Chapter Text
Harry always knew he was smart. But Aunt Petunia hated it when got better grades than her precious Dudders, so he started getting lower marks on purpose. Maybe then they’d love him? Maybe then they could be a family?
So Harry tried to do better, to be better. He kept the house spotless, he made sure Aunt Petunia’s garden was the best on the street, he learned to cook better meals, perfected recipes. Surely now they’d look at him and say “Good job Harry!”. Right?
It took Uncle Vernon beating Harry for being a freak and kicking him in the ribs so hard he heard something crack for Harry’s fantasy to come crashing down.
He cried for hours before deciding to change his goals.
From then on, he became better to avoid getting beaten, he stayed quiet so he wouldn’t starve, and studied so he could leave this hellhole as soon as possible.
Harry started nicking food from the fridge in the middle of the night, and taking money they left lying around, every bit helped. Stray pences and pounds taken went into Harry’s jar.
Harry was nine when his Aunt mentioned his father speaking Spanish whilst screaming at him for him to find out the first thing about his parents. After that he resolved to learn Spanish. He spent hours reading books in the library in the language. Once he was fluent Harry figured why stop there. He started learning Latin and French, and spent hours in the library reading about everything.
Harry loved learning. He loved the feeling of discovering new things to occupy his mind with. He loved the feeling of using his newfound knowledge in interesting ways. He loved knowing things the Dursleys didn’t. Every time Dudley was complimented for a B- or a C+ he knew he could have done better. “It’s only because I did your homework for you while you were off playing.” he’d think.
The books became his refuge from the real world. He read about how to treat broken bones, and cuts, and bruises and thought he was pathetic for knowing he would have to put that information to use.
So Harry put on a mask. He no longer begged for attention but instead ran from it. He kept his emotions in lock and key and hid them so far in his brain he couldn’t feel them anymore.
He learned to hide, and survive.
Everything was perfect.
Until that thrice damned letter arrived.
And gave him another world with expectations and masks to hide in.