered to read. Unbeknownst to him, a certain little snake had been following behind him, keeping watch of its new friend.
He sat in a grimy alley between two shops and settled to hiding behind a large garbage bin. This was the farthest he had gotten so far, and it felt awful. He was dirty, tired, hungry and lightly injured in more places than he could count. He also couldn’t see very well, having to squint to see everything clearer. Only one thought kept him slightly content with his actions, the idea that he was now far enough to be free of the Dursleys, free of the crumbs he had to eat, free of his cupboard, finally free.
With the heaviness of his eyelids, the feeling of his limbs completely giving up and the numbness of everything, he was able to ignore the stink of the garbage bin and the cold wind flying through the alley in favour of accepting the fatigue settling in his body. He carefully curled up on the ground, resting his head on an empty plastic bag. His hopeful, imaginative thinking won over the more rational part of his thoughts, allowing him to sleep (mostly) peacefully in the dingy alleyway.
Harry sat sluggishly, trying to calculate the time it took for him to be woken up by a concerned stranger and being placed in a car with a Child Protective Services agent.
Notes:
yeah i cant write inner dialogue for the life of me
thank you Levants for creating the heavenly cuisine that is Wara2 3enab. Wara2 3enab is my life source and i couldnt have written this chapter if it werent for that.
Chapter 3: Fallow
Notes:
at this point moraly grey/dark harry will definitely happen
ALSO: i am not british!!!!!!!! slang here may be a bit messed up
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It had only been two days since Harry landed in Hollie’s Orphanage when he had his belongings (or what little he had of them) stolen by another child.
He had to admit, he would miss the broken little toy soldiers that gave him the childish comfort he had always longed for--made him feel more like a normal child in his dark cupboard. But the child who stole it, however, was a boy a few years older than Harry named Andy Weaver, a boy notorious in the orphanage for misbehaving and committing all sorts of small crimes. Andy was part of a small gang of delinquents from the children’s home that had been eyeing Harry ever since he was dropped on their dusty doorstep. They all wore scars won from fights with pride and picked on the younger children; some of the older teens even had tattoos. Most of them sported buzzed hair and a nasty attitude.
The orphanage itself was an old building that most likely used to be a school in Bellfields, Guildford. Harry fared quite well in it, staying mostly quietly by himself and watching the other children play unless they came up to him and invited him to join, though he never made any friends there. Not yet, perhaps.
Speaking of friends, Parker--the snake--, who had somehow sneaked into the children’s home, gave him a fright when he suddenly heard faint hissing in the night. When Harry asked why and how, the snake only wrapped itself around his arm--causing Harry to rear back--and made hissing sounds like giggles.
A week into Harry’s stay was when some children began avoiding him, catching glimpses and rumours of a snake following Potter. He had heard a girl whisper to her friend about him being some type of demon and the snake being his sinful companion and almost spat out his juice. The rumours only increased in absurdity following his second week, along with the stares from the group of juveniles.
By his third week, Harry was approached by a young teen he often saw hanging out with the group, David. David was one of the more merciless ones of the group, a stark contrast to Andy, who’s been looking as though he were considering snatching Harry’s snake. David nodded, ”Oi.”
Harry nodded back, humming a greeting. He wondered what David would want from Harry, the puny, quiet nine-year-old who liked snakes.
David crouched down to where Harry was sitting on the porch watching the other boys play footy. ”Why don’tchu play wit them?” David nodded towards the small field of boys.
”I dunno. I like watching, somethin’ to do.” The small boy had recently began picking up on the casual accent they used at Hollie's, glad to leave behind the Dursleys posh-like way of speaking.
”Plenty to do here.”
”I guess.” Harry avoided the teen’s gaze, keeping his own focused on the blurs of boys from a distance.
”Say, d’you fancy comin’ wit us ‘morrow?”
Harry’s brows shot up and he pointed a small finger to his chest. ”Me?” He finally turned to the older boy, surprise written all over his face.
”Yea, you.” David flicked the fabric hanging off Harry’s sleeve, straight-faced yet the ghost of a smile crossed over his face. ”Small, quiet. You’d be good.”
Harry didn’t know which answer would likely lead to Andy being sent to nick his thoughts next, so he stayed silent.
“Gonna do over the offie down Isla Street ‘morrow night. Ain’t got much of nuffin’, c’ept a diamond geezer out. Goin’ after the till and... others.“ David glanced down at Harry almost sympathetically. “You’ve a share, Just need to slip you through the back.”
David glanced down, frowning. Harry followed his line of sight, finding Parker slithering up his leg. David grunted something Harry didn’t catch, and the younger boy let the snake move up his knee, contemplating David’s prompt.
Harry was horrified at the prospect of it, he didn’t fancy becoming a criminal at such a young age. Stealing was wrong; it was also dangerous. What if they got caught? He would definitely get in trouble. But if he refused... Harry had seen what the group had done to a teen who’d done them wrong, he frankly didn’t want to take that chance. And some money could be quite useful...
Harry shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Alright.“
David offered a gap-toothed grin, giving Harry a pat on the back that nearly knocked his breath out. “Good lad.“
The teen stayed for a few more moments, watching the game along with Harry. Before standing up to head back to wherever he came from, leaving Harry alone on the porch to wonder whether he regrets his decision yet.
“Not sssafe.“ Parker piped up.
“I know, Parker.“ Harry whispered back in English.
Notes:
i took some inspiration from Antithesis by Oceanbreeze7 and All The Young Dudes by Mskingbean89 if you couldnt tell already
everyone loves delinquent Harryshould the next chapter be Harry's first robbery?
thank you goats for reading
Chapter 4: Flock
Notes:
hihihi longer chapter 4 today cuz i missed yesterdays
wer'e finally getting somewhere with Harry and his magic
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Please miss...“ Harry sniffled pitifully. “I-i dunno where they went, they were just here...“ He pointed to a random alley, his voice cracking and making him sound younger than he was. The lady cooed at him, leaning down with a tissue to wipe at Harrys crocodile tears.
It was Harrys fourth official outing with the gang, after his first robbery being a success, the group had decided he was quite useful to them and began inviting him more. Harry felt guilty, obviously, for agreeing to be their weapon for crime, but, the experience was thrilling. The fear and excitement mixing in with the rapid beating of his heart. Plus, he was given candy, something that was practically forbidden at Hollie’s Children’s Home.
They were currently experimenting with using Harry as a lost child looking for his parents for store owners to take pity on, and Harry was playing his role beautifully. He could spot buzzed heads peeking out a nearby alley, the oldest of them watching the interaction hungrily.
“Oh, dearie, im sure we’ll find them.“ The woman assured. She turned to glance at the empty counter, biting her lip, seeming uncertain about leaving the shop unguarded. After a short moment of doubtful thinking, she gave in. “Well... I guess I could leave for just a bit...“ she mumbled, mostly to herself. Harry mentally gave himself a pat on the back.
The woman began to lead him away, asking strangers if they had seen Harry’s “parents“. Harry saw the teens sneak into the store from his peripheral, resisting his urge to glare daggers at Andy. He would always hold a grudge for the boy for taking the only item he brought to the children’s home. Andy, in turn, eyed Harry and picked on him whenever he could, envious of the fact the Potter boy was now the youngest of the gang instead of him.
Harry wouldn’t outright say it, but a reason of why every outing with him was successful was because Harry occasionally used his ‘’freakiness’’ to help him with every job. Picking open locked doors with a discreet flick of his hand, silencing his surroundings, or confusing security into thinking nothing was wrong. He would feel used up and exhausted by the end, but something inside him would send waves of relief over him, as if it were a caged animal finally able to run free. After all, if it was odd and unexplainable, then nobody needed to know, right?
Similar to Aunt Petunia, the orphanage’s Matron, Ms. Ardley, would at some point try to shave off Harry’s hair, only for the boy to wake up back to a wild head of hair the next day. He tried to convince her it never happened and that she never even touched his hair in the first place, focusing intensely on pushing back whatever force was deemed ‘freakish’ onto her. He had felt something pulling away from him, before a loud thud sounded near them, breaking his concentration. Ms. Ardley began yelling at a pair of boys who had caused the noise, but Harry could only hear muffled words, as if he were in a bubble. Something ringed loudly in his ears, his vision blurred more than normal, he felt dizzy with the sudden feeling of everything pulling and pushing at the same time in discord. And before he knew it, he had blacked out.
Harry woke up with a throbbing headache, his heartbeat matching the pains behind his eye. It had been at least a week since the incident in which he passed out, with everyday waking with a slightly less painful migraine than the last. Apparently, some people had forgotten the moment where it happened, a few people even forgot who Harry was, and a flood of rumours came after it, including one of a kid experiencing sudden amnesia and another of Harry being a wizard (he laughed at that one, honestly, how ridiculous was that?). One of the only people who remembered the instance, Andy, had told Harry about random flickering of the lights and a line of blood dripping from Harrys nose before he fell, laughing at the memory and boasting to the group about the fact that he won the fight which had caused the loud noise. (he did not)
Harry and Andy had managed to become somewhat neutral to each other; Andy had stopped picking on him whenever the older teens weren’t looking, though the glint in his eyes betrayed his urge to. Harry, however, still held his grudge firmly and often glared at Andy behind his back. No matter how small and useless the stolen item was, it was still his. All the other boys knew of Harry’s dislike for Andy, but they could never prove it with Harry giving them the Innocent Little Boy look he used around older shop owners whenever they mentioned it to him. Even if items on shelves randomly fell on Andy’s head and he tripped on empty roads, no one could lead the inconveniences back to Harry.
He almost gagged at the taste of the medicine he was forced to take by an older girl, she tutted as he jerked his head back at the sight of another spoonful of medicine. She firmly cupped his chin and muttered a threat that nearly made Harry inhale the horrid liquid.
“Aww, is lil’ Harry ill? Does he need his mummy?“ Andy taunted, Harry’s eye twitched at the sound of his voice that somehow managed to make his headache worse despite the medicine. The older and younger children at the orphanage were separated into two buildings and only older teens who were trusted by the staff were allowed into the children’s section, how the older boy even managed to sneak into it almost every other day, Harry would never know. But he kind of wanted to. He felt guilty at the thought, yet he had developed a certain disregard to the rules since the day David had approached him.
“Piss off, Andy.“ Harry scowled.
“Can’ we jus’ get along? it was one small toy, Harry.“
The smaller boy only hummed dismissively. “Say, how’d you get in here?“ He asked, eyeing Andy as the older girl gave up with trying to tame his hair.
Andy grinned, waving his hands dramatically. “Magic.“
Harry’s eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head at the others reply. However, it gave him a brilliant idea...
“Anyways, John wants ya. sumfin’ ‘bout the closed offie down town.“
“A job? But it’s closed?“ Harry frowned, confused.
“Yea, but Its prolly for graffiti or sumfink.“ Andy wanted to say no shit, but he reckoned it wasn’t appropriate to say that around a nine-year-old. He clapped Harrys shoulder, ruffling his hair before walking off. “Right, hurry now, don’ want big Tim comin’ for ya.“ He didn’t notice the way Harry gave him a dirty look before he suddenly tripped.
Notes:
manipulative Harry is coming together well now, its the slytherin in him i swear guys
thank you for readingggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg
Chapter 5: Flurry
Notes:
mostly filler for development aaaaaaaaaaaa
1.7k IS longer, rue, so fuck uANDY POV HOORAY
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Keep up, runt, or i’ll leave ya.”
“Wouldn’t mind, better than smellin’ your boots.” Harry returned. He and Andy were unfortunately paired together for a job, and were currently climbing up a rusty fire escape of an old apartment building that the residents of seemed reluctant to leave despite the building looking as thought it was one push away from crumbling to dust.
Most of the group were already on the roof, waiting for the rest to reach the ledge. Harry frowned as old paint stuck to his sweaty palms. The metal creaked under them with every wobbly step. Andy moved with practiced ease, only stopping shortly so Harry could keep up.
With one leg above the other, and a sudden crack, the panel gave way. Harry gasped sharply, his small hands clutching at the rusted metal and his legs dangling over the debris. Metal screamed as if it were alive, dust rained under him as the hot breeze swept around him. His breathing faltered and his mind panicked. His heartbeats went haywire, he could feel the blood rushing under his skin like a moving river and his hands were slowly slipping off the rail.
His eyes darted everywhere in alarm, which was how he noticed Andy looking down on him. Looking almost hesitant at the thought of saving him. The prat!
After what felt like a lifetime shortened to one second, he felt a strong grip catch his wrist, pulling him upwards. Andy grit his teeth, pulling with all he could as his own hand grasped onto the rusting metal under him.
“Bloody hell, are you tryin’ to die?!” Andy barked.
Harry wanted to roll his eyes, but he was too busy dangling off a five-story building like a fish to a hook. “Didn’t think I’d give it away.”
They wrestled with balance, Andy cursed and Harry let out a whimper. Andy had half his body hanging off the ledge, and held Harrys wrist with a deathly grip, nearly slipping. With a hard grunt, Harry was hauled up onto solid ground.
They both sat on the metal, panting. The wave of panic slowly wore off, and Harry could faintly hear the sounds of laughing and shouts from above.
He stared, wide-eyed at Andy for a short moment before realising he was staring and quickly lowered his gaze. He let out a small “…Cheers.” before pulling himself back up. Andy grumbled something back, face flushed with his previous effort.
“Oi, lovebirds! You comin’ or what?” An older boy yelled from above. Harrys face twisted into a harsh scowl at the comment while Andy gagged.
Andy groaned as the lights of the pearly gates suddenly emerged from the windows, forcing him to stir. He shifted to his side and pushed his pillow over his head before feeling something solid and sharp underneath him.
He turned, searching for the object with one eye open. He was still drunk with sleep as he pulled the object up, barely seeing that it was a… broken toy soldier. The same one he had nicked from Harry when he first came. How long has it been? Two months? Four, maybe?
They kept bickering over the stolen object, with Andy stealing it and Harry somehow taking it back, then Andy sneaking into the younger childrens section to steal it and so on repeatedly. But now, the younger boy willingly put it back into Andy’s unlawful possession. The realisation made the corners of Andy’s lips twist up in a small smile and he let out a sleepy chuckle, placing his face back into the blissful darkness of his pillow for a few more minutes before the staff came to wake them up.
After a light game of footy, Andy decided it was a great day to sneak into the younger childrens building in search of valuables.
He searched from room to room, top to bottom bunk, and avoided the staff skillfully only to find two quid and a trading card he took because it looked funny. Almost instinctively, He also went through multiple floors to get to Harry’s room. He knew there was nothing of value, perhaps donated clothes, a few hidden candies, but he searched nonetheless.
Lifting up the neat pillow—honestly, Andy reckoned Harry was probably the most organised boy in the entire section—to find a snake huddled up beneath it. Oh.
The snake lifted its head up sluggishly, its tongue flickering out rapidly. He knew the snake, obviously. It was the little fucker that would sometimes hang around Harry and pretend to lunge at Andy. He had an insane theory that Harry could speak to the snake, because whenever it would happen, he would find Harry laughing and looking as if it was his plan all along.
With the mingling feeling in the back of his mind at the thought of the snake actually biting him this time, he frowned and quickly threw the pillow back before making his escape.
He later found himself strolling back towards the field, when he found a certain wild-haired boy sitting on the porch, watching the other boys preparing for another game. Since Harry was placed in the orphanage Andy had slowly learned that if he ever needed the smaller boy, he could always find him on the porch; Watching other boys playing footy from a distance. He had always wondered why the boy would never join in, only sat brooding on the old wood planks and observing the game.
He wanted to run up to the field and join the players but seeing the younger boy looking sadder than usual piqued his curiosity. They weren’t close, only recently beginning to be truly neutral to each other, it’d be awkward. He contemplated the two paths for a moment. ..Ah, fuck it.
“Alright, ‘arry.” He crouched down, shifting to sit somewhat properly.
“Alright,” Harry replied blankly.
“Why don’ you play wiv ‘em?”
“Dunno. Why’re you here, ‘stead o’ there?” The younger boy nodded towards the small playing field.
“Dunno. Why you look moodier’n usual?”
Harry went quiet for a moment, before turning to Andy. “It’s my birthday.”
Andy awkwardly shrugged. “Birthday, huh? Don’t see no cake.”
Harry rolled his eyes, Andy carried on, grinning like an idiot. ““What are you now, Seven? Eight? Nine? …Six?”
Harry swatted his arm, huffing. “Ten. Means you gotta buy me a pint soon.” Harry’s lips twitched into a small, cheeky smile.
Andy ruffled the younger boys hair, half-expecting it to bite him. “Well, err… Happy bloody birthday then.”
“Don’ let the others find out. They’ll chuck ya in the bin for a laugh.” He added.
“I’ll chuck you in the bin.” Harry returned, a little chuckle slipping out. It was probably the first time Andy had seen Harry laugh at something he said that wasnt mocking.
Harry’s chuckle still lingered in the air, quick and unexpected. Andy blinked, then snorted like he hadn’t noticed it was the first time.
“Right then,” He huffed out, pushing himself up and brushing at his knees. “C’mon then, birthday boy. Got somethin’ better than sittin’ round here.”
Harry narrowed his eyes, half-suspicious. “Why? What’re you plannin’?”
“Oi, don’ look at me like that. Just a li’le wander, yeah? Nuffin’ fancy. Jus’… thought you’d wanna get out for a bit.”
Harry hummed, eyes still narrowed. “Where?”
Andy shrugged. “I know a spot. See if the shops’ve still got the sweets i nicked last week,” He added.
Harry hesitated, but his mouth betrayed him with the ghost of another cheeky smile. “…You’d get caught first.”
“Oi, I’m quicker than you, shrimp,” Andy shot back, jerking his head towards the gate. “C’mon, before I change my mind. Ain’t every day you turn ten, innit?”
An awkward conversation and the promise of sweets was what led Harry to find himself on top of a building, leaning over the ledge with a half-eaten scone in his hand. On his birthday, of all days. With Andy, of all people.
Next to him was an empty can of spray-paint they shared previously for Andy to practice graffiti and Harry to doodle over Andys work. He surprisingly had fun with the older boy, legging it from shop to shop and chasing animals--with the exception of dogs, which chased them.
They had a plastic bag sitting somewhere with stolen items, Harry claimed most of the sweets, while Andy had somehow nicked a bowler hat and a walking stick. The teen spent five minutes strutting around with the items on, demonstrating how the objects weren’t ”stupid”, as Harry had voiced, then proceeded to whack Harry with the cane when he wasn’t looking, leading to a swordfight between a random pole and a walking stick. Harry won, obviously. He may have twisted the odds to his favour by moving the cane in the opposite direction with a concentrated look, but that didnt count.
”Oi, ‘Arry, shift over.”
Harry nearly jumped out of his skin as Andy made himself known, just coming back from the loo. He look up at Andy, raising a brow. They were on a flat roof, and he decided to take Harrys spot?
”Get your own spot, git.” He lightly shoved Andy, his lips curling upwards in a cocky smirk, an expression he began using with every chance he got.
”Nah,” He poked Harry’s side, making him yelp before forcefully placing himself at a respectable distance, wearing a proud grin.
It stumped Harry how he and Andy could be so civil--no, friendly. With their brotherlike banter and teasing that wasnt meant too harshly, and the way Andy seemed to take charge whenever they faced trouble it made Harry nearly trust that Andy wouldn’t out him for a bag of crisps. Sometimes it infuriated Harry how the older boy would take serious situations as a joke or laugh in the face of danger (not in a good way). He wouldn't admit it, but he did occasionally appreciate his attempts to lighten the mood, especially for the child who shouldn't be in those situations to begin with and didn’t understand what was happening most of the time.
He was snapped out of his thoughts by another poke to his side and jumped. ”What was that for?!” he cried.
”As i was sayin’, is the snake your pet or sumfin’?” Andy repeated, his finger raised threateningly towards Harry’s rib.
”Yeah, yeah, he is. Get your finger off--” He whacked Andy’s hand, grumbling. ”His name’s Parker.”
”Parker? where’d you get tha’, some family name?”
”I found ‘im at a park.” He replied in between bites of his scone.
Andy nodded slowly and Harry could see the way he was restraining himself from bursting out laughing. “..Right, right. Very meaningful...“
Notes:
can you tell ive had experience with people poking at my sides
i will go back to my grave for another few days until the next chapter
thankkkk youuuuu forrrrr readingggggggggg
Chapter 6: Flick
Notes:
aaaa sorry for the late chapter
Dumbledore pov finally!!!! i hope i did his character justice
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It had been seven months—half a year—since Harry Potter went missing.
The little ring of the small, rune engraved stone glowing red on a low shelf in his office indicated that the boy had left the Dursley’s home. The very first time it happened Albus nearly panicked, quickly contacting an agent specialising in Magical Child Protection to find Harry and kindly bring him back to the Dursleys.
He would have went and collected the boy himself, but that posed a risk to muggles passing by and seeing a very old man wearing odd robes guiding a small child, along with the small child being revealed to a world he wasn’t yet prepared for.
After the agent informed him that the child was safe back at the Dursley’s, he slumped back in relief, paying no mind to the hints of the boy’s well being from the worker.
The second and third time he heard the stone ringing, he called another few workers and had them preform the same routine. By the fourth time—which had stunned him, how did the boy manage four times?!—He decided to firmly reinforce the wards around the Dursleys, which were getting weaker the longer the boy left, ensuring the boy couldn’t run away from the safety of the blood wards anymore.
Of course, he received many complaints from the agents, stating that the boy’s home life was not suitable for a child, and recommended moving him to a facility better suited to the Boy-who-lived. Albus refused all, knowing it would be better for Harry to stay behind the blood wards. Safe and well protected from any vengeful wix or power that posed a threat to the young Potter.
Now, the boy was missing. Somehow escaping the wards once more despite the reinforcements Albus was sure wouldn’t fall in the case of accidental magic from a small child.
At first, he was sure one agent would be enough, yet when the worker floo’d to his office to inform him that they did not find the child, he placed his head in his hands and nearly weeped.
What worried Albus the most was the stone that was connected to blood wards at the Dursleys. What was once a glowing red gemstone engraved with runes was now a plain gray rock. The only reason why the stone would suddenly stop was that one of three instances could have occurred, either the Dursley family had passed, or Harry did not think of the house as his home, or that Harry Potter had died.
Albus, weary and still experiencing jitters of war, thought the worst, and soon sent a search party to Little Whinging after the first month of the boys disappearance.
When the party came back without the Boy-Who-Lived, Albus let out a despairing sigh and sent another party to search in various places across Surrey. Guilt and regret enveloped him in a cold embrace during the next few months, he could have placed a stronger set of wards, talked to the Dursleys himself, or even place the boy in another home. Instead, the boy was missing and had several search parties looking for a child that could be dead. Perhaps he could have heeded the Agents concerns and checked into the boy’s homelife, but he had assumed the blood wards would hold firmly, only to be proven wrong once again.
He worried for the child, it was no easy journey for a boy his age to tread out of Little Whinging entirely. Unless the worst had come to pass... No, he could not allow himself to think that way. Though a part of him, a part of him still reliving the unfortunate losses of the long forgotten wars, faintly accepted it. Painting another vague picture in his mind of one more poor soul taken from the world, to be hung among the countless other faded faces, all held with honour. If not for the honour of Death, then for the cursed life the boy will be subjected to.
Still hopeful, he decided to pay a visit to the Dursleys, only to receive a sneer. “The brat left months ago.” Petunia let out a spiteful laugh, voicing her wishes for the boy to die than come back, before slamming the door in Albus’ face.
The agents still sent reports of the investigations. Crawley came up empty. Croydon had no Potter to be found. Some wix were sent outside of Surrey in a desperate attempt to find the boy, but a certain group was firm in searching all of Surrey, eventually finding themselves in Guildford.
Harry watched as the older boys argued over their game of cards, laughing at the crude insults that were thrown at each other and the obvious cheating they accused others of, unaware of the cards up Harry’s shirt given to him by both teams.
He had sneaked into the older children’s building, and gave anyone who asked how an innocent smile along with an answer that differed with each person.
Andy, who he had been getting closer to over the weeks—yet still “unintentionally” made him trip just for laughs—was playing football in the field, probably refereeing the game and giving the team he didn’t like false fouls.
Harry jumped, some cards falling out of his shirt, when the door burst open with a panting Andy. “Harry, they want ya.” He breathed out, simply pulling Harry up instead of elaborating. Some boys indignantly cried out at the sight of even more cards falling from his shirt, and he laughed as he was pulled out of the building.
“What’s goin’ on? Who wants me?” Harry asked once they were outside, heading towards the second building.
“I dunno. Saw a group o’ fancy lookin’ people out. Ardley said they asked for you.”
Harry’s brows furrowed. They wanted him? Who? Why? He wondered if they were just a family willing to adopt him, but he always sneaked over to the other building every time people came in looking to adopt. He frankly liked staying at the Home, the older boys practically adopting him as their little brother only made his choice to stay even firmer.
And, as far as he knew, nobody outside the orphanage knew of Harry. Perhaps the Dursleys, but he knew there was no way they would take time out of their day looking for him; Especially after all this time.
He was soon herded in by the matron, sending a confused look to Andy, who mirrored him.
By the entrance was a group of people looking a little out of place for the average person in Guildford. Some looked worried, while others relieved as if they had found a missing artefact (perhaps they did).
The matron also looked a little concerned, but gave a welcoming smile to the group, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “Here he is, Harry Potter.”
Harry glanced nervously at the group, they didn’t particularly look like adoptees. The matron’s grip on his shoulder became firmer in warning, and he let out a small, “Er—hi.”
One of them gave a short greeting, made him confirm his name was his name, then instructed him to lift up his fringe. He did as so, revealing the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead he got from the car accident that killed his parents. It wasn’t very big, only long enough to leave a small cut on his eyebrow.
Some gasped at the sight, some looked up as if thanking the heavens. Harry wondered if they just escaped from a mental hospital.
Soon after their stupor subsided, small introductions poured from one of the adults, who presented herself as Alice, which ended with a slightly hurried explanation that involved something about family, authority, and ”needing Harry for a little while”. Most of it went unheard to Harry as he narrowed his gaze at the group. Though he picked up enough pieces to figure out that they wanted to take him out of the orphanage for a reason he couldn’t quite catch.
He felt Alice grasp his arm lightly, and jumped back at the touch, pulling his arm away. ”It’s okay, we wont hurt you.” She said softly, continuing with her attempts to hold him and pacify him at the same time. He continued backing away, telling them he didn’t want to leave, until one of the other adults firmly grasped his arm, ”C’mon, kid. we don’t have all day.” The man spoke, pulling Harry further out the orphanage. Harry squirmed trying to pull himself away, though it only made the mans grip harden.
Some of the adults tried to reason with the man, while others either watched or agreed with him. Harry glanced around helplessly, his body tingling with the urge to scream and run. Why had these people come for him anyway? He already found himself a bit attached to the orphanage, and would not let a bunch of odd looking people take it from him. He had enough of people taking from him.
He grunted, pulling back with all he could. He bit the mans arm, making him let out a small curse and clutch his arm to his chest. His efforts were useless, however, as other people tried the same approach as Alice, then gradually switched to roughly handling the boy. He tried biting and shoving every arm that came near him, kicking and screaming as arms forcefully dragged him up. He noticed one of them discreetly pulling out a long, polished stick. No. He thought. His only thought before he began thrashing in their grips, screaming bloody murder. Something caught on fire and a few hands let go, the possessors of said hands suddenly seeming confused. He pulled and pushed and his throat went dry, he barely registered how someone went flying back the moment Harry locked eyes with them.
Behind him, the matron, Ms. Ardley, felt a warm rush fall over her, relieving her of her thoughts for a moment. The little scene of the Potter boy thrashing about like a frightened cat slowly slipped away from her conscience. Her vision obscured for a while, it felt like she was in a dream, a serene calm taking over her as she vaguely remembered scolding a boy at that very moment..
Harry, writhing like a caged animal and screaming himself hoarse only a second ago, was panting heavily infront of the doorsteps. There was no group to be seen, he had only heard a loud crack before everything went silent and he was standing alone infront of the children’s home. He felt worn out, wrung of every ounce of energy he had like a towel. Though despite his exhaustion, something inside him was practically humming.
Notes:
thank you for readingggggggggggggggg
this chapter was so fun to write
syma (Guest) on Chapter 5 Sun 21 Sep 2025 06:24PM UTC
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Gabe_r13l on Chapter 5 Mon 22 Sep 2025 01:54PM UTC
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