Chapter Text
When Harry Potter was five he learned a simple rule: fend for yourself. He had to get his own food now, his own baths, his own education because his aunt and uncle saw no reason to give a head start to a boy they were sure would amount to nothing. (He eventually started in what would be his second primary year.)
From age five, really starting closer to seven, he started to collect things he was sure he’d need. For a runaway, for a boy who needs a free afternoon, or for a boy who simply needs something other than mean words and a list of chores.
There were basics on his list: non-perishable food, water bottles, a flashlight, and a backpack. Then there was stuff that most seven year olds wouldn’t think of: extra clothes, stolen cash, stolen library card, a map of the city, country, and London, a list of hotlines to call, and everything in between.
He wasn’t just some boy running away from his family- he was some boy running away from his abusers. Things only got worse as he got older, starting with words filled with anger and brutality, to full on punches, to the ground.
Dudley, honestly, wasn’t terrible. He acted quite horrid in front of his parents- not wanting to deal with what Harry had dealt with for his whole life, but when the moment came for Harry to sneak out, Dudley handed him an extra pack with a cell phone and a stuffed wallet.
Harry hugged Dudley for the first time at age eight, and his cousin wished him good luck- and made sure of the knowledge: “I have that number on my other phone, I had Ms. Bott see if there was a tracker- there wasn’t, Harry, don’t die.” Harry choked back tears, even for all that Dudley had been a right and well bully to him, he understood.
“I’ll try my best.”
Four months after his eighth birthday, Harry sets out under the ruse of school and disappears from the little suburb he had called home.
--
He always knew he was weird, Harry thought, stepping onto the bus of another school’s stop- one that led to a spot right outside London (it was only about an hour’s walk from one place to the other), but he didn’t know he was so weird that even kids he didn’t know stared at him with wide eyes the size of planets.
Adjusting his jacket, Harry simply put his head to the window of the bus. Whatever, maybe it was because of his dark skin- Uncle Vernon wasn’t a fan, maybe it was the scar- Aunt Petunia’s least favorite physical attribute, or maybe it was the fact that he had two bookbags on him and round glasses with tape in the middle. Maybe he just looked like a huge nerd.
Yeah, Harry was going with that one.
Ten minutes into the ride, a boy with bright red hair grinned at him and hopped seats. “You’re Harry Potter! What are you doin’ on a bus to a muggle school? Have you no tutor? Or is your family obsessed with muggles too?”
Spinning his head so quick it nearly gave him whiplash, Harry asked, “How do you know m- that name?”
“You’re famous,” The boy leaned in close to him, “you know, in the wizarding world. Obviously. Don’t you know?”
This, Harry decided, was one of those people Uncle Vernon thought should go to the madhouse. Harry thought they should get therapy. But the idea stood. This boy was crazy.
“There’s no such thing as wizards,” Harry said as empathetically as he could. “Are you feeling quite alright?”
The boy’s eyes got wider. “Don’t tell me, ooh, not a word! You don’t know!? George, can you believe this?” There was a thunk from the seat behind the two of them, Harry glanced back to see- they looked exactly the same. Were they twins? Harry had to do a double take.
“Harry Potter doesn’t know? Geeze. We should right well tell him shouldn’t we? He’s dear Ronnikins age, they’d be in the same class- get him a bit of a buffer before the letter, aye?” The boy- George as it seemed, said.
Harry, point blank, was terrified. They hadn’t be much older than him, he suspected, perhaps a year or two, but….they were tall and he was small and they were nutters and no one in the back of the bus seemed to mind a word to what they were saying.
“I am just getting a pit stop to the library, your bus to school makes it a bit more convenient.” He quickly thought for a story for why he was there. Perhaps he should choose a pseudonym to go by until he finds a stable shelter or something of the sort. “I don’t think I’m the Harry Potter you’re thinking of.” He wracked his brain for names. “My full name is Harrien Anthony Potter-Kent. My, uh, dad was a fan of superheroes. His name was Bruce Kent so it made sense. Ha.” His palms were sweating he was only eight he wasn’t prepared for this.
The boy next to him- not George, whoever he was, leant in real close. “You have a lightning scar- how’d you get that?”
“Car accident,” He was thankful not to lie about that one.
“Fred, I think we just broke that Statue of Secrecy.” George said with a swear. “What’s the spell?”
“Oblivate!” Fred made a vague hand movement to Harry, evidently hoping that he would forget about it. Harry went along with it. “Uh, remember anything?”
“I don’t remember when you sat down, what’s your name? Mine’s Harrien- but everyone calls me Harry.” Harry gulped.
“Hi, I’m Fred, that’s George-” Fred pointed out.
“And we’re twins,” They said at the same time.
Harry prayed a thought of thanks to whatever god or gods listened to his need of help.
“Sweet.”
--
Harry, after that incident, did in fact make it to the library he was hoping to find- but he had missed the local services there that were supposed to help kids in bad situations. He didn’t want to call the hotline because phones can be intercepted- he saw it once in a movie. He doesn’t want Uncle Vernon to find him, gods above only know how bad he’ll be beaten for this play.
He decided eventually to just go to the kids’ section and work out a plan. Hopefully they’d just think he’s playing with maps.
The place was huge, and modern, so every wall seemed to have a window. It was a mix of light and dark colors, generally dulled reds and greens, but it...seemed almost suffocating.
Hours later, right around when it was truly silent for most people’s lunch break, a tall man came up to him with a librarian badge. He had light, curly brown hair, pale skin, and scars across his face. (He also wore a light blue sweater with dark green pants? Poor fashion.) He seemed so terribly familiar. And that wasn’t a good thing.
“Harry, do the Dursleys know you’re here?” The man said, sitting down next to him. Harry felt a wave of panic travel over him, and squeeze the air out of his lungs. “Harry?”
He was hardly able to breathe, so he quickly shook his head. This guy must have been- ugh, he didn’t know. A co-worker of Uncle Vernon’s for a while? A gardener next door? And oh no, he was going to get turned in and forced to go back and be beaten and-
“Harry Potter, take a deep breath, I won’t tell them for right now. Don’t panic,” The man pulled out a couple sweets from his bag. “Fancy a piece of chocolate? It’s said to be rather calming.”
Harry was still panicked, but under the assurance that the Dursleys wouldn’t be called quite yet, he took a deep breath and reached for the sweet. He was, he thought dryly, eight after all.
Once he and the man had finished their respective pieces of chocolate, Harry asked hesitantly, “Why aren’t you turning me in? I know you- which means you know the Dursleys.”
The man worried his lip for a moment before sighing. “I check in when I can Harry- I’m not a friend of your aunt or uncle, I was a friend of your fathers.”
Oh, swell, friend of the drunkard. That’s even more reassuring. Harry’s panic level was rising again. Well….if the Uncle Vernon was to be believed. (Perhaps the man deserved a chance.)
“And I know the Dursleys aren’t the best of people- I’ve been working a case against them for years, but no one seems to listen. My name’s Remus Lupin, when you were little, you’d call me Moony.”
Harry blinked, getting an odd image from a long time ago of a younger version of the man before him. It was blurry and old but...Familiar nonetheless.
“If….My father was a drunk, Mr. Lupin, I dunno if I should….” Harry trailed off- they were in a public place, but...there weren’t that many people around. It could be very dangerous.
“Your father wasn’t a drunk, Harry,” Remus’ voice seemed to catch. “He was a good man in terrible times. What did- what did your aunt and uncle tell you about your family?”
“Nothing good. They were bad people, freaks, like me…” Harry rubbed his wrist- a spot where just yesterday Uncle Vernon had dragged him by his wrist up the stairs to tell him to do chores and shout scathing insults.
When he looked up again, Remus looked like he was about to cry. “You’re not a freak, you are not a bad person- and neither were your parents. Lily and James Potter were some of the best people I’ve ever met…Have you ever had something odd happen to you, something you can’t explain?”
Harry didn’t know where this was going, but he went with it. Because, for some reason, he did truly feel safe with the man. Maybe it was just his demeanor, maybe it was because they really did use to be friendly when he was a baby. “Yes...Odd things happened, very odd...I understood a snake...I ended up on a rooftop while running on the ground.” He looked up sharply. “Don’t send me to a loony house, please, Mister. I’m not crazy.”
“I know, Harry, I know,” Remus nodded seriously. Even in the outrageously small kids chairs, the man looked as serious as he’d ever seen anyone. “It’s not….Because you’re crazy, it’s magic. Your mother and father were wizards.”
Harry thought back to the kids on the bus. Fred and George. “You’re the second person to tell me that today. Next you’re going to say I’m famous.”
“You are,” the man slowly, showing his intention clearly, rested his hand on Harry’s arm. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but you’re a wizard too. As am I, come to think of it.”
Harry was hesitant- who wouldn’t be? It was...Impossible to think about. “Prove it. Prove anything you just said. Everything.”
Remus looked conflicted for a moment before looking around, evidently deciding the coast was clear, pulling out a stick and pointing it at the wrapper. The wrapper turned into a pen. Then he promptly put the stick away and handed Harry the pen. “Magic.”
He then dug into his bag and pulled out his wallet, then a picture from it. A moving picture. The picture was of Remus himself, a man who looked an awful lot like Harry, and a baby in the guy-who-was-probably-his-father’s arms. They were all smiling. Even the baby version of himself. “James, you, and I. Three months after you were born...Believe me?”
Harry then burst out in tears. For a beat, Remus looked panicked, but opened his arms for Harry. With little hesitance, he fell into the hug and continued to cry. It was just...so much. Too much. Today he was expecting to get away from his terrible family, not run into two mini wizards, a tall wizard who was friends with his dad who seemed super nice, and find out he was a wizard all in the same blow. He had the right to cry.
“Shh, Harry, it’s alright. Hassan, we’ll work everything out. You’ll be safe. I’m sorry I didn’t try harder, but it’ll be fine now. Okay? James and Lily would be so proud.” Remus said quietly, rubbing circles on Harry’s back. It took a few minutes for Harry to calm down, but eventually he pulled away and apologized.
“There’s no need to apologize. I- let me tell my boss I need the rest of the day off, then we’ll go straight to the police station and work something out.” Remus stood up and offered a hand to Harry, who gave him a face. “Alright, I should have suspected from the map and the prepared bags- you don’t need someone to hold your hand. Follow me?”
Harry picked up his bags and nodded. “I...We’re walking to the police station, right? Broad daylight.”
Remus nodded. “If you want I can even call them directly here, I...I know I’m a stranger to you. But you’re- you’re James son, and, pardon me, but I’ll be damned before I let you go back to those horrid muggles.”
Muggles sounded an awful lot like a slur. “No, I can walk. Whatsa’ muggle?” They didn’t get too many odd looks from the people around them- in fact, he was pretty sure they just thought he should be in school.
“A muggle is a person who doesn’t have magic, Americans call them no-majs, it’s like...being white or black, right? It’s something you’re born into. No better nor worse than anyone else, just a fact of life...Don’t let anyone fool you into thinking otherwise.”
Harry was mildly confused, but generally understood. “If you knew about my family, why didn’t you do something sooner?”
They turned a corner. “It’s a bit complicated, I’m afraid. I was building a case...But I didn’t know how bad it was, I tried to call social services a great many times but those-” He cut himself off before he said something terrible. “They fed you lies and nothing else, didn’t they? I- I should have done something sooner I should have-”
“You at least tried,” Harry whispered, but it seemed to echo, making Remus spin around. With wide, teary again eyes, Harry said, “You tried and you wanted to help, you noticed, you did something, that’s- that’s more than anyone’s ever done for me. Don’t beat yourself up so much.”
Remus took a deep breath and kneeled down in front of Harry, both of them right in front of his boss’ office, in fact through the window his boss was probably watching them. “I tried. Yes. And I have only seen you in passing for two years since I’ve discovered where you were, I never once stopped by to talk to you, I should have, I should have...offered myself a babysitter to you and your cousin. Claim to be a muggle myself. I need you to understand that...I’m not always the best person about this, I try my best, I really do, but I’m god-awful at it. You deserve so much more than what you’ve gotten. Your parents would have wrung my neck.”
Harry took a shaky breath and nodded. Not quite believing that he deserved more. He- he didn’t deserve some things the Dursleys did, he knew that, but some things…
“I’m going to try and redeem myself. I...I think I’m listed as some third or fourth godparent. I’ll- I’ll take care of you Harry, just as soon as we can get a court jurisdiction and- nevermind. You’re only eight, you- I’ll handle it. Don’t worry anymore, okay?” Remus’ brown eyes shone bright with tears.
Harry looked at the pen in his hand, then back up at Remus. “Promise me, promise me that you aren’t lying. That you aren’t giving me false hope.”
[Remus’ heart broke in half. No one should have to say something so- so potent in the face of the future.]
“I cross my heart and swear to die,” Remus said, making the hand motions.
Harry handed him the pen. “Then we better talk to your boss.”
--
Half an hour later Remus and Harry sat side by side at the police station where a young officer, a short black man named Rey, took their statements and gave Harry a PB&J- food that Remus learned was Harry’s first meal in days.
Rey spoke softly and made kind jokes and made Harry laugh. He also spoke to Remus separately, asking him how everything went down from his perspective, but only for a short while because Remus’ eyes kept glancing back to where Harry was.
Harry...Harry when he was by himself had to take deep breaths to stay calm, his hands white-knuckled on either side of his chair. It...It was a lot. It was all very overwhelming and he didn’t really know how to handle it. His instincts said to trust Remus. To trust Rey. They were the same instincts that kept him alive until then.
Thankfully, when Remus and Rey came back, Harry managed to get a grip on his emotions. “Social services should be here within the hour- they’ve already pulled up information on the lot of you. They ask that you stay in the building until they can get here...It looks good. With both of your testimonies, plus any previous reports, it’s...A solid case. Harry, you’re a 100% sure that your cousin wasn’t affected?”
Harry nodded, “I’m pretty sure. They didn’t like me because of my dad, Dudley’s...white, I guess.” And not a wizard, which turned out to be a big reason, Remus had explained to him. But he thought of the comparison to muggles and well…
Rey had a pinched look on his face, but nodded. “I’m glad you got out, kid. Want anything else before I go and file this?”
Harry looked over at Remus, then shyly looked back at Rey. “Do you hav’a cuppa? I...Stress.”
“Not a problem. Two cubes and milk?”
“Please.”
Once Rey disappeared, Harry turned to Remus and had the sudden urge to just- sit closer. Be closer. To- he had more hugs that day than he’d had in what felt like years. Maybe it was. Remus’ blue sweater was very comfy, and he was warm and the place was freezingandhe-
“You alright, Hassan?” Remus asked softly, but somehow still easily heard despite the chaos of the coppers.
Harry looked down at his feet- decent shoes, actually, Dudley outgrew them really quick. “Ijustkindahaven’tbeenhuggedalotanditwasniceandIkindawantahug.”
“You are such a Potter, but I swear, you picked up some of S--” Remus flinched as if he had been hit. “--Some of your other godfather’s habits. I have no hesitation to hugging you, come here.”
Remus opened his arms and Harry happily slid into them, laying across the two chairs to lay down a bit.