Chapter Text
Tick, tick, tick.
It was 5 minutes till midnight, the watch's hands moving at a slow pace. The watch wasn't his. It was his cousins that he managed to keep. The boy's cousin had gotten a new, better, stylish watch within a month and had promptly forgotten about his old one. The boy’s cousin did that quite frequently, receive a gift then demand a new better one after the novelty of the gift wore off. But it didn’t matter, the boy cherished it dearly.
The boy in question was Harry Potter. And Harry Potter was a wizard.
Though, nowadays he didn't feel like a wizard. And to be truthful, Harry wouldn't have believed he was a wizard if it wasn't for the wand placed on his bedside table and the books about transfiguring inanimate objects. But he couldn’t turn his lumpy mattress into a luxury bed, he couldn’t even use his wand outside Hogwarts until he was 17. And even if Harry was desperate enough to use magic outside school, he didn’t want to risk it. Harry's maternal aunt and uncle despised anything and everything to do with magic, even the mere mention of the word ‘magic’ would have his uncle turning red, his aunts cowering, and his cousin leaving the room, fiercely clenching his behind.
Harry looked out the window, to the perfectly cut lawns of Privet Drive and felt disappointed. This time last year he was holed up in a cabin in the middle of nowhere and a man the size of a christmas tree came barrelling in, telling him that he was a wizard. Almost immediately he was whisked away and shown a whole entirely different world that he had no idea existed, a world that he should have known about. He had gone to a magical school in September, had made a bunch of friends, and faced a bunch of dangerous stuff that no 11-year-old should be facing. And at the end of it all, was just dumped back at Privet Drive as if the following 10 months had never happened.
And he was inclined to believe it too. His friends had not sent him one piece of mail, not one. He could understand it from Draco, Pansy, and Theo, their parents might not agree with them conversing with Harry. But he didn't understand why Blaise, Daphne, and Hermione had not sent him any post. Their parents didn't hold any grudges towards Harry (not that he knew of). Every day he'd sit out on the front steps and just wait for an owl to come or even the normal Postal Service, but nothing. It was the end of July, a whole month had passed, and he had not gotten one lick word from his friends.
Was he upset? Yes, he was quite upset. He thought that after everything that had transpired 2 months ago, that they'd be friends, they'd stick together. But the minute they made it back to their homes, they just forgot about Harry, as if he was just erased from their memories. Some small part of him thought that maybe they were planning a surprise party for him, waiting till the minute it hit midnight, and they'd give him parcels. That they'd come see him and tell him it was just a big prank. But Harry doubted that was even true.
Sighing, he stood up from the windowsill he was perched on and got into bed, closing his eyes and trying to find sleep, but sleep didn't come as easily as it did nowadays. His dreams were haunted with a high pitched cold voice. The sound and smell of burning flesh, hands grabbing at his throat, and a piercing scream. More often than not, he'd wake up covered in sweat, breathing heavy, as if he ran a marathon. Harry would try to go back to bed, but nothing would work. It seemed like the nightmares were here to stay.
Ding
It was midnight, Harry was officially 12, and he had never felt more alone than he did right now. He supposed he should get some sleep. He tried to close his eyes, and he tried to think of absolutely nothing. And after a while, sleep took hold of him.
After a few hours of restless sleep, Harry was woken up by his aunt, knocking on his bedroom door repeatedly, demanding that Harry make the family food.
“Up, get up now boy! Breakfast won’t cook itself. Duddy wants his bacon done crispy and if you burn it there be hell to pay you understand?”
“Yes, Aunt Petunia.” he responded as he pulled off his covers to get himself ready. He put on one of Dudley’s old shirts. The only good that came out of wearing his cousins old clothes was that they weren't so close to his neck. After the events of the previous month, Harry had tried to avoid turtlenecks and collared shirts, they gave off the same feeling of Quirrell’s phantom hands choking him.
Maybe today won’t be terrible, maybe his relatives will leave him be.
His birthday sucked.
After accidentally saying the word ‘magic’, his uncle had gotten so angry with him that he could barely string words together, his aunt was dry heaving and trying (but failing) to pull Dudley into the chair he had fallen out of. Harry thought the reaction was over the top but after the encounter with Hagrid, he’d feel lightheaded by the mention of magic.
After gathering himself together, Uncle Vernon spoke up, “Good news Pet, The Masons’ are hinting at a deal if the dinner goes well! Now, we all remember our roles, yes? Petunia?”
“I will be in the lounge, welcoming them into our humble home.” Aunt Petunia said, opening her arms in a grand gesture with a whimsical smile on her face which Harry thought made her look odd.
“Yes, and you Dudley?”
“I’ll be waiting to open the front door and collect their coats.”
“Yes, but what will you say to them?” His father questioned.
“Welcome Mr and Mrs Mason. Let me take your coats.” Aunt Petunia started cooing, talking about how mature her little Dudley was. Finally, Uncle Vernon turned to look at Harry with a snarl on his large face, the hatred tangible.
“And what of you boy?”
“I’ll be in my room pretending that I don't exist.” Harry repeated the lines he was forced to remember for the past 2 weeks. How could he forget that the dinner was happening tonight?
“Exactly,” said Uncle Vernon nastily. “I will lead them into the lounge, introduce you, Petunia, and pour them drinks. At eight-fifteen —”
“I’ll announce dinner,” said Aunt Petunia.
“And, Dudley, you’ll say —”
“May I take you through to the dining room, Mrs. Mason?” said Dudley, offering his fat arm to an invisible woman.
“My perfect little gentleman!” sniffed Aunt Petunia.
“And you?” said Uncle Vernon viciously to Harry.
“I’ll be in my room, making no noise and pretending that I don't exist.” repeated Harry dully.
“Precisely. Now, we should aim to get a few good compliments in at dinner. Petunia, any ideas?”
“Vernon tells me you’re a wonderful golfer, Mr. Mason….Do tell me where you bought your dress, Mrs. Mason?”
“Perfect, Dudley?”
“How about — ‘We had to write an essay about our hero at school, Mr. Mason, and I wrote about you.’”
This was too much for both Aunt Petunia and Harry. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and hugged her son, while Harry ducked under the table so they wouldn’t see him laughing.
“And you, boy?”
Harry fought to keep his face straight as he emerged.
“I’ll be in my room, making no noise and pretending that I don't exist,” he said.
“You sure will. If the dinner goes well, I'll get the drill deal and our pockets will get much deeper than they are now.”
“Oh, and I’ll be able to buy that new living room set I've been looking at!” said Aunt Petunia.
“I want new toys!” Dudley demanded.
“Of course, my boy! And I’ll be able to take you to that new restaurant that opened in town. You can get anything from the menu. Growing boys need to eat after all!” His uncle looked so pleased with himself but Harry couldn’t help but snort.
“He sure doesn’t look like he needs it.” Harry caught himself but it was too late.
“What did you say boy?” His uncle had gotten closer, towering over Harry.
“N-Nothing Uncle Vernon.” Damn his large mouth.
Before his uncle could punch his lights out, Aunt Petunia stepped in and told Uncle Vernon that his knuckles could bruise, and the Mason’s would question it. After 15 minutes of yelling at Harry and telling him that he should be grateful that they even decided to take him in at all, His aunt decided that the backyard needed to be dealt with immediately and Harry found himself pulling out weeds whilst the sun was beating his back for the better half of the afternoon.
“This sucks so much.” Harry grunted as he tried to pull a particularly stubborn weed out with no luck. “Dudley breaks a fine China set and he gets let off, meanwhile I say one word and get saddled with weeds.”
“That does suck.”
Harry froze, looking around to see if someone had heard him. He looked around but there was no one nearby. But he could have sworn he heard something.
“Why do you look like that? Did you eat a bad mouse?” Harry looked down to where the voice was coming from and found himself staring at a snake. The snake was just laying there, not poised to attack, just staring at Harry as if it could understand him.
“I’ve lost my mind. I’ve been out so long I’m starting to imagine snakes talking to me.” He backed away from the grey snake, which just moved towards him. Harry couldn’t believe what was happening to him. He could hear the snake clearly and it could hear him, just like the Boa constrictor from the zoo.
“No, you haven't lost your mind, you can hear me, I want food.” The snake was roughly the length of his whole arm and was a beautiful shade of silver with black zig zag patterns decorating its back. The snake didn’t seem to care about Harry's shock and wrapped itself around his hand.
“How can I speak to you? Is this a wizard thing? Please don’t bite me.” He asked, bringing his hand up slightly so he could look at the reptile.
“No, wizards can't speak to me, I've tried, they just run away. Feed me and I won’t bite you. Lying in the sun makes me hungry.” The snake slashed its fangs and Harry snuck back inside quickly so he could get the snake a piece of leftover breakfast. The snake unhinged its mouth and swallowed it in one bite.
“Thank you, speaker.” The snake curled around Harry's neck and placed its head on his shoulder. Harry went back down to where he was picking the weeds, giving off the impression that he was working because he was pretty sure that if his aunt came out and saw that he was speaking to snakes, she'd go into a coma, or put him in one.
“Um, no problem, wait, what's your name?” Harry asked.
“My name is Dave.” Harry stopped and stared at the snake, he was expecting something along the lines of Rodent Killer or Death Machine not Dave.
“That's…. a name, how did you get here?”
“I moved.” Dave replied. Before Harry could respond to him, He saw a pair of green eyes, as big as tennis balls, staring directly at him. Harry blinked his eyes, but when he opened them, the pair of eyes were gone.
That's it, he thought to himself. I'm going to have a heat stroke. Scratch that, I am having a heat stroke.
Just before he could ponder what just happened, he heard footsteps leaving the house he turned and saw himself faced with his cousin. He moved slightly so he could hide Dave.
“I know what day it is.” Dudley said with a smug look on his face.
“Wow, Dudley, what an accomplishment. Next thing you know, you'll be able to tell the time as well.” Harry said dryly as he tried to look back in the bush, trying to see if the eyes had returned.
“It's your birthday, isn't it? You're 12. How come you didn't get any gifts? Do you not have any friends?” Dudley taunted as Harry stood there. Harry wanted to respond, but he couldn't take his eyes off the bush. Who did those eyes belong to? He must have been staring at the stress for long because Dudley asked him what he was doing.
“I'm talking to you!” Dudley grunted as he shoved Harry and he fell backwards, landing right next to Dave. As fast as lightning, Dave managed to slide up Dudley's leg and bear his fangs at him. Dudley screamed bloody murder, stumbling backwards and shaking his leg, trying to get Dave off, but he just slid up his leg laughing. As Dudley walked back, he tripped over his feet and fell flat on his arse, and started calling for his mother.
“Get off him! I'll get into trouble.” Harry hissed under his breath. As much as he took pleasure from seeing his cousin in disarray, he didn't want to see him die from a potentially poisonous bite.
“You’re no fun.” Dave grumbled as he got off Dudley. Just then, Aunt Petunia came running into the backyard and asked (shrieked) Dudley what happened. After he told her that a snake had come and crawled up his leg, (he very conveniently left out the part where he shoved Harry.) She wailed and started to check over him.
After fretting over Dudley for a couple more minutes and admonishing Harry for not helping get the snake off, Aunt Petunia ushered Dudley inside, barking at Harry to follow.
“Hey, would you like to come in? ” Harry asked the snake.
“No, I fear I might eat the large boy. Thank you for the food Speaker, I hope to see you again.” With that, Dave slithered away and through a small hole in the fence, leaving Harry standing in the middle of the garden.
“Inside now boy! Don’t make me say so again.” His aunt yelled.
“Coming Aunt Petunia.” Harry walked back to the house to see Aunt Petunia hovering all over Dudley and he was basking in the attention, even though he came out unscathed.
All in all, Harry didn’t seem to care, he was indoors and that’s all he wanted. He was worried about Dave and how he could fare from the heat. He hoped the snake would find a large rat to feast on.
But before Harry could continue worrying about his new acquaintance, his aunt fed him a piece of bread with a small amount of butter and was sent up to his room and most definitely was not getting dinner.
He entered his room and made a beeline for Hedwig. His poor friend had been locked up in her cage since she arrived. Harry felt bad for her and would let her out if he could, but his uncle had locked the cage with a padlock and refused to let her out. Hedwig lazily opened an eye and looked down at the lock as if to say let me out of this deathtrap right this instant.
“I'm sorry girl,” he said as he stroked her snow white feathers, “But I can't let you out, even if I wanted to.”
Harry plopped down on his bed and rubbed his eyes. The yelling and threats didn’t bother him, he was used to them. But after the Mirror of Erised, Harry found himself thinking back on his parents and what they’d be like, what it would be like to live in a family that loved him? To be a part of a family that didn't see him as a burden. The pictures that Hagrid had given him at the end of term were great, Harry would be forever thankful for them, but He couldn't help but want more. He wanted to see his parents up close, but Voldemort robbed him of that. And for what? To die in the end.
Harry stood up and walked towards his little desk and grabbed a piece of paper and a quill and started to work on his Herbology work. His uncle tried to lock up his stuff like he had done the year before, but after Harry told him that if he failed to do his homework he’d get expelled and his uncle would have to deal with him all year instead of 2 months. His stuff was returned to him with haste. Harry shuddered at what would happen if he had let his uncle lock up his stuff. He had a feeling that Professor Snape wouldn't take that as an excuse.
Not long after his banishment, Harry heard a car pull up to the driveway and an older couple walk out of it. The Masons’ had arrived. Harry could hear Dudley’s introduction and the group retreating into the reception room. Harry turned around when he came face to face with the same green eyes he saw in the bush.
Harry had let out a yell of shock and the commotion downstairs had faltered. He claimed his hands on his mouth and waited. When he was sure that his uncle wasn’t going to kill him, he addressed the creature. It was short, and had brown skin that looked like human skin, with bat-like ears and a long nose. It wore a dirty cloth that vaguely looked like a pillowcase.
“Hi… who are you? Harry asked, trying to keep the squeak out of his voice.
“Dobby. Sir. Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf,” said the creature.
“Ok Dobby. Look this is great and all but it would be nice if you could come back some other time. Like tomorrow maybe?”
“I’m sorry mister Harry Potter, but Dobby can’t come back another time sir, it is difficult, sir. Dobby wonders where to begin….”
“Sit down,” said Harry politely, pointing at the bed. To his horror, the elf burst into tears – very noisy tears.
“S-sit down!” it wailed. “Never…never ever…”
Harry thought he heard voices downstairs falter. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I didn’t mean to offend you or anything –”
“Offend Dobby!” choked the elf. “Dobby has never been asked to sit down by a wizard – like an equal –”
“Dobby please stop crying! If you do, you can tell me what you want.”
With that, the house elf ceased its crying and turned its large eyes on Harry.
“Now, mind telling me why you’re here? And why are you crying?”
“Dobby has never met such a kind wizard. Young master was right! Harry Potter is a very kind wizard!”
“Alright so- wait, do I know your master?” That was the wrong thing to say, because Dobby had decided to leap up and start banging its head furiously on the window, shouting, “Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!”
“Don’t – what are you doing?” Harry hissed, springing up and pulling Dobby back onto the bed – Hedwig had woken up with a particularly loud screech and was beating her wings wildly against the bars of her cage.
“Dobby had to punish himself, sir,” said the elf, who had gone slightly cross-eyed. “Dobby almost spoke ill of his family, sir…”
“Your family?”
“The wizard family Dobby serves, sir… Dobby is a house-elf – bound to serve one house and one family forever…”
“Do they know you’re here?” Harry asked curiously.
Dobby shuddered.
“Oh, no, sir, no…Dobby will have to punish himself most grievously for coming to see you, sir. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door for this. If they ever knew I came here, sir –”
“But won’t they notice if you shut your ears in the oven door? No, don't answer that. Just tell me why you're here.”
“Ah, sir,” Dobby gasped, dabbing his face with a corner of the grubby pillowcase he was wearing. “Dobby had heard that the great Harry Potter is valiant and bold! He has braved so many dangers already! But Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, to warn him, even if he does have to shut his ears in the oven doors later… Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts.”
There was a silence broken only by the chink of knives and forks from downstairs and the distant rumble of Uncle Vernon’s voice.
“What?” Harry stammered. “But I’ve got to go back – term starts on September first. It’s all that’s keeping me going. You don’t know what it’s like here. I don’t belong here. I belong in your world – at Hogwarts.”
“No, no, no,” squeaked Dobby, shaking his head so hard his ears flapped. “Harry Potter must stay where he is safe. He is too great, to good to lose. If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, he will be in mortal danger.”
“Why?” said Harry in surprise. “Hogwarts is one of the safest places in Britain, and I'd be much safer there than here stuck with my muggle relatives.”
“There is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year,” whispered Dobby, suddenly trembling all over. “Dobby has known it for months, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!”
“What terrible things?” said Harry at once. “Who’s plotting them?”
Dobby made a funny choking noise and then banged his head frantically against the wall.
“All right!” cried Harry, grabbing the elf’s arm to stop him. “You can’t tell me. I understand. But why are you warning me?” A sudden, unpleasant thought struck him. “Hang on – this hasn’t got anything to do with Voldemort has it? You could just shake or nod,” he added hastily as Dobby’s head tilted worryingly close to the wall again.
Slowly, Dobby shook his head.
“Not – not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, sir –”
But Dobby’s eyes were wide and he seemed to be trying to give Harry a hint. Harry, however, was completely lost.
“Then who?”
Dobby shook his head, his eyes wider than ever.
“Well then, I can’t think who else would have a chance of making horrible things happen at Hogwarts,” said Harry. “I mean, there’s Dumbledore, for one thing – you know who Dumbledore is, don’t you? He’s off his rockers but he’s crazy powerful”
Dobby bowed his head.
“Albus Dumbledore is the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever had. Dobby knows it, sir. Dobby has heard Dumbledore’s powers rival those of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the height of his strength. But, sir” – Dobby’s voice dropped to an urgent whisper – “there are powers Dumbledore doesn’t…powers no decent wizard…”
And before Harry could stop him, Dobby bounded off the bed, seized Harry’s desk lamp, and started beating himself around the head with ear splitting yelps.
A sudden silence fell downstairs. Two seconds later Harry, heart thudding madly, heard Uncle Vernon coming into the hall, calling, “Dudley must have left his television on again, the little tyke!”
“Quick! In the closet!” hissed Harry, stuffing Dobby in, shutting the door, and flipping himself onto the bed just as the door handle turned.
“What – the – devil – are – you – doing?” said Uncle Vernon through gritted teeth, his face horrible close to Harry’s. “You’ve just ruined the punch line of my Japanese golfer joke… One more sound and you’ll wish you’d never been born, boy!”
“Sorry Uncle Vernon, I was just - exercising?”
“Cut. It. Out.”
He stomped out of the room. Shaking, Harry let Dobby out of the closet.
“See what it’s like here?” he said. “See why I’ve got to go back to Hogwarts? It’s the only place I’ve got – well, I think I’ve got friends.”
“Friends who don’t even write to Harry Potter?” said Dobby slyly.
“I expect they’ve just been – wait a minute,” said Harry, frowning. “How do you know my friends haven’t been writing to me?”
Dobby shuffled his feet.
“Harry Potter mustn’t be angry with Dobby. Dobby did it for the best –”
“Have you been stopping my letters?” Harry snarled, walking towards the elf.
“Dobby has them here, sir,” said the elf. Stepping nimbly out of Harry’s reach, he pulled a thick wad of envelopes from the inside of the pillowcase he was wearing. Harry could make out letters from all his friends, even from Draco, Pansy, and Theo. Hell, even Hagrid had sent him a note.
Dobby blinked anxiously up at Harry.
“Harry Potter mustn’t be angry…Dobby hoped…if Harry Potter thought his friends had forgotten him…Harry Potter might not want to go back to school, sir…”
Harry wasn’t listening. He made a grab for the letters, but Dobby jumped out of reach.
“Harry Potter will have them, sir, if he gives Dobby his word that he will not return to Hogwarts. Ah, sir, this is a danger you must not face! Say you won’t go back, sir!”
“Ok so if i tell you that i won't go to Hogwarts you’ll give me back my letters?” Harry said slowly, trying to find a way to get out of this.
“Yes sir.” Dobby replied, looking weary.
“Okay, I won't return to Hogwarts.”
“Dobby needs more than that Mister Harry Potter sir. Dobby thinks you might back out of the agreement.”
“I swear it, Dobby on my…..” Harry said looking around for something, anything. At last his eyes fell on one of his cousin's old ratty shirts. Bingo . “I swear on my favourite shirt.” Harry said, lifting the rag to the house elf.
“That’s fine Mister Harry Potter sir,” With a snap of his boney fingers, the shirt disappeared. “Dobby will give back Mister Harry Potter’s shirt after the 1st of September.” Dobby handed the pile of letters back to Harry and even though Harry tried to look heartbroken at losing the shirt, he felt like he could break out into song.
“Oh... ok Dobby. Just take good care of it.” Harry said, looking at the floor and trying to not smile.
“Of course mister Harry Potter sir. Have a good day.” and with another loud Popping sound, Dobby the House Elf left.
Harry waited for a count of 5 before laughing in joy. He grabbed the papers and started to tear through them with vigour. Hedwig tilted her head and stared at Harry, probably wondering why he was so happy.
“My friends didn’t hate me Hedwig! They sent me stuff, it was just the crazy house elf that stopped them from getting here!” Harry sat down and tore open one of the papers. He was greeted by the sight of Theo’s penmanship. He smiled and skimmed through the letter, a smile dancing on his face.
But before Harry could read the rest his bedroom door swung open and his relatives came back in.
“You're lucky that you didn't ruin my deal boy, or I would have-” His uncle stopped his rant as he noticed the array of papers “What in the blazes-”
“DID YOU HAVE ONE OF YOUR - FREAKS HERE?”
“No- no Uncle, I didn't! I swear.”
“Oh really and- Where did you get those papers from?” Shit.
“They’re um - from my friends.”
“DIDN’T WE TELL YOU TO STOP THAT NONSENSE WHEN YOU COME BACK FROM THAT SCHOOL?” Vernon yelled back. Harry tried to shuffle the papers away but his uncle grabbed him by his neck “Where did you get them from boy?”
“An Elf gave them to me. But-” That was the wrong thing to say because Aunt Petunia let out a horrid wail and Dudley ran back to his room.
“What did you say?” Vernon said in an unusual soft voice. “Are you telling me that you have one of those - those freaks IN YOUR ROOM?” Vernon threw Harry to the floor and kicked him in the ribs. Pain bloomed through his body and he curled into a ball to protect himself from the onslaught of attacks. “YOU HAD ONE OF YOUR KIND IN THE ROOM WE SO GENEROUSLY LET YOU STAY IN?”
“THAT’S IT! I’ve had it with you boy. First the giant and now an elf. We should have thrown you out the second you darken our doorstep. Get used to these four walls because that's all you're going to be seeing for a long time!” His uncle cackled and left, locking the door behind him. Harry stayed still for a while, trying to breathe without causing more pain. Harry had never wished for his parents more than he did then and there.
The next morning, Harry woke up to a man fitting bars on his window and his door having a cat flap installed to shove food through.
“You're never going back to that crack pot ever again.” Vernon said as he bolted in the cat flap, and Harry felt more helpless than he had ever been.