Chapter Text
Scared. Hurt. Lonely.
Terrified. In Pain. Alone.
Along Privet Drive; at the house carrying the number four, under the stairs, in the cramped cupboard sat a child, sitting on a mattress- too small for them.
They were scared of the others that lived in the house, the monsters that lived in the big rooms with proper beds and didn’t even want the boy to be here. They made that fact known.
He was terrified of their fists being raised at him for something he didn’t do, terrified of their belt that’s used when he does something he shouldn’t’ve, the things he does that are labelled ‘weird’, ‘crazy’, and ‘magic’.
The slashes on his back stinged with pain, the blood leaked down his back. His head hurt from where Dudley grabbed his hair and threw him into the wall, his face: swollen from a well-aimed punch into his eye.
Harry was used to the stinging, he embraced the pain a while ago.
He didn’t like being alone. He used to have a teddy- it was an egotistical eggplant-purple with highlights of Iris-Lilac, its eyes matched his, the same shade of electric emerald green. Aunt Petunia threw Aquilotus- his dragon -into the fireplace to be lit ablaze. He tried to save her… the skin on his arms blistered, he smelt the burning flesh, his hand felt numb, Aunt Petunia grabbed him back with a weird look on her face that Harry couldn’t place.
She held a room temperature wet cloth to his hand while she berated him. Her hands gently scaled his burns with great care, placing a gel, that stung, onto his injuries before she wrapped his arm in a bandage.
She went to ruffle his hair, he flinched back. A look of guild graced Petunia ‘s face, within the second her mask of indifference returned.
Later that day, when Harry sneaked out of the cupboard, he couldn’t find the remains of Aquilotus. He returned to his ‘room’, curled up into a ball and silently cried.
That was his best friend.
He missed his best friend.
He’s lonely.
…
It was mid winter, the grass was covered in a layer of frost.
The icy wind rustled and messed up Harry’s hair, he knows it’s usually a bird’s nest but now it’s blowing in his face! Whilst he was weeding the garden and sheering the bushes!
Aunt Petunia was craning her neck over the fence, seemly trying to spy on someone but by the way she kept glancing around, she couldn’t find the person she was looking for. She let out a soft sigh as she turned to face the 6-year old child. A crease appeared on her forehead by the furrowing of her eyebrows. Harry knew he was in trouble.
She went inside. Harry let out a small breath, ‘not in trouble then’ his thoughts piped up. He swiftly returned to checking for weeds around the lilies and petunias, he wondered if Aunt Petunia was named after the flowers, he assumed so. He then thought about how he got his name, was it his full name? He truly he was named ‘boy’ for a while.
She returned to the garden holding a pair of scissors.
Harry stilled, trying to think about what he did wrong, and why he had to cut the grass with scissors again.
“Come here, child.”
Harry ran over quickly, head down, ready for his punishment,
“Eyes to the sky” Petunia muttered
He followed the orders immediately.
She then brought up the scissors.
Harry prepared for the pain… he waited… and waited… and waited…
Snip. Snip. Snip.
He opened his eyes to hair fluttering down to the earth. Harry was confused, ‘what’s going on’.
“Turn around.”
Harry stumbled around, he stared around the garden. A smile pulled at his lips, he was proud of his work. He glanced up at Aunt Petunia when the snipping stopped. No hair fell into his eyes when the wind blew.
His eyes sparked and his smile widened, “Thank you Aunt Petunia!”, he gave a second-long hug before running back to the flower patch.
The woman stood there for a moment, thoroughly confused. Her brain caught up and a gentle smirk appeared on her face.
She reset her face to neutral as she went back inside the house.
When Harry returned to the flowers, he noticed the fallen lily and petunias. He looked around the perfect well-kept plants. Everything seemed good, so he chose to star making a flower crown.
He weaved the stems together: the single lily lay front and centre, surrounded by a gradient of red to pink petunias flowing outwards captured the lily’s white-orange magnificence exactly right to shine.
He ran inside, wrote a short note on a napkin, and wandered upstairs. He laid the present outside Petunia (and Vernon’s…) door, only they were home right now so he knocked on the door with three quick taps and sprinted down the stairs, entering his cupboard in record time.
He heard the creak of the door opening, he heard the shuffling of feet, he heard…crying? Was his gift that bad…
“Sorry Auntie” he whispered to himself, he really thought it was perfect! Will anything he do be even close to good enough to repay how kind Auntie is compared to Dudley and Vernon?
The door upstairs creaked and with a slam, shut.
Harry just sat with himself for a few minutes, then his mind reminded him of the tools in the garden he needs to put away, before Vernon returns.
He made his way outside, picked up the sheers and gloves he dropped and returned them to their places in the shed.
On his way back to the house, a glimmer of light caught his eye.
He obviously sneaked over to investigate. He scrounged around trying to find the shiny thing and ended up finding… an egg? But not a normal chicken egg. It was a black, rough-textured egg. It had four petal-like scales the reaches up to a soft weak point of the egg, for when it hatches? At least that’s what Harry assumes.
He needs to do research! What do eggs need to hatch?
He frequently visits the library nearby, but he needs Aunt Petunia’s permission… what if she’s still upset…but what about the egg…
Harry let out a frustrated growl that sounded more like a ‘hurumph’.
He didn’t know what to do.
What would Dudley NOT do?
He would definitely throw a tantrum and shouting he is going to the library (he would never take a step into there) without ever asking, he would scream, cry and throw his hands around.
So Harry climbed back up the stairs, takes a deep breath in front of Petunia’s bedroom door and knocked.
He heard shuffling before the door opened. She wasn’t wearing the flower crown but Harry could see it sitting on her nightstand by a…moving? photo.
“What boy?” The words were aggressive but the tone was gravelly.
Harry shuffled from foot to foot, “I…uh wanted to…go to the library…is that…okay?”
She gave a short nod and closes the door in Harry’ face.
.
He made his way into the library, greeted the librarian and wondered around in the non-fiction animal anatomy section. After a while on scanning books, he found one completely about eggs; bird eggs, reptile eggs, platypus eggs, fish eggs, frog eggs, turtle eggs. As well as what each species of egg needs to hatch and pictures of the different eggs!
He was bouncing up and down on the way to a free table.
He carefully opened the book and scanned through the pictures- trying to find one that looks like the egg he has in his oversized (Dudley’s old) hoodie’s single pocket.
He couldn’t find anything. Absolutely nothing.
He felt like crying, he just wanted to help the egg. And he couldn’t find anything!
He’s chosen to just make it all up, it’s easier than following instructions that might not work!