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It was already late when Harry was finally done with weeding the garden.
He normally would have done this earlier in the day, but Aunt Marge was visiting today, and Harry did not want to be around her for long. Because of that, he had intentionally held off on the weeding he was supposed to do, and Aunt Petunia had banished him from the house until he finished.
Wiping the sweat off his face, Harry made his way towards the backdoor to go to bed. However, as he turned the doorknob, the door did not swing open. It was locked.
Harry bit back a groan. It was not unusual for either Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia to lock the doors at night, but Harry had never been locked out before. Part of Harry wondered if they just forgot he was out here or if they did it on purpose.
Looks like I’ll be sleeping out here, he thought grimly, looking at the weather.
It was already dark out, making it hard to see, but to make it worse, there was a mist covering the area. Harry, with his already poor vision, was having a terrible time seeing. He started walking to the fence he knew was there, and then he just… kept walking.
Harry was left confused. He was still moving, but he should have hit the fence already. He hadn’t yet. Harry squinted his eyes and tried to see where he was. With a gulp, he realized he was lost.
Harry was only eight years old, and the Durleys never let him out much, only to go to school. Because of that, he didn’t even know the street he lived on.
Faced with this fact, Harry didn’t know what to do. Did he keep going or try to go back? Would he be able to get back? Did he want to go back?
Harry knew that the way the Durleys treated him wasn’t right. Seeing how they treated Dudley proved that, and even though he wasn't their son, he was still their nephew. They should at least treat him like the family he is.
Weighing this in his mind, Harry came to a decision. He wasn’t going back to the Dursleys.
Harry continued walking for a while after that. He didn’t know where he was going or where he even was, but he knew he needed to get as far away as possible.
The area was still misty, and Harry feared it would rain soon. Harry didn’t know how long it had been, but he hoped the weather would clear soon so he could find some place to rest for a while.
As late as it was, Harry didn’t expect to see anyone out, which is why he ran into someone instead.
Harry was knocked to the ground with a wince. He got up right away, rubbing at the ache in his back. He looked up at the person he ran into, who looked amused as he looked down at him.
It was a man. Harry knew little about attraction, but he had seen a bit on Aunt Petunia’s soap operas to say that he was attractive to other adults. The man had wavy brown hair that went below his ear and dark, brown eyes.
“Are you okay, little one?” the man said, his voice deep and soothing.
“Y-yes,” Harry stuttered out, “Are you?”
The man let out a chuckle at that. “I don’t think you could do much to hurt me.”
Harry blushed at that. It was true after all. What could a child do to a grown man?
“I’m sorry about that sir,” Harry said, looking down.
Harry missed how the man paused at seeing his scar. It was silent for a moment before the man spoke again.
“It’s fine, child. What are you doing out so late? It’s dangerous, especially for a child like you,” the man said, crouching down to inspect Harry.
“I’m lost,” Harry admitted easily.
It was true, at least at first. He wouldn’t tell the man that he intentionally got lost now.
“Do you want me to take you back?” the man asked.
“No!” Harry blurted out before covering his mouth.
He didn’t want to go back. Harry was finally free, and he wouldn’t allow anyone to take that from him. He was getting ready to run when the man reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.
“It’s alright,” the man said firmly, “I won’t take you back if you don’t want to. Tell me, do your relatives treat you well?”
Harry hesitated to answer. On one hand, maybe the man wouldn’t take him back if he knew about the abuse. On the other hand, Harry didn’t know if the man would believe him. No one did whenever he found the courage to tell someone, and then he would get an even worse punishment from Uncle Vernon.
The man seemed to sense his hesitation as he said, “Whatever you say, I’ll believe you.”
The dam seemed to burst at those words. Harry told everything to the man, and he seemed to take Harry seriously, nodding at everything he said and encouraging him when he stopped. It took a bit, but by the time Harry was done, the man looked furious. Harry could tell it wasn’t aimed at him.
The man took a deep breath to center himself before speaking once again.
“Would you like to come with me instead?”
The offer shocked Harry. This man, who Harry had just met but who had shown more care than Harry ever knew, was offering his home. Harry knew he should be more cautious, considering the whole stranger-danger thing, but he was tired.
He was finally free, but he had nowhere to go. He had been walking for who knows how long, and he just wanted a safe place to rest. A place where he wouldn’t get beaten or forced to do so many chores.
“Are you sure?” Harry asked the man, just to make sure he heard correctly.
The man nodded. “Of course. You will be safe in my home. Those… people will never bother you again.”
It sounded too good to be true. Harry, more than anything, wanted it to be true. He nodded, choking on the words he wanted to say. He felt something drip from his face and realized with a start that he was crying.
The man seemed surprised too but quickly held his arms out for a hug. Harry gratefully fell into those arms, still crying. The man whispered soothing words to him and rubbed his back.
Harry eventually ran out of tears and was embarrassed to find himself hugging the stranger. He tried to wriggle out of the stranger’s hold, but the arms around him tightened. Before he knew it, he was being picked up.
“What’s going on?” Harry asked, confused.
The man smiled at Harry. “We’re going home. Before we do, what’s your name, child?”
The man already seemed to know the answer, but Harry answered anyway.
“I’m Harry Potter, sir.”
“Harry Potter,” the man repeated. “A good name. My name is Tom Riddle, but you can just call me Tom. I think we’re going to get along very well, Harry Potter.”
The words carried a certain weight to them, but Harry honestly didn’t care about that. He was going to leave with this man — with Tom — because with him, Harry finally found a home.