Chapter Text
"Wake up, boy!" Uncle Vernon yells. The young boy, Harry, zones out on the door way in front of him for a moment, forgetting where he is. Uncle Vernon slams open the door, although careful not to dent the wall of their perfect house. Uncle Vernon grabs Harry by the hand, and drags him out the door. Aunt Petunia stares at Harry sadly, almost regretfully.
Harry frowns, and rubs the sleep out of his eyes with one small hand, which also carries his blankie. "Where're we goin'?" Harry asks. It's never something small when the Dursleys take him somewhere other than Nanny Fig's house, they never cared to take him anywhere else.
"We're finally getting rid of you nasty little arse!" Uncle Vernon says with a snort. "Bout' time!" Uncle Vernon lets go of Harry outside of the car door, and pushes him in, almost desperate. He jumps into the front seat.
"Where'll I go, Uncle Vernon?" Harry asks, snuggling into his small, red and gold blanket. He notices that Aunt Petunia is standing in the doorway, staring at Harry. She's in her pristine apron, holding a spatula. She's frowning.
"You're bastard father woke up!" Uncle Vernon said, a glimmer of delight behind his eyes. He reminded Harry somewhat of a pig like in one of Dudleys books.
Harry couldn't help but be excited. Maybe his father would take him to the park! Or feed him a huge, delicious meal! He could get a fluffy blanket, and a new room. He could read in the living room, books galore. His father might push him on the swings, or give him a brand new christmas gift!
Harry was so excited.
The drive felt so long. Harry watched as trees rushed by, as they drove past Nanny Figs house, and all of the other picture-perfect houses in the neighborhood. Harry was able to buzz out Uncle Vernon's ranting about Harry. Soon, they arrived at a small clothes shop, called 'The Magic Petite'. Uncle Vernon wasn't the type to shop for Harry, so he was confused.
"Get out, now, boy!" Uncle Vernon shouted. Harry, no questions asked, jumped out of the car. You don't doubt Uncle Vernon. Harry could only hope this was some Dursley-esque prank. He watched Uncle Vernon's car as it sped away! He held his blanket in hand, and searched for an answer.
To his surprise, a small, portly man walked out of the shop, and asked, "Harry?"
Harry nodded.
"My name is Mad Eye Moody, and I'll show you to your father." Harry questioned the safety of this endeavor, but decided he had nowhere else to turn. Madeye nodded at him, then started to walk into the clothes shop.
As soon as the both of them walked through the door, it turned into a magnificent, clean lobby. Two women in blue cloaks sat at the reception desk. A few people sat in waiting chairs, each in weird condition. One man had hair sprouting all over his body. Literally. One had a giant pimple the size of a hand, just on the tip of her nose.
As Moody walked through the doors, he seemed to relax. His appearance changed from a put-together man into one that seemed to have gone crazy! One eye was missing, and he had a stump of wood instead of a leg. Truly a pirate.
"Well, c'mon then, Harry!" Moody began to walk away exceptionally fast again (at least within the context of the man's missing leg), his steps forming a fast pattern. Pit, PAT, pit, PAT, pit, PAT! The sound was only exemplified through the halls, forming an echo. Harry had so many questions for the man, although he had learned not to ask questions many whiles ago.
Why does Moody only have 1 eye? How did he lose his leg? What did his father wake up from? Where're they going? How much farther? What's his father like? Is he ill? Is his mum alive too? Many more along those lines. Yet he didn't ask.
Soon, they reached a ward labeled 'Long-Term Comatose'. As Harry walked in, he realized there were many patients in here, all sleeping, but only one was awake. Anyone would be able to tell they were father and son.
His fathers hair was so messy and curly (just like his son.) His skin seemed to be an auburn color, (just like his son). He had rectangular glasses resting on his tired face. He appeared so tired. His eyes were red and puffy from crying. His eyes were a dark brown, though, contrasting Harry's green eyes.
Moody patted Harry on the back in the direction of his father.
Neither of the Potters seemed to know what to say.
Harry decided he would be the first to speak. "When will we go home? Where?"
His father shrugged and stared down at his thin fingers, resting atop his white hospital bed. A nurse, on queue, stepped out of a connected office.
–
"Well, James, are you ready to go?" James nodded, standing up from his bed and grabbing his bags, not sparing Harry a glance. It was too much of a struggle to look at Harry. That piercing, beautiful gaze of Lily’s, staring at him through Harry. It was too much.
He supposed they would move into one of the Potter Family vacation homes located in Italy, which he had never visited. It was one of the homes that would provide the least amount of memories, the easiest on him.
Harry stood up, his tattered blanket in hand, and followed James. The nurse guided them to a fireplace. James tossed the fine, green Floo dust into the fire, and shouted the address of the vacation home. Harry entered just behind him, following along.
—
Harry gawked at the size of the home. It seemed like a mansion. Large and sleek, yet homey. The inside was decorated with mostly red, gold, and black, but there were many plants that added an extra pop of color. The home was decorated with a maximalist sort of style, stacks of books and all sorts of things on nearly every surface.
"Patty!" the elder man shouted. A small elf popped in front of James. The elf appeared small and old and tired. They didn't look too friendly, but Harry decided not to assume. Harry had many questions, such as: 'what is this creature?' yet knew not to ask."Will you show Harry where the Guest room is?"
"Of course, Mr. Potter," The small creature had a glint of happiness in its beady little eyes. "Patty's is very happies to serve a Potters again... It has been so long..!" James only nodded at this, which Harry thought seemed quite rude, after Patty showed such excitement at seeing him.
Patty started to climb the staircase, guiding Harry along. "This is your bedroom, Mr. Potter. I musts go now."
The elf left.
Harry walked into an impressively sized room. It had a magnificent bed, with a tacky quilt atop it. There was a velvet sofa in front of a foot board, facing a fireplace. Next to it was a recliner that looked as if it could fit 2 grown men. There was a desk under the window, which had drooping red curtains. They reminded him of those you would find in a movie theater.
There were bookshelves all over the room, cluttering most of the space. Harry was glad he had walked to the library as much as possible. Along with reading a lot at school. He did know that he was top of his class when it came to English. Now he had an infinite number of books to read.
To his surprise, there was a small bathroom attached to the room. With a shower inside. This home was a luxury he didn't think he would be able to have ever, at least when he lived with the Dursleys. Castles and mansions and loving families always seemed as if they were only stories.
Yet, it seemed he was living one now.
He had been dreaming of this life he was beginning for so long now. One of big, comfy beds. A loving father and a family. A large home surrounded by other large homes, nearing the city. All of a sudden, it was all in front of his eyes. On display in front of him, within reach.
Harry laid on the large bed. Tucking himself under the blanket. Under the covers he felt so safe. The quilt had a certain smell attached to it. Of sugar, oatmeal and forest wood. He sunk further into the bed, and turned off the lights.
Harry sniffled, and his eyes became teary and wet. A lone tear streamed down his face, and he smiled. He had gotten what he wished for. In a night, or a day. Yes, his father hadn't talked to him much at all yet, but surely he would tomorrow. After a good night's sleep. Harry was always cranky when he was tired, it was probably the same for his father.
After a long night's sleep, Harry woke up to a bird’s song outside his window. The room was warm and bright with natural light. He almost forgot about the events of yesterday, and thought he woke up in a dream. He felt as if he did regardless. This is what he had dreamed of all along.
He walked downstairs into the kitchen, and found his father sitting at the dining table, fallen asleep. Harry dared not wake him up. He instead whispered the name, "Patty?" with no response.
Harry figured he couldn't eat anything without his fathers permission, so he waited at the table for his father to wake up. 20 minutes had passed, and still no response, so he walked back up to his room. He grabbed a book to read, and sat at his desk. The book was about a lonely princess who sat up in a tower, when a prince came to save him. He got 2 chapters in when his stomach began to grumble.
He decided to go downstairs and check if his father was awake. He was.
"Can I eat some Breakfast?" Harry asked his father, timidly. His father looked down at Harry from his coffee.
"Do whatever the hell you want, I don't care." the older man stated. Harry searched the cupboard and found a couple packs of oatmeal, a luxury he had always wished for at the Dursleys, but could never actually eat. He turned the kettle on, just like he had at the Dursleys. He poured the boiling water into the bowl of dry oatmeal, and watched as the grain softened. He found cinnamon from the cabinet, which Aunt Petunia had always asked for on her food.
Harry grabbed a spoon, and sat across from his father at the dining table. As Harry opened his mouth to speak, his father glanced up at him, then retreated up the stairs, leaving Harry utterly alone.