Work Text:
Harry was…
Not okay.
He’d been trapped in his room for close to three days now, for something he didn’t remember. It was less of a room and more of a prison cell, actually, but whatever. He wasn’t allowed food for more than five minutes. He, for some reason, also wasn’t allowed to do chores. And he was only allowed to use the bathroom if Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon were available to stand outside and make sure he didn’t… Do anything?
Harry honestly had no idea why they were insistent on this rule. It wasn’t like he would hurt or kill himself (even though he’d thought about it). Or use magic. They were probably more worried about the magic.
Either way, Harry wasn’t sure how long this would last.
How long he would last.
He was tired.
And hungry.
He just wanted to sleep… Preferably forev-
Okay. Maybe not.
He was The Savior of the Wizarding World. He couldn’t die from this. He needed to protect his family.
His real family.
Hermione and the whole Weasley clan. As well as most of the other Gryffindors. Just thinking about them brought a sad kind of smile to his face.
He missed Hogwarts.
Especially Fred and George. The twins had taken it upon themselves to check in with Harry every morning at school, but not in an obvious way. To anyone else it would just look like brothers pestering their younger brother friend. Their friend.
…
Anyway…
Harry knew what they were really doing.
On days when Harry wasn’t as interested in joking with the twins, he’d find a bag of sweets and some awful jokes written on sticky notes on or around his bed. They always made him smile.
He was pretty sure the twins knew he loved it.
Fuck, Harry thought, drawing out the word in his head. He really missed them.
Harry heard the click of a lock coming undone from the other side of his prison sorry, room, and bolted upright from his position on the bed, making constellations out of the popcorn ceiling while letting his mind wander.
The cat flap at the bottom of the door swung opened and a can of garbanzo beans were tossed into the room. Both sides of the can were still sealed. How the hell was he supposed to open them?
“Be grateful we’re even giving you food, you worthless pest!” Aunt Petunia’s shrill voice echoed around the room, setting off Hedwig, who had been asleep. She hooted and flapped her wings in the cage for only a few seconds, but it was a few seconds too long.
Harry heard the frantic movement of Aunt Petunia unlatching all the locks and bolts and whatever else they decided to use on his door. He tumbled out of his bed and rushed over to Hedwig’s cage (which was thankfully unlocked due to Hedwig refusing to be quiet unless it was lock-free), ripping it open. He couldn’t risk Hedwig getting hurt. Not again. Never again.
She hooted softly, and Harry spared a quick pat to her head before he wrenched the window open.
“Go to Ron,” Harry whispered, “He’ll keep you safe.”
Hedwig headbutted him, then flew out the window right as the door flung open.
“Potter!” Aunt Petunia shrieked. Harry flinched. “Shut that bird up or-” She trailed off when she noticed the empty cage and open window.
“You- You- You ungrateful piece of shit!” She stomped toward him and Harry considered just tossing himself out the window, but there was no time. The woman he was forced to call his aunt grabbed his arm with a bruising grip and dragged him out of the room. “Let’s see what Vernon has to say about this, hm?”
Harry was already struggling against Aunt Petunia’s hold, but he started squirming harder after hearing Vernon’s name. He was dragged down the stairs (and was really just thankful he wasn’t thrown down) and tossed to the ground in the kitchen.
“What now?” Uncle Vernon grumbled, setting his cigarette down on the ashtray.
“Potter let his insufferable bird lose,” Petunia explained as Harry got to sitting on his knees, head bowed.
“He what.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Harry lied trough his teeth, still staring at the ground, keeping his voice neutral. “She just needed to stretch her wings.”
“Liar!” Both Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia shouted, making Harry flinch. He kept his head down, though, which he was proud of.
Why did he think they would listen to him? It’s not like anyone has before…
“How dare you lie to me! To us! We didn’t want you. No one could ever want you! We’ve fed you, clothed you, and put a roof over your head! And this is how you repay us!” Uncle Vernon stood. “Let’s teach you a lesson, shall we?” And Harry knew he was fucked when he could hear the smile in Vernon’s voice.
Then he heard the lighter open and a spark turn to flame.
And Harry…
Woke up… Somewhere?
“Wha-?”
Harry tried to sit up, but a soreness on his back made him flop back onto whatever he was laying against. Which made the soreness worse, and a blinding sticky kind of pain shot through his back.
He somehow stayed silent, but it wasn’t easy.
After some readying breaths, Harry opened his eyes. He found the dark kitchen ceiling looking down at him. Slowly moving his head to the side to look out the patio doors, confirmed that it was nighttime.
Harry sat up, slowly this time, and carefully pulled off his shirt, wincing at every movement.
He could see himself in the reflection of the glass doors, so he knew Vernon was the one to burn him. He was the only one brave enough to leave blisters. Harry sighed. He left the shirt off and used the counter to pull himself onto his feet. He took the shirt with him, though, not wanting to incur Vernon’s wrath again for leaving evidence of his existence.
He stumbled up to his room as quietly as possible. Petunia was already there. Harry paused at the top of the steps, eyeing her wearily.
“In,” was all she said, gesturing to the open door of his cell.
Harry listened.
Then the door slammed shut behind him and all the locks clicked into place.
At least the can of beans was still there.
And Hedwig was safe.
Merlin, Hedwig.
The room was so quiet without her.
Harry sighed. He threw the shirt near his somehow-still-standing desk and flopped onto his stomach on the bed. He didn’t even bother with the thin ratty covers, knowing it would only hurt him more.
It took longer than Harry thought it would to fall asleep, but eventually he slipped out of consciousness and into the (relatively) pain-free land of nightmares dreams.
Harry woke up a while later, curled into a ball, drenched in sweat, and panting from a nightmare he didn’t remember. It was still dark, making him think he’d only been asleep an hour or so.
He froze, breath turning quieter when he heard footsteps outside his door. They (most likely Vernon) huffed and walked away. Harry sighed, forcing himself up and off the bed. He was sure he wouldn’t be getting any more sleep tonight.
He stared at Hedwig’s cage for a moment.
When had he let her out?
…
Oh.
Beans.
Petunia.
Vernon.
Burns.
Well… At least that explained the sticky, numb kind of feeling on his back.
Harry then turned his attention to the ground, finding…
Three? Cans of beans?
Three?
If he had three cans on his floor, then how long-?
That thought was immediately cut off when Harry heard a quiet knock against the house and whispered voices under his window. He scrambled under the bed as quickly and quietly as he could.
“What if-?” One started.
“We’ll be fine,” Two shot back.
“Stop being such a wuss,” Three taunted.
“I’m not-!” One said way too loud.
“Sush!” Two and Three chorused.
The voices were closer now, and Harry knew they were familiar, but from where? He knew these people, he was sure of it.
What do you have to lose anyway? Harry’s brain rasped.
Nothing. Harry told it, knowing the question didn’t really need an answer.
He wiggled out from under the bedframe just as the intruders came up to the window.
“Fred!” Harry whispered, excited.
“Hey, lamb!” Fred whispered back. Harry didn’t know why Fred had started calling him ‘lamb,’ but he couldn’t say he minded. He was a little confused why it was only Fred that called him that, not both twins, but Harry didn’t want to ask.
“We’re here-” George started their normal twin… Thing. He was out of sight from Harry, but his voice was distinct enough for Harry to know exactly who was speaking. Besides, was there ever a time one twin was seen without the other?
“To get-” Fred continued.
“You out!” George finished.
“How-? Why-?” Harry had so many questions.
“Let’s get out of here first, alright? Then you can ask as many questions as you want,” Fred offered softly.
“Within reason!” George called quietly.
Harry shook himself out of it and nodded, smiling for the first time that summer. He bent down to get the shirt he tossed on the floor… Yesterday? And heard Fred inhale sharply. Harry quickly pulled the shirt on, blushing. He’d forgotten he was injured and, even if Fred and George had said they didn’t mind his injuries, he still did not want to worry them.
He grabbed his spelled bag that carried all his books and school supplies and threw the rest of his clothes into it. He then gave the bag to Fred, who passed it down to George, and most likely, Ron.
“My broom…” Harry whispered, mostly to himself.
“Where is it?” Fred asked. “The cupboard again? With your other things?”
“No- Well, yes. My broom is there, but all my other things are in the bag. It’s spelled to be lighter and bigger.”
“Smart kid,” Geroge muttered.
“Thanks!” Harry grinned.
“Why don’t you come down? We’ll get your broom and then go before the Dursleys even know you’re awake!”
“How will you get in? The door is locked and- Actually, never mind, I’m not sure I want to know,” Harry laughed quietly as he made his way to the window. The twins were, apparently, on a ladder with Ron holding the bottom steady.
Fred was acting as if Harry was fragile, which was a bit nice, as he’d never had anyone do that for him before, but also a little bit annoying for the same reason. Once they were all safely down, (and Harry saw that Ron had his bag) Ron gave Harry a brief, but tight, hug.
Harry tried not to cry.
“Gald you’re alive, mate,” Ron whispered into his shoulder.
“Me too,” Harry choked out.
He and Ron made their way to the still running car while Fred and George put the ladder back and did… Something to get his broom.
“Alright, you’ll be in the back with Fred and I, and George is riding in the front because he called it first, the bloody wanker,” Ron whispered the last part under his breath. Harry tried not to laugh.
Then the sentence really caught up with him.
“Wait, if we’re all passengers, then who’s driving?”
The window of the driver’s side door rolled down, revealing, yet another, Weasley sibling.
“I don’t think you two have formally met,” Ron started. “Harry, this is Charlie. Charlie, Harry,” Ron gestured to each of them.
“Hi,” Harry waved weakly.
Charlie opened his mouth, likely to comment on Harry’s… Everything. He was sure he was a mess, but there was a loud bang from inside the house before Charlie could say a word.
Both Harry and Ron turned to look. But all Harry saw was a blur of red and brown as Ron opened the door of the car and shoved Harry in the middle seat. Fred and George were laughing as they ran from Vernon, Harry’s broom in hand. Vernon also had… Horns? On his head? And-
Holy Merlin! Was that a tail!?
“Get back here!” Vernon thundered, waddling as fast as he could after the twins. Harry couldn’t hide his flinch or the way he tensed at Vernon’s anger, even if he was amused by the new… changes.
“Drive, drive, drive!” Fred and George shouted.
“What did you do!?” Charlie cried, getting ready to drive away.
George slid across the hood of the car and got into the front, slamming the door shut. Fred stuffed the broom across the back seat and just barely had enough time to get in himself before Vernon was trying to grab at them.
As soon as Fred closed the door, Charlie sped off, spinning the tires for a moment before they actually got moving.
The car was silent for a few seconds.
Then Harry accidentally snorted.
And all hell broke loose.
Everyone but Charlie was laughing, while the oldest Weasley brother there was just muttering something about stupid siblings and rescue missions, but Harry saw his faint smile.
Eventually, Harry’s laughing turned into actual crying. Fred, somehow always knowing how to help, pulled him in for a gentle hug. Harry thought he would break then. But… Well… He was entirely unprepared for Ron to hug him too.
“It’s alright,” Fred whispered. “You’re safe.”
“I’m sorry,” Harry gasped. Fred moved his hands to cup Harry’s face and wipe away his tears. It wasn’t terribly effective.
“You have nothing to apologize for, alright?” Fred told him, still holding his face. “You did good, you did good.”
Harry woke up again when Fred gently shook him awake.
“’M up, ‘m up,” Harry slurred, still half asleep.
“Uh-huh,” George laughed.
“Come on, lamb. Let’s get you inside,” Fred said softly.
Harry only hummed, not wanting to move.
“Fine,” Fred huffed.
Then Harry was picked up, bridal style, and carried… somewhere. All he knew was it was cold, so he huffed unhappily and nuzzled himself into the warm body carrying him, earning a small laugh and tighter hold, then it was warm, and Harry was put down on something soft.
But that Soft made his burns rub against his shirt.
Harry yelped quietly and sat up.
He was in the Burrow, on the Weasley’s couch, with Fred hovering over him looking worried and guilty.
“Sorry, lamb,” he slowly moved his hand to Harry’s hair and scratched it a bit. “You alright? I forgot…”
“No worries,” Harry mumbled, once again happy knowing he was safe at the Burrow.
Fred hummed, obviously not believing him, but let it drop.
“Alright,” Mrs. Weasley said, coming into the room. “Let’s see.”
“Sorry,” Fred told Harry. “I was worried and wanted Mum to look at your back. I was hoping you’d stay asleep. Everyone else is upstairs.”
“Oh… Yeah, okay,” Harry murmured, tugging his shirt over his head.
Mrs. Weasley gasped, and Harry curled in on himself a bit.
“It’s not you, Harry,” Fred reassured him. “We’re just worried about the burns themselves, okay? It’s not you, baby.”
Harry nodded and shut his eyes. He felt Mrs. Weasley’s magic on his back a few moments later, healing and soothing the burns. Feeling the blisters heal that quickly was… Weird. But soon enough, it was over.
“All done, sweetheart,” she told him.
Harry nodded and opened his eyes to ask Fred if he could put his shirt back on, hopefully silently.
“You want the shirt back on, yeah?”
Harry nodded.
Fred helped him, then Mrs. Weasley handed him a plate of food. Harry instinctively looked to Fred for the okay to actually eat. Fred nodded, smiling. So, Harry started wolfing down the food.
“Don’t choke, lamb,” Fred laughed. “Wouldn’t want to die now, would we? After we just saved you?”
Harry just glared but did eat slower. Fred had a point.
“Fred, may I talk to you?” Mrs. Weasley asked. Fred nodded, giving Harry one more smile before stepping over to his mother and being enveloped in a silencing charm.
However…
They only put up the silencing charm. So, he didn’t have a chance at hearing them…
But Harry could read lips.
He passively ate his food while reading their every word.
‘What is it?’ Fred started.
‘Where did you find him? What happened?’ Mrs. Weasley shifted, wringing her hands together, clearly a bit nervous.
‘At the Dursleys,’ Fred seemed to spit the family name with venom. ‘There were cans of beans on the floor of his room, as if that was all they were feeding him. They weren’t even open! And there were three. I don’t know the last time he ate Mum.’
‘Oh, great Merlin,’ Mrs. Weasley put a hand to her mouth.
‘Why that reaction?’ Fred asked, his nose wrinkled, and hands clenched at his sides. ‘No one has ever cared about this before. Professor McGonagall brushed us off when George and I brought up our concerns. The Headmaster told us to stop looking. That he was safe. One glance at him could tell you otherwise! He always comes back to school thinner than the year before with different injuries! And we’ve tried to tell you. And Dad, but you’ve never listened!’
‘I’m so sorry, sweetheart,’ Mrs. Weasley seemed genuinely upset. ‘We were both lied to and placed under compulsion charms by Al- Him. I know it’s no excuse, but- What?’ Mrs. Weasley asked when Fred put a hand up and was-
Oh no.
He was looking right at Harry.
Harry snapped his head back down to the plate he was given, hoping to find food to distract him. The stupid plate was empty.
Bugger, He thought.
“Hey, lamb,” Fred said, causing Harry to jump from the sudden noise and look up again. Fred had his arms in front of him, palms facing Harry, while his mother watched from behind him, discreetly wiping her eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you alright?”
Harry nodded.
“Right,” Fred drew out the word, making sure they both knew he thought Harry was lying. “Can you read lips, love?”
Harry tensed up and closed his eyes, waiting for the hit. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen, but his entire life had taught him to always assume the worst. So, when he felt a hand touch his face, Harry flinched.
But the pain never came. And another hand joined the first (that was just resting there?), making Harry flinch again.
Neither hand moved.
They were just cupping his face.
Why?
Why was there no pain?
What was happening?
He was caught doing something he shouldn’t have been, so where was the punishment? The pain?
Harry only noticed the tears streaming down his face when he heard a hushed ‘oh, baby,’ and felt the hands gently wipe the warm tears away. And, as if those hands were all he needed, Harry let out a sob.
Merlin, Harry thought. How many times can Harry cry today, huh?
He was slowly pulled against (he was assuming) Fred and enveloped in the most comforting hug he’d ever gotten. Which, apparently, just told his body to cry more.
Fred held him through it all, rubbing his back and scratching the back of his head, until Harry had calmed down enough to be coherent.
“Do you want to tell me what happened there?” Fred asked.
“I’m sorry,” Harry mumbled.
“For what, lamb?”
“Eavesdropping,” he responded pulling away a bit, but still not looking at Fred. “I know it was wrong; you wouldn’t have cast the silencing spell if you wanted me to know what you were talking- I’m sorry,” he finished quietly.
“You have nothing to apologize for, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said, handing him a cup. Harry took it, wearily, smelled it, then took a careful sip.
Hot chocolate!
Harry hummed happily, closing his eyes and melting into the couch cushions.
“We’re not mad, lamb,” Fred told him. Harry looked over to him, finding a different mug in his hands.
“We are just… Concerned, is all,” Mrs. Weasley smiled gently.
Harry was silent for a moment.
“Would you like to tell us what happed? Just over this summer?” Fred asked.
“Sure,” Harry shrugged one shoulder. “Though I don’t remember most of it,” he told them, then he launched into what he did remember of the summer.
At some point, Hedwig popped into his head.
“…Hedwig- Oh Merlin, Hedwig! Do you know where she is!? I told her to come here, but she made it, right!? She’s okay!?” Harry asked frantically.
“Harry, Harry, she’s fine,” Fred laughed. “She made it just fine. She’s upstairs with George now.”
“Oh, good,” Harry sighed, relaxing again. “I was so worried…”
“She’s alright. I’m sure she would be happy to see you, once we’re done here,” Mrs. Weasley told him, voice catching on a few words.
“Please,” Harry answered.
“I think you’ve told us enough about… them,” Mrs. Weasley glared at the floor for a second, before looking back at Harry with the same warm expression Harry had come to know. “Now, do you know why Dumbledore is so insistent on you returning there?”
Harry shook his head.
“He mentioned something about a blood ward, though, but I don’t know what that means or if it’s of any use.”
“I believe it’s enough to get started. Thank you, sweetheart. Fred, could you take Harry, here, up to your room to see Hedwig, then to Ron’s to sleep?”
“Sure, Mum. You ready, lamb?” Fred handed his mug to his mother and held out a hand for Harry.
Harry, after also handing his mug to Mrs. Weasley, took Fred’s hand.
Fred nodded and smiled, leading Harry up the winding steps of the Burrow.
Harry heard Hedwig before he saw her. He let go of Fred’s hand and rushed to where he heard his owl.
“Hedwig!” Harry called when he rounded a corner to see his bird on George’s shoulder. Hedwig hooted and flew to Harry, who held an arm out for her to land on. Harry gave her some head pats and nuzzles and bumps, only stopping when he felt like crying again.
“Good girl,” Harry told her.
“She really loves you, Hazzy,” George told him. “She did not want to stay up here. I reckon she knew you were here and wanted to make sure you were alright.”
“Really?” Harry asked, yawning.
“Yeah, lets get you to bed, huh, baby?” Fred offered.
Harry only nodded, suddenly unable to keep his eyes open. He felt Hedwig leave him and settle somewhere else in the room. Then, most likely Fred, led him to a bed. He laid down and felt the heavy, warm covers be settled over him.
“G’night, Ma,” Harry slurred, already half asleep.
“Night, lamb,” Fred choked out.
The last snippet of conversation Harry heard before darkness overtook him started with George’s sincere voice.
“You really do make a good Ma to him.”
Then Fred’s response of:
“You think?”
“I know. Ma.”