Chapter Text
Boy, of Number 4 Privet Drive, lived with his perfectly normal aunt, uncle and cousin. They were part of a perfectly normal neighbourhood with perfectly average neighbours.
That is his aunt and uncle were perfectly normal. Even cousin Dudley, who Boy thinks needs to spend more time on his reading rather than watching the telly, was perfectly normal. Other than Aunt Petunia telling Dudley that he was special because he was able to open a box of granola by himself, that is.
Boy was reminded many times over that he too was special. Not in the kind proud way Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia told Dudley. Boy was special in the way that he had Uncle Vernon’s face change to purple and had Aunt Petunia shriek at him loud enough that his ears hurt.
Boy was special because he was a freak and freaks were the worst kind of special.
So, while his aunt and uncle and even his cousin were perfectly average in their perfectly normal neighbourhood with their perfectly normal neighbours, they never forget to remind Boy that he wasn’t perfectly normal.
It was on Boy’s fifth birthday, however, that something abnormal happened. Of course, it happened on Boy’s birthday, not that he knew it was his birthday.
“Vernon.” Aunt Petunia had said from her Watching Spot, her pretence of drinking tea when actually spying on her neighbours was broken. “There’s a car pulling into the house across the street.”
Number 7 used to house a married couple until they moved because the wife was pregnant. Aunt Petunia heard from the Mrs of Number 6 that the couple of Number 7 decided that they needed more space since the house only had one bedroom.
“Room for a growing child is very important.” Boy had heard his aunt say to Mrs Number 6. He wondered if that’s why his cousin, who had two bedrooms, seemed to be more than double Boy’s width.
The house at Number 7 had been vacant for the past 8 months since the couple moved away. At least, it was until today.
“Are you sure, Tuny?” Came his uncle’s grumbling voice. It was difficult to hear when his uncle was further away from the cupboard, where Boy laid on his mattress in the dark.
“Yes, yes.” She responded. “There’s luggage on the roof of the car, Vernon.”
Boy could hear the dining chairs creak in relief from his uncle’s weight being lifted. The heavy steps paused outside the cupboard and the door swung open. “Hurry up, Boy. We can’t have you lazing around all day. Go out and weed the garden.”
Boy had already weeded out the garden the day before, not that he’d tell his uncle that or he risked staying in the dark cupboard for the rest of the week. The small boy scrambled out of his small room and made his way to the backyard. He would have to pretend to be working but at least it was bright outside and he would be able to breathe in the fresh air instead of the musty one. It was also cooler outside than in his cupboard. Maybe if Boy gets lucky, he can find Dudley’s toy fan and hide it away. Dudley wouldn’t notice it missing since he already ate the candy that came with it.
Boy walked towards the lilies that were planted on the left side of the house. They were his favourite flowers because his Aunt Petunia left him alone the rest of the day when she saw him near them. She didn’t even get mad when she noticed he put the seeds in her trolly at the market. One time Aunt Petunia even brought him a cup of water when he was watching the seeds grow.
As Boy kneeled near the flowers, he watched the people across the street unload their luggage from the car.
“Look Harry, the garage is larger than the one we had.” The blonde woman said. Her hair reminded Boy of the Lynwood shrubs that Number 13 had.
A short stocky man came and got out of the car. He unclipped the luggage from the roof of the car and grabbed a suitcase. “I told you, Zinnia. You are going to like this house, the bathroom is bigger too.” As he was about to leave before he turned back towards the car and opened the back door. “Well, child, put that away and help with the luggage.”
A moment later, a little girl around Boy’s height stepped out with a box much too big for her and slowly walked to the house.
Boy heard the front door open, and he quickly dug his hands into the dirt. When he listened for footsteps fade away, he looked up and saw his uncle at Number 7. He seemed to be talking with the stocky man and laughing before helping the man carry a television into the house.
He heard the door swing open again, this time it was his Aunt Petunia with a pitcher of lemonade. She turned and walked towards Boy, who still has his small hands covered in moist soil. “Boy, go wash up and bring the basket I set on the counter.”
“Yes, Aunt Petunia.” With that said, Boy walked back inside the house and did as she told him to.
The basket was thankfully near the edge of the counter so he was able to reach it. Looking inside, he saw that it was sandwiches made with the fancy bread Aunt Petunia buys for when she has visitors in the house.
Boy was about to walk out of the house when he realised that he was going to meet the new Number 7. His aunt always told Dudley that he has to dress nicely when meeting people. While Boy didn’t go out enough to meet new people he knows that his clothes weren’t what his aunt would call nice. They were too big and hanging off his body.
Would his aunt be angry that he wasn’t dressed nicely? Would Uncle Vernon?
He doesn’t want to get yelled at for his clothes. What if Uncle Vernon throws him in the cupboard because his clothes were too big? He still didn’t get a new light for his sleeping space. Boy didn’t want to stay in the dark again.
He tugged at his shirt and pants, wishing that they would arrange themselves more appropriately. Maybe it was his imagination and hopefulness but wishing must’ve worked because the collar of his shirt was closer to his kneck and Boy’s pants tightened around his waist.
Boy took a deep breath and walked out the door.
“About time, Boy.” His Aunt Petunia said with annoyance. “I want to meet the new neighbours and I don’t want you to be more of an embarrassment than you usually are, do you understand? I want you on your best behaviour. Do you know what that means?”
“To stay quiet and out of the way,” Boy answered.
“Yes. I want you out of the way the entire time, understand?”
“Yes, Aunt Petunia.”
Vernon and Mr Number 7 were standing near the car when Boy and Petunia arrived.
“Tuny, this is Harry Wormwood. He bought the house a few weeks ago.”
“Harry?” Petunia had a poorly hidden look of distaste on her face. “Like my nephew, then? It’s wonderful to meet you.”
The man, Harry, seemed oblivious to her disdain and happily greeted back. “Nice to meet you.”
The shrub-haired woman came back out and stood next to her husband. “Hello.”
“Afternoon,” his aunt said. “I’m Petunia Dursley. Vernon’s wife.”
“What a beautiful name. I’m Zinnia Wormwood.” The woman said and then turned towards the small Boy. “Is this your son?”
“Our Dudley is at Vernon’s sister's house,” Petunia said, with that happy tone that she never had when speaking of Boy. “Unfortunately, we won’t be able to introduce you to him until he comes back. This boy here is Harry, my nephew. He’s under our custody, unfortunately.”
“Troubled then.” Harry Wormwood said. “Like Matilda then?”
“Matilda?” Petunia questioned.
“It’s our daughter.” Mrs Wormwood answered, her voice the same as Aunt Petunia’s when she speaks of Boy.
“Child, come here.” Mr Wormwood called. A moment later the little girl Boy saw quietly appeared next to her mother. “This is Matilda.”
“She seems quiet,” Petunia noted.
“So does your nephew.”
Vernon huffed and looked at the little girl with distrust. “All troublemakers do, don't they?”
“Indeed, they do.” Mr Wormwood agreed. “Would you all like to come inside? The children can stay out here and out of trouble.”
“That would be wonderful.” Aunt Petunia answered. “Boy, give your uncle the basket.”
Boy (or was it Harry, now?) handed the basket towards his uncle, who snatched it out of his hands. The adults made their way into the house leaving the two children outside. Boy (Harry, he thought mentally to himself) looked at the floor, unsure of what to do now.
“Hello?” The little girl said to him, as awkwardly as Harry felt. “I’m Matilda. What’s your name?”
“Harry, I think?” He answered quietly.
Matilda tilted her head and looked at him confused. “You think?”
Harry felt something burn in his chest and face. It made him feel sick. “Aunt and Uncle call me Boy at their house,”
“Oh. What do your Mummy and Daddy call you?”
“I don’t know,” Harry answered. “I never met them.”
“You don’t have parents?” Matilda asked.
“Aunt Petunia said they died in a car accident,” Harry said, his face felt extremely warm.
“They died?” Matilda repeated. “Are you like Frodo?”
Harry looked up and met Matilda’s blue eyes with his green ones. “Who’s Frodo?”
“He’s a character from Lord of the Rings,” Matilda said. “It’s a book.”
“Uncle Vernon doesn’t like it when I read,” Harry said. “He says Freaks don’t get to read books.”
“My daddy says the same thing.”
The burning feeling from Harry’s chest lifted. “Really? But you read them anyway?”
Matilda played with the hem of her dress straps. “Daddy doesn’t care as long as I don’t bother him when he’s watching the telly.”
Harry’s eyes widened. “Wow, that’s so lucky.”
The girl smiled largely. “Is it? I wanted to read again but Daddy won’t want to see me inside the house after he said that we’d stay outside.”
“But you can read when my aunt and uncle leave, right?” Matilda nodded. “We can do something else outside until then.”
“What can we do?” Matilda asked curiously.
Harry thought for a moment. “Do you want to see the caterpillars I found in my aunt’s garden?”
“Caterpillars! Are they going to turn into butterflies?” Matilda asked. She grabbed Harry’s hand and together they crossed the road to his Aunt’s house.
Harry’s eyes shined brightly. “I hope they do.”
They spent the next few hours watching the insects in the garden. Harry’s favourite was the orange ladybug that landed on Matilda's hand. Matilda said they bring good luck and promised to share her luck with Harry.
They lay on the lawn near the lilies, holding hands and watching the sunset, when the little girl broke the happy quiet that rested itself on the children. “Harry?”
Harry, who was trying to absorb the colours of the sky in his mind, sleepily responded. “Yes, Matilda.”
“Do you want to be my friend?” Her voice shook slightly.
“Friend?” Harry turned to look at her. “I never had a friend before. I don’t know if I’d be very good at it.”
“I never had any friends either but I think we can learn together,” Matilda said with hopeful blue eyes.
Harry gave her a wide smile (he smiled so much today that it hurt his face but he didn’t want to stop). “Okay, we can be friends together.” He turned back to the sky. “I’m going to be the best friend for you.”
“Me too!” Matilda squeezed his hand.
Later, when Harry was shoved into his cupboard and Matilda into the attic, they slept knowing that their friend was only a few yards away