Chapter Text
Harry felt his scar itch, his eye twitched trying to contain the urge to scratch it.
It went from just below his hairline down to his eye. Uncle Vernon has always told him it looked freakish paired with the eery green eyes he had.
Harry had tried to ignore the comments of his freakish scar— but it made him vulnerable. It’s so distinct and so Harry, he couldn’t help but feel like all people could see was his scar.
But it doesn’t matter, he’s locked up in the cupboard. He’s always been.
Tonight he was sent to his cupboard without any food, Vernon saying that his freakish presence was gonna impact his possible raise.
Vulnerability could not be shown if he’s locked in such a small place, no. He’s the biggest thing here excluding his mattress.
It was still uncomfortable, who knows how long they plan to keep him in here. Will it be until he’s a teen? With long awkward limbs that can’t be locked in a small cupboard? Or will it be till he’s an adult? So large he couldn’t have his things in his room anymore— as if he owned much anyway.
Harry bit his lip. His eyes darting around the cupboard
He’s been here for years yet he couldn’t help but have his moments. Moments where he felt so trapped his breathing became uneven.
It’s all he ever known but even his body knew this was just not how it’s supposed to be.
He’s not supposed to be here. He’s supposed to have a family, he’s supposed to be with people who love him.
But no, he’s surrounded by love which will be never meant for him. Not for a freak like him.
Freaks don’t deserve love, do they?
He flinched when he heard scratching noises from within his room.
Were there mice again? He winced, not wanting to remember the sight of mice biting through the walls and looking at him with their bulging eyes.
They were scary, and they can bite.. he shivered.
Should he tell aunt Petunia? Maybe tell her that her little ‘Duddykins’ will be bitten by one of them if she keeps letting them roam around.
Maybe tomorrow. He concluded biting the nail of his index finger. Bad habit he couldn’t care less to improve.
They wouldn’t care anyway.
The spiders were friendly atleast, they were the only friends he had while in the cupboard.
It might sound stupid but with years and generations of familiar spiders they became quite tame.
Harry wishes the spiders could speak, they let him pet them and love crawling onto his arms.
One was crawling onto the wall right next to a piece of paper.
He looked at the drawing of the ‘family’ he’d once drawn a few years ago.
He’d heard about his parents a few times, and the few times their appearances were mentioned he held them to heart.
His father had glasses shaped just like his. Petunia might’ve given them to him on purpose just so that she wouldn’t have to stare at his vibrant green eyes that was said he shared with his mother.
He traced along the stick figures with longing.
How his heart yearned for love, for comfort.
His lips curled with bitterness.
The scratching continued. Harry’s brows furrowed. What could the mice possibly be chewing on?
He looked at the source and found—
Not a small mouse ready to pounce, no..
A small locked door right next to him.
Harry’s never seen this before, not his 9 years of living with the Dursley’s.
Or maybe it didn’t seem as important— but he swore.. he knew this wasn’t here.
He couldn’t possibly be this oblivious of his own room he knows from the back of his hand.
He was curious, could he.. open it?
The lock didn’t seem sturdy
Harry’s eyes flickered elsewhere, nervous, before looking back at the tiny door and letting his hands tug.
He tugged, the door rustled but didn’t open.
He tugged harder, the door rustled again, louder this time but still didn’t open.
Harry frowned. His brows tightly knit.
He’s dead curious now. He needs to open this..
His scar faintly itched again. His distress must’ve caused it, nerves do that..
But—
Click!
The door opened.
The inside looked magical and it was big enough for Harry to crawl through.
Harry didn’t hesitate when he bravely crawled into the— magical tunnel, he’ll call it.
The lights were soft, tiny shimmering stars moving within the path. It was beautiful.
The epitome of freakishness. Harry echoed in the back of his mind.
Light goosebumps appeared on his shoulder, a feather-like touch grounding him.
It was a spider on his shoulder, comforting him while his thoughts were getting louder.
Harry gently pet the small spider the best he could, “Thank you.”he whispered softly, and continued crawling.
The magical tunnel suddenly urged him to come forth.
He felt a pull and—
He went through the tunnel and crashed into a door, before he could gain his balance the door open and let him fall onto his nose.
CRACK!!
The glasses fell off his nose with a thud.
“Ah..” His glasses..
Harry bit his lip so hard it bled. Fuck. He can’t see at all.
Well maybe that’s an exaggeration, but he’s so anxious he can’t try to—
The spider— which now looked like a black dot crawled back onto his lower arm.
The goosebumps grounding him once again.
“True.. I do have to calm down.” Harry wiped the blood off with his other hand.
He finally gazed around at the cupboard that was nearly identical— apart from his stuff no longer being here.
The broken toy cars he snatched up from Dudley when he was about to throw them into the trash, the very few pieces of bubblegum he had found incase he was too desperate, the oversized clothes he stuffed in his mattress for warmth..
“What..? Where..” even his drawings were gone.
He needed to stop panicking, but his belongings..
“Harry!” He heard a woman cheer. “Harry where are you, dearie? Are you hiding in the cupboard again, lovely?”
The petnames felt foreign. Did she have the right Harry?
He opened the cupboard door(unlocked?!) and snuck a glance.
“There you are!” He gasped as the door flung opened and hands suddenly grabbed him.
“Harry.” The voice felt gentle in his ear.
His heart was pounding, but not out of panic..
Those bright green.. buttons?
The fiery orange hair was the same.. the lip form familiar to aunt petunias, as far as he could tell without his glasses..
But, those buttons?
Harry couldn’t believe his eyes.
“Is that really you, mum?” He asked, his voice unsteady. He winced.
“Of course, Harry.” Ah.. Harry is really going to start crying with this motherly voice. The gentle way she held him was the same way he always imagined being held— better even.
He held his tears, but smiled with joy. His heart was about to burst.
He yearned for this, a family.
He couldn’t take it.
“Oh mum!” He cried— the word he’d always wanted to say, the word Petunia loathed to hear from his mouth— hugging her tightly, his face perfectly fitting in the side of her neck.
‘Lily’ giggled softly, Harry heard the fond smile in her voice. “Oh Harry, such a baby.” She led Harry to rest onto her hand instead, to kiss the scarred eye. “But I prefer you as a baby, my baby.” She cooed.
Harry was gonna melt with all this affection.
But his heart stayed solid.
He felt cautious.
He had no idea why! It was mum here, no? His mother..
But those buttons, the steady affection coming in streams.
It felt.. fabricated.