Chapter Text
Harry was cold, terribly cold, in fact, the thin blanket on his body did not help, nor did his clothes, his small body was shaking, he wanted to cast a warming charm on himself, but it was simply impossible, because he had neither a wand nor a sufficient magical reserve. More precisely, he had a reserve, it was just not formed and a third of the required state and if he used magic now, in any way, Harry would become a squib. He wanted to get to this damn house as quickly as possible, how did Dumbledore even think of leaving a child at someone's door at night? And what if there were stray dogs here? They would simply bite him to death! Or he could die of cold. This outcome is more realistic, if you look at modern realities. To die only by returning to the past? It sounds like a disgrace. He had to somehow give a signal so that the Dursleys would wake up and take him into the house and feed him. Or at least they just took him into the house. Warm air was seeping out from under the door, and the cold outside had already penetrated him from head to toe, which is why Harry had already started to shiver.
Be that as it may, he was able to cry, and quite loudly, which Harry did not expect from himself, but it was even better. The louder, the higher the likelihood that he would be heard and taken away, which he really wanted, especially his stomach, which was demanding food.
Finally, the doors opened and a surprised woman stood on the threshold - his aunt, Petunia Dursley, she did not understand where the child came from on her threshold, who, by the way, quickly calmed down when he saw her. She took him in her hands and brought him into the house to read the letter in the warmth, which lay on top of the thin blanket that covered Harry. The boy was surprised by the genuine concern in his aunt's eyes, but he quickly realized that she was worried not because she had found her nephew on the doorstep of her house without his parents, in the cold, in only a thin blanket, but because she did not know that it was him.
When her fingers unfolded the letter, Harry held his breath, as if expecting a death sentence. Partly it was, and he wanted to enjoy those minutes of care from his aunt, even if she did not know who he was, so even better! But his wishes again remained unanswered and as she read the letter, her face became paler and paler. Petunia looked at Harry with a cautious and appraising look, and then indignantly squeezed the sheet of paper in her hands and threw it on the table. The woman took a baby bottle and poured milk from the bottle she had bought into it and, having slightly warmed it up, gave it to Harry. He began to eat as if he was starving, it seemed that she could take the food away at any moment and he was going to drink the maximum. But she took the bottle only when he finished, looked to see if he was full, nodded to herself and put Harry in the cupboard, looking guilty. However, before that, she cleaned it up and created a more or less normal place for him. It would not be worth asking for more from a person like Petunia Dursley, she was already suspiciously affectionate. But, Harry knew, this was a start. In the morning, Petunia would explain to Vernon what kind of child this was and why he could not be sent to an orphanage, and Harry was sure that Vernon would be glad to simply get rid of an unnecessary burden, especially in his person.
Harry couldn't sleep, he thought that as soon as he closed his eyes, all his memories would disappear and he would live the same life that he hated, full of deception of both himself and others, full of unhappiness and failure, pain and suffering, full of disappointments and losses. No, he was afraid to go back, afraid to become the same as he was, afraid to live the same fate. He was not afraid of pain, he was afraid to resign himself again, to give in again and use the Unforgivable on himself, which had failed on him so many times, just to end it all. But apparently he really was a loser. Losing his past memories now meant losing this chance he had just received. He seemed to have read something about saving and storing information. Storage was exactly what he needed.
"What was it like? Create a space... no, a room... my office? Yes, there are a lot of cabinets, there will be plenty of space for memories.. create space in your mind.. create space"
He closed his eyes and tried. He tried again, and again and again, because of the attempts, fatigue gradually punished him, so Harry decided that if it didn’t work now, he would put it off until tomorrow. He didn’t yet know whether pumping the mind was considered magic, so he was afraid to strain himself.
"Space.. yes! There is! Now we need to sort through all the memories and get rid of the unnecessary ones. Is it worth getting rid of anything at all? Suddenly it will come in handy.. no, Harry, pull yourself together, the end of the world will not happen if you forget what report you filled out on Friday. Okay, then I’ll leave only what is necessary. Only key events."
So he fiddled around for several hours, putting information on shelves in folders, labeling each folder so that it would be easy to understand where what belongs to what. It was difficult, it required concentration and precision, which the body of a one-year-old child did not have and cannot have. But the consciousness is adult. Thanks to this, you was going. After Harry finished, he "came out" of his consciousness, he immediately fell asleep, his body was terribly tired, next time he shouldn't strain himself so much.
In the morning, he was woken up by loud exclamations. At first, Potter didn't understand where he was and why his body wasn't obeying him, and then it dawned on him and he suddenly realized the whole situation. It would seem that he should have been scared, wanting to go back, but no, he was more satisfied with this life, which would soon probably turn into hell, than the one he got rid of, regretting only that he didn't say goodbye to his friends, they didn't deserve that. But what's done can't be undone, so now he's here and listening to Vernon and Petunia argue about his future. Petunia, surprisingly, is determined to keep Harry here and raise him, unlike Uncle Vernon, who kept repeating that the orphanage was his place, that he would be like one of their own there, and there was no place for "abnormals" in their house. In principle, the boy expected such a reaction from his uncle, but his aunt surprised him, didn't she care about him? Maybe this can be considered a pleasant addition.
- Vernon, how can you not understand, he is my nephew! My blood! All that is left of Lily! Yes, she was abnormal and we had a bad relationship, but she is still my sister! Who am I to contradict her last will? Who are you?! We are leaving him and that's it! Your business has just started to pay off and money will soon cease to be a problem, it's only a matter of time. Is it so difficult for you to meet me halfway? He is the son of your wife's sister! Vernon, he's staying and that's the end of the conversation! -
Vernon stood there as if he had been dipped in water, he couldn't contradict his wife now, not now, when she was ready to yell at him, when she wanted something so much. Vernon didn't understand why the fate of this boy was so important to her, but he loved and respected his wife, and therefore decided that it wouldn't be difficult for him to support another child if he only bought him the basic minimum. And his wife was happy, and it wasn't hard on his pocket. He would spend more money on someone else's child. Vernon approached Harry, first entering the closet, noting to himself to rebuild it into a room, since there were no other options where he could settle the foundling. He looked over the boy appraisingly, nothing remarkable, except for a fresh scar in the shape of a lightning bolt on his forehead and bright green eyes, as if looking into the soul.
- What's his name? -
Vernon asked, to which Petunia, without going into the closet, answered him briefly, "Harry Potter." The head of the Dursley family stopped staring at the child and sighed in disappointment: he would still have to spend money on him, at least until he was four, because children could get sick from non-sterile things, and treatment would cost several times more than the same clothes. Harry tried to look as childish as possible, as if he had not seen this person before this moment and that he was an ordinary one-year-old child, and not a twenty-three-year-old guy who had been transported in time and who already had his own child.
Soon the man moved away from the child and went to have breakfast, unexpected events were unexpected events, and no one canceled work. Therefore, after eating and collecting the documents in a folder, he left the house, kissing his wife goodbye. Petunia had already warmed up some milk for Harry, having made porridge for Dudley, she gave the boy a bottle and went to feed her son. Potter quickly drank everything that was there and, letting go of the bottle so that it rolled a little further, the boy again remembered his office in his mind. Closing his eyes again, he found himself in it, examining everything, whether anything was lost, whether everything was in the right folders, and so on. In his mind, he was in his past, already adult, body. And feeling his childish body after moving back to reality was uncomfortable and even somehow offensive. But he could not complain, and it was useless, and so he decided to just wait until he grew up at least to his first confident steps, which he would take, and better until he began to run well.
Three and a half years later
Harry woke up from the clatter of footsteps and quickly dressed, ran out of his closet into the kitchen. Aunt Petunia treated him more strictly now, but fed him more or less normally, at least better than in his past life, but only twice a day. Or no, Harry didn't remember. He sat at the table, watching his aunt's actions, realizing that in about another year and a half or two, if he was lucky, he would be running around the kitchen and setting the table, but at the same time listening to constant reproaches. In the meantime, all he had to do was be as quiet and calm as possible, eat quickly and disappear from their sight, so that they wouldn't think of ordering him to do something.
And so his new life passed, quietly and relatively calmly. They didn't bother him much. But Harry knew that it was only because he was a child, a matter of time before Uncle Vernon decided that he had grown up enough to be a scapegoat, a personal punching bag, guilty of all sins, and an errand boy. Or a parody of a house elf. To use magic words.
Before he could finish his scrambled eggs, he jumped off the table and rushed to the door, quickly running out of the house, because he saw It wasn't a very good start to the day to Uncle Vernon early in the morning, and each time Uncle got more and more intense in his nagging at him, the last time he almost cursed Harry for accidentally dropping a fork on the floor, and he didn't care that the boy got up and washed it, apologizing before that, although it seemed like it wasn't his fault. Potter didn't want to flicker in front of this man again, so he ran to another district now, there were several of them in his town: the first one - Harry only knew about it that very wealthy people live there who like to show off in front of others, and that because of this it is very beautiful, the second one is the district in which he now lives, average, if you can say so, people with a stable income live here, usually above average, but the houses are all the same, with rare exceptions and many enviously dream of moving to the first district, the third one is already more dangerous, there are enough people living in it, crime is higher than in the second, but it is more or less controlled, there are many bars and casinos, brothels and clubs, the police patrol there almost around the clock in order to somehow control the situation, but they are not doing a good job, and the fourth district is a window everyone calls a slum and a dirty spot on the city, there people either have low incomes or none at all, they can rob you out of the blue, and so that a person does not notice anything. Now Harry was running to the third, he would not have been allowed to go to the first, and the fourth was dangerous, cases of kidnapping and selling children were common news there, so you shouldn't go there at all until you're 10, unless the situation requires it.
He tried not to wander around his area, there was nothing to catch there, and if something happened, the Dursleys would immediately find out everything from those who saw him doing some "uncultured" activity, for example, once he drew with chalk on the walls of an empty building, so he was taken by the scruff of the neck to the guardians, loudly scolding him on the way. No, he didn't need that. And the areas here are small, so running out of one and getting into another was not a problem, although his legs got tired. Mainly because he was already underfed and had nowhere to get his strength from, and his body still needed to grow. So he went to extremes, at first he was ashamed, then this feeling dulled and such things became a routine necessary for a slightly more comfortable life. What did he do? Steal. Not much, mostly small stuff, he could steal someone else's change from the counter, someone else's food from a kiosk, or not pay for his own, taking advantage of the moment of his distraction, pretend to be an unfortunate orphan, which he was by the way, and beg someone for a treat or a few coins. Sometimes he paid with stolen money, of course, he didn't have any others.
He walked for about forty minutes around the third district, or as they say in common parlance, around the den, due to the abundance of brothels, illegal drug spots, bars and other similar establishments. There is a special street here consisting only of them. Naturally, Harry did not go to that street, he had no need and nothing to do there, he was not even five yet. Now if only he were older.. Harry dismissed these thoughts from himself, now is not the time to think about this, because his stomach is treacherously growling. Today there were not many coins in his pocket, but not few either, he wanted to save up for new shoes, but the Dursleys would ask questions, so the boy had to abandon this idea in favor of food, which was more necessary now than shoes. In the end, he could walk around in these, they would give him some soon anyway.
Approaching a street food stand, he counted the money and ordered a double-patty meat burger to make sure he would be full. Despite his young age, he had a brutal appetite, which was quite strange, in his past life he had not had this. But in his past life he did not steal, and did not eat outside the Dursleys' house, and no one fed him.
"I should stop comparing my first and this life. Although, if I stop, I will forget why I do this. I got rid of the feeling of guilt only a couple of years ago, I do not want to get it back again. I just want to eat normally, it is not a crime. "The crime is precisely not feeding a child enough."
He played out a semblance of a dialogue in his mind. The lack of communication with Hermione and Ron hit him harder than he could have thought, his friends had always been there for him before, constantly chatting about nothing, and now he either talks to himself or listens to Vernon tell him how terrible he is and how he eats away at their family, while buying his son a new expensive toy that Dudley will break in a couple of hours. Yeah, right. But the burger was tasty, this shop always cooked tasty food, so he didn't steal here. It would be a tragedy if they stopped selling to him here because of stealing. It's worth walking along other streets, maybe Harry will be able to find change on the floor, or while walking he will have time to grab someone else's change from buying something on the street stalls.
That's what happened, by the way. He had a stroke of luck, a young girl was buying something for herself in one shop and the seller put some fairly large bills in change and right to the edge, which was his mistake, because the boy immediately rushed there and, having grabbed a good part of the money, quickly ran away, because in about ten seconds another boy rushed after him, he looked to be about ten, maybe twelve years old, but he ran worse than Harry, who was already experienced and knew where to run to increase the distance and / or throw off the chase. The boy chasing Harry was a pleasant appearance, average height for children of his age, normal weight, a beautiful, albeit childish, face, black hair and the same black eyes. These eyes were strongly remembered by Harry, although he did not look into them for a long time, they seemed to be recorded somewhere in the subconscious, as something concealing a threat, because the look with which the boy looked at him was full of some incomprehensible anger and thirst for blood. Having run into the alley, he immediately pressed himself against the wall, the unknown boy ran inside, thinking that Potter was there, and he himself, in the meantime, simply ran back and after five minutes of running switched to walking. After all, this is a child's body and he gets tired quickly. In general, it is good that he can run so fast, otherwise he would have to go hungry, because he would constantly be caught stealing and instead of food he would receive a good portion of insults and beatings. No, all this will be enough for him in the future, for now he needs to be more careful and hide better, at least until he learns to fight to fight back, but there is still a lot of time before that.
In three years
And now Harry is already a little over seven. He will soon go to elementary school, he was allowed to go to the school, very meager, and then to the city library. It wasn't that Harry was eager to go there, but he needed to keep himself busy, and the only thing he was interested in besides reading was stealing. And yes, he was interested, he wasn't addicted, but he had long since stopped doing it just for the sake of survival. Now it was a way to increase the amount of money he already had in his wallet, which was quite good, by the way, or to force himself to take up sports, because running away from an enraged alcoholic whose last bottle of rum he had taken in the slums was a truly underrated sport. Because for this, firstly, he needed physical training, because alcoholics could be fucking fast if they wanted to, secondly, experience, because he needed to somehow escape, and in a child's body any adult would be faster, so he needed to use ingenuity and shortcuts, and thirdly, courage, because when they shout at you that they would tear you to shreds if they caught you, you needed to be able to laugh, not panic, and cowards can't do that. Why would he steal alcohol at the age of seven? In order to sell it in stores later, because despite the fact that poverty is the main situation of almost all residents in the slums, their alcohol was of good quality, mainly because they made it themselves, believing that they would spend it once and almost never spend money on alcohol for the rest of their lives - saving. Which, in principle, is true. Well, for those from whom Potter does not steal it, and he steals from many, one quarter of the area already hates him, and the other quarter is afraid of him.
About the library, there he read about taxes, about laws, and also studied another language. Which one? German. Harry did not know why, but he liked it madly, so much so that as soon as the boy saw it, he immediately began to study it. And so far he was doing quite well, for three months of study. Fortunately, a child's brain absorbs everything like a sponge, so there were no special problems with this. True, this privilege has its downside, he has already learned so much foul language that he did not know in his past life and at twenty, and now it was problematic to control his mouth in front of his uncle, whom he really wanted to send far and for a long time, as well as his aunt, by the way. But for now it is impossible.
- Darling, we are already closing, it is time to go. Will you take your book with you? We will need to write it down. -
A good-natured old lady librarian, with whom he communicated quite well, addressed him. In herself, she was a boring conversationalist, but better something than nothing, not to chat with alcoholics, really, but so she made concessions to him and let him into the adult section, even some books that were only for sale in stores, she gave him to take for a couple of days.
- No, I'll just put it a little deeper on the shelf, so that they don't take it. Goodbye, Mrs. Rachel. —
He said calmly, smiling, to which the old woman only laughed kindly and shook her head. This boy was a kind of mystery, he never said anything unnecessary, he watched his language in a way that not every adult could, and this added to the respect for him. Harry was never rude, but he also did not flatter, he did not ask, but hinted, he was not rude, but always defended his opinion and his position, explaining his point of view as if to a child.
-Okay, dear. Will you come tomorrow? —
He shrugged his shoulders, thinking.
-Most likely I will. I'll see in practice. —
She nodded and led him to the exit. This boy brightened up her loneliness, she would have quit long ago if she had enough money, now she was saving so that in retirement she would not have to worry about how to feed herself on the penny state payments, and Harry seemed to be all p onimal, he discussed with her how prices had risen, how the government was unfair to its citizens, how sometimes it was inconvenient to pay taxes, and many other things that, in theory, should not be discussed with children, but this boy spent his free time hanging out in a brothel, and sometimes in the slums, so Rachel did not see a problem. And she wanted to be heard. The children had not written for a long time, her husband had died about seven years ago, she had no grandchildren, or she simply did not know about their existence, which is basically the same thing. Only Harry constantly listened to her, without interrupting and from time to time clarified what this or that word meant in order to better understand the essence, and this pleased the old woman, very pleased, in fact, he was a welcome visitor to the library and she wrote him an excellent description, which she sent to school, mentioning that he perfectly memorizes a large amount of information, loves to learn new things and understands a lot the first time, absorbing information like a sponge. It's summer now, school will start in a couple of weeks and this characteristic will help Harry to have a certain reputation as a possible excellent student and at least at first the teachers will not bother him, and then we'll see, maybe little Potter will not study, or maybe he will, who knows? But she is able to help at least a little, so she will do it, all the same it will not bring harm.
Harry walked along the road, kicking stones, he was recently given new shoes. They were big for him, so he went to the workshop and they fixed them for him, remade them for him, of course it cost a lot, but now he has money. In general, now he coos more for adrenaline than out of necessity, he always has a certain amount with him, about three hundred pounds, but he stably "confiscated" alcohol again a couple of times a week, sold it to shops, and then bottles to the place where they hand over glass and metal, they paid little there, but it is better than just breaking these bottles.
The house of his uncle and aunt appeared nearby, it was about eight in the evening. The library closes at seven thirty, and he didn't want to walk quickly, so he made a kind of circle to walk longer. He was home only in the morning, and now he was returning. He left at seven in the morning, came back at eight in the evening. Well, on the other hand, it's even good, he doesn't see annoying relatives and has freedom, and they don't see him and do their own thing. Everyone is in the plus, and no one ever scolded him for this, on the contrary, they could complain if he came before seven in the evening, then they also harnessed him with work, and Harry was already a mess, his legs literally didn't obey because of fatigue, and then this. So they unofficially decided that he would come after seven, or even later, but if he was not there at nine thirty, then he would spend the night outside. Yes, that happened too, he just slept on the threshold of the house, it was in June, so he only complained about mosquitoes, but otherwise it was even nice.
Entering the house, he saw this picture. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were sitting in the kitchen, both of them had dissatisfied expressions, he was about to leave, but was told to go into the room.
—What's wrong, Aunt?—
She sighed heavily, clearly dissatisfied, and said.
—You'll be going to school soon.—
Harry was a little surprised by these words, so he quickly clarified.
—It's free, isn't it—
He thought it was strange why they were talking to him about this. They had a free primary school in their town. And a secondary school too. Although by that time he would already be at Hogwarts, but that didn't matter, the point was that you don't have to pay for tuition, which meant there was no reason for this conversation.
—We're not talking about that, boy.—
Harry barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes. Well, they really pissed him off, he wanted to tell them everything he thought, but he knew firsthand how strong Vernon's fist was, so he simply didn't dare. It's too early. It's not worth it.
"What's the problem then, Auntie?"
She glanced quickly at her husband, then returned it to Harry and continued.
"They sent us your reference from the city library. To be honest, I'm amazed that someone like you is capable of such a thing. I decided to look at what books you've read for fun and... I became even more surprised. Were you just pretending to read to get a reference? You did it. That's smart of you, and considering who your parents are... well, such a deception was not unexpected.
To say that Harry was stunned by her words would be the same as keeping silent. "Pretending to get a reference"? What kind of nonsense is this? Why are they so sure that he can't just fucking read? This is not a question in the spirit of "you probably didn't understand anything, even though you read it," but "you're so stupid that I'm not sure you can. Of course, not all children his age read, especially such complex literature, but why can't he?
- I can read. And I understood everything that was written there. Honestly, you have to be a stupid piece of shit not to understand. You have to be a fucking autist not to understand clearly written information! -
Yes, before, he himself would not have understood such topics, simply because he did not want to understand, clarify, ask those who know. And by doing all this, even the most difficult topic will seem easier.
- Watch your m tongue, you naughty boy! —
Vernon shouted, getting up from the table. It was a bad sign, a very bad one, but Harry didn't care, he was already going crazy and couldn't control himself.
-You're the one watching yours! What the fuck did I do again?! I was just fucking reading! I even did something good, but no! I'm guilty of everything in the world again! You're driving me crazy! How the fuck do you drive me crazy! —
He fell silent, waiting for an answer, but when he didn't get one after a couple of seconds, he continued, not wanting to wait, not wanting to remain silent, wanting to submit to their will.
-Why are you silent? Nothing to say, fucking? Of course you have nothing to say! In order to say something, you have to think, and in your fucking stupid head there's nothing to think with! There's simply nothing! You say something to me, but at the same time you don't look after yourself! Your son is a dumb manipulator, but okay, being able to manipulate is often more useful than not, but he's fucking dumber than a champagne cork! He can't even put two and two together! By the time he realizes he's been insulted, I'll be old! You, Vernon, are also a fat, dumb bastard. Yes, you have money because you just bend over backwards for others like a cheap bedding! Petunia... you're just a fucking bitch! Afraid of magic? Be afraid as much as you want, but don't take your inferiority out on me! You're fucking annoying! You're so fucking annoying! How I wish you'd all die, you fucking bastards! You're just bitches! -
Everyone stood silently, shocked by this boy's words.
- What a fucking impudent boy! I'll show you your damn place if you've forgotten it, you slut! -
Vernon walked up to Harry and... grabbed him by the hair and slammed him hard against the wall. Petunia froze in shock, she knew that her husband didn't like her nephew, but she never expected to see such hatred in his eyes! While she was in a stupor, Vernon hit him again, this time with his knee in the stomach, and let go to hit him again when Harry, jumping to his feet, ran out of the kitchen, and then out of the house. He frantically unlocked the door, which he had locked when he came in, and ran as fast as he could. He was heading to the den, there were a couple of places where no one would find him, it was safer there than here.
It turned out that he ran under the doors of one multi-storey building when his strength completely left him. The dens usually had two or three-story buildings where flats were rented or sold. When he stopped, the adrenaline stopped raging in his blood and he simply couldn’t stand, so he collapsed on the ground, screaming in pain, which only got worse because of running. Harry prayed that he didn’t break anything, otherwise the next week would be hell on earth. Why a week? Magic would have time to heal him during this time, but at the same time he would feel the pain during the treatment as at the very beginning, that is, wildly strong. Harry usually considered this wildly unfair, but now he didn’t think about anything at all, only groaned in pain and pressed his legs to his chest, taking the fetal position.
The child’s scream made the old lady, Mrs. Rachel, jump up from the table. She found the scream strangely familiar, so she quickly left her flat and ran up to him. Her horror knew no bounds, it was Harry! In a sorry state, which was very bad. She helped him up and thanked God that she had gone out first, because who knows what they would have done to him if they had found him in a semi-conscious state.