Work Text:
I awake with the sunrise and dress quickly, tucking my wand into the waistband of my jeans. With a ratty t-shirt and a button-up over it, nobody can tell that I'm carrying my most precious possession. I comb my hair quickly, wincing every time it catches on a knot. My long hair makes me look like a proper wizard, but brushing and washing it are torture, so I put it off as long as I can manage. It helps that the bills for the water are behind, so nobody gives me guff about shirking on my bathing habits. After cursing at a particular bastard of a knot in my hair, I toss my comb back on the bedside table. I make sure to grab my canvas bag, which contains my books, pens, and notebook, then lace up my boots.
I glance at the calendar I swiped from the auto body shop down the block. The sign had said "Free," I just made sure to ignore the "for customers" that followed it. I run another line through the sixth of July, and flip the page up to count the days until I'll finally be free of this hellish existence.
I've circled the first of September and even doodled a little owl in the middle. Its eyes stare back at me in silent judgment and I let the calendar pages drop.
'Oh, why can't summer be over yet?' I think to myself, my rising irritation coinciding with the growling gurgle in my hungry belly.
It's already starting to heat up in the stuffy little upstairs closet I call my bedroom. As my Da likes to say, "the row houses on Spinner's End were built to be so uncomfortable, that the mill workers would look forward to clocking in."
I can hear him snoring on the couch downstairs. He's been coming home later and later from the pub every night since the summer holidays started. Every day, my parents have another row, and it's plain from the greasy divots in the threadbare couch that Da hasn't been going to bed for some time. Mum may not use her wand against him, but she's not above warding the bedroom door to keep him out.
I have to keep reminding myself that it won't be my concern any longer the moment I'm on the train. My mind keeps flashing back to those overheard slurred threats to "punch that nancy Headmaster in the gob."
I am fairly certain that Headmaster Dumbledore won't blame me if my Da were to confront him, but what if he does?
He can't stop me from going to Hogwarts. He can't!
I realize I'm breathing so fast that I'm beginning to feel lightheaded. I have to ball my hands into fists and force myself to breathe slowly, just like Lily taught me. Her mum and dad are into "self-actualization" and "meditating." I've scoffed plenty of times about it, but the shameful truth is that I'd secretly love having parents that gave me bran muffins and got all mushy with hugs and stuff.
Finally, I can open my eyes again, my feet finding all of the places on the floor that don't squeak as I move slowly towards my door and crack it open by shifting it on the hinges so they won't squeak. I poke my nose out and freeze, listening to every little sound that is echoing up the stairs. I hear the telltale creak of my father shifting on the couch, his snores stuttering a bit before he settles and begins to imitate a chainsaw once more. A small sound- I place it as his boot catching a glass bottle as his leg twitches in sleep. It rolls a little and then goes still. I slowly move onto the landing and close the door, turning the knob and holding it so that it doesn't click as the latch twists back into place. I turn to face the stairs, knowing from years of trial and error which ones squeak and protest under my weight. I ignore the banister altogether. It's a variable I don't need to add to the list of things I need to worry about. I'm light on my feet in the boots, despite them being a bit too big for me. Mum says that I'll fill them out soon enough, but I know that's just her way of softening the blow of not having any money.
Luckily for me, there's a library I can walk to in town, so I can borrow whatever books I want without spending a penny. Who cares about ratty old clothing when there's knowledge to be gained? Mum scolds me for being so bookish and says I'm "precocious," but I can see her hiding a smile when she says it, so it can't mean anything too bad.
I make it to the foot of the stairs without incident, and I keep my back to the wall as I scoot towards the kitchen. Da looks like hell, but I'd never say that to his face. He's wearing a sweat-stained shirt that's open in the front, showing off his hairy chest. There's drool dribbling down his face and pooling on the couch cushion. He's like a sleeping giant, knocked out cold by a potion. I just wish the potion in question kept him out instead of leaving him even angrier and more violent than ever when he wakes up.
I remember when he used to apologize. It's been a long time since he's done that.
This only doubles my resolve to get out of the house as soon as possible so I can be free of his wrath, if only until dark. Maybe I can look at the book on potions Mum finally let me have and find something to deal with Da.
I look at the clock by the couch. It's a tall, old thing that must have been Mum's because of the extra arms that point to names I don't recognize, but it hasn't been wound, so it doesn't do me any good in figuring what time it is.
I sneak a glance at the doorway to the kitchen and tiptoe my way through. I know already that there isn't much for breakfast, and even if I did try to fix myself something, there's no guarantee it won't wake Da and send him storming in to take a swing at me for disturbing him while he's trying to sleep off his drink.
In the end, I inch open the back door and flee into the back garden, hopping over the sagging fence and I'm free to make my way to my favorite place in the world.
The library isn't in Spinner's End. In fact, it's closer to the main center of the town. There's a post office, a couple of grocery shops, a butcher, a bakery, a cafe, and a small theater that puts on plays and live shows that I've never seen because we don't have the money for it. Sometimes, Lily and I will sneak around back and listen to the music if the backstage door is left propped open, but it's not the same as having a real seat in the audience. One day, I'm going to use magic and get the best seat in the house. I'll bet Lily will come, too.
My daydreaming is interrupted by the tolling of the clock in the nearby square. I'm sitting on a bench in the little park across from the library, waiting for it to open. I'm a bit early, but it's better than being home. I can breathe out here, even though I can hardly wait to go through those tall, wooden doors and breathe in the combined scent of paper, leather, and dust that signifies the safety of the stacks. My foot bounces up and down nervously, and I try to ignore the gnawing pain in my stomach. Sometimes the cafe owner will take pity on me and let me sweep the floor or bus tables for a snack, but when I went by earlier, the register was being managed by his awful brother, who thinks I'm some sort of urchin looking to pickpocket the customers.
My stomach continues to protest, even as the clock finally chimes the hour and I see the librarian fiddling with the locks from the inside of the building and turning the CLOSED sign to OPEN.
"Hullo, Sev!" I nearly jump as Lily's voice suddenly appears in my left ear. I turn and there she is, grinning and holding a rucksack that is nearly full to bursting. She hands me something wrapped in a napkin and I unwrap it to find a warm bran muffin inside.
"Mum baked them this morning," she explains. "She made me take one with me for a snack, but I've had quite enough bran, thank-you-very-much."
Without a word, I eat the muffin with alarming speed, then suck on the napkin to relieve it of any crumbs. "Thank you, Lily," I say, finally, the concept of manners finally returning to me.
"That's ok," she says, when I try to hand the napkin back. "You can have it."
I tuck it into my pocket with a shy smile. I'm not one for smiling, but Lily has a way of bringing them out without hardly any effort. If I didn't already know she was a witch, I'd accuse her of being magical.
I know she's magical, though. Just like me.
"Mum and Dad got me all the books and supplies," Lily said excitedly, "however, they refused to let me go get my wand until a week before the term starts! Can you believe it? It's so unfair! And Dad says that I need to take care of Tunie's hedgehog for the next few months to prove that I'm responsible enough to take care of an owl!"
I give her my best sympathetic look. "Mum got me my wand for my birthday," I say, "but I'm still not allowed to use it. I did bring it, though. Just in case."
I pull it from its hiding spot and Lily breaks into a grin. "Please, Sev, can I touch it?"
I got a bit pink around the ears because a wand is a bit of a personal thing to borrow, but if there's anyone I trust, it's her. "Sure, but you can't let any Muggles see, and we can't do magic or we'll get in trouble."
She takes it carefully in her hand and then moves it gently in the air like a conductor. It responds a little to her movement with a small shower of sparks, but that's all.
"Thanks, Sev," she replies, handing it back to me, her cheeks flushed with pleasure. "I just needed to remind myself what's coming. It just…it makes it feel real."
I smile back as I tuck my wand away. "Let's find a table in the library and study together. After all, we want to be ready when we get to Hogwarts."
She grins and takes my hand, swinging it back and forth like a jump rope. "Yes, let's!"
Each lazy summer day is fraught with moments of dread and avoiding home as much as I dare. I know it's not safe after dark for an eleven-year-old kid to be in the street, but the summer days are long and I find myself chasing shadows back home, hiding in them until I know that the coast is clear. Mum doesn't say much these days. Her sad eyes are red-rimmed and I saw dark bruises around her wrist when the sleeve on her jumper shifts as she's serving me some watery soup for supper. She won't use magic against him, though. She's told me time and time again that it's against the law to cast spells on Muggles. I just can't help but wonder if maybe there are exceptions to the rule if the Muggle is really horrible.
The way that Da has been acting these past weeks would qualify, I think.
Finally, after what seems like an eternity of hungry mornings, dread-filled journeys to escape the house before my father awakens, and moments by Lily's side dreaming of how amazing our lives in the magical world will be, it is time! The night before I leave to go to Hogwarts! I can't sleep tonight for more than one reason. I tell myself it's because I need to pack my trunk, but that's a lie. I've had it packed since I got my letter. No, what truly keeps me up is the awful racket going on below me. Mum and Da are having a terrible row, and it's so loud this time, I can nearly make out each word that they're yelling at each other. I don't want to repeat any of the words, not even in my head in case Mum somehow finds out and washes my mouth out with soap. But the word "freak" and the phrase "no son of mine" is used more than a few times as my father rages on, throwing things and cursing my mother for every wrong that has ever befallen him.
There's a moment when a loud noise of something falling shakes the house followed by silence, and I very nearly rush out the door to see what the matter is, though Mum has made me promise never to leave my room, no matter what, once Da returns at night. I get down onto my hands and knees, my ear to the floorboards, holding my breath as I listen carefully for any sound in the room below.
Then, I hear something I never expected. Mum's soft voice, speaking in a soothing manner, though I can't make out the words. There's another sound, one that I haven't heard in a long time. It's the sound of Da trying to muffle his sobs. This goes on for a long time. A soft shushing and the muffled cries, but eventually, I hear Mum's quiet tread and Da's heavy, stumbling steps as they go up the stairs together.
"They can't take my boy! They can't!" Da whimpers, then, and my heart seems to stop until I hear the sound of the bedroom door closing.
When I can finally breathe normally again, I look once more at my stolen calendar. The little owl I drew at the beginning of summer stares back, its gaze no longer judging me. You're on your way, it seems to say. My mind is filled with thoughts of the coming day and what it will bring. What House will I be Sorted into? I hope it's Slytherin, just like my Mum. I hope Lily is in Slytherin too, so we can always be together.
As soon as I slip into my narrow bed, I am surprised at how heavy my eyes have become. My body seems to sag into the thin mattress as though I am full of sleep. My thoughts slow and I feel myself halfway to dreaming. Tomorrow may be a big day, but tonight is just another night waiting for my real life to begin. It is a relief to finally close my eyes.