Chapter Text
Summer had come once again for Harry and he was imprisoned, irritated and baffled. The last year had been tumultuous at best. He was forced into a deadly tournament, ostracised for the umpteenth time and had to watch a beloved classmate die. And because nothing was ever simple for Harry, he was forcibly bled to resurrect one “Lady Voldemort."
After everything he’d survived, he was shipped back to the Dursleys. Harry protested of course, but his words were utterly brushed aside. Even asking for a mind healer was futile; “an unnecessary risk” Albus Dumbledore insisted. Harry wasn’t surprised, in the past he had begged repeatedly, only Professor Flitwick had taken his distress seriously.
“Durskaban” was not an idyllic place, Petunia Dursley, his “beloved” Aunt, was pacing around. A vulture waiting, Harry’s own personal prison guard. Her reign demanded nothing less than perfection. Of course, her pride and joy, “Dudders” aka Dudley Dursley was not home, he had business to attend to; the art of smashing once pudgy hands into small children. Harry was of course revolted by both, but neither of them were his uncle. The man of the house, the esteemed Vernon Dursley, was shouting at the news, the absolute pinnacle of a normal and ordinary man.
Harry hated the Dursleys, but at least they were predictable. His musings were hastily interrupted by the barking of Hedwig. She flew through the open window and landed atop his head.
“Ger off you oversized pigeon."
Hedwig squawked indignantly and hit his head with her wings. He sighed and stretched out his arm; she jumped onto him, still squawking at the utter disrespect. Harry relented and hastily apologized, bribing her with a few scattered owl treats. Finally, he relinquished an envelope from her talons.
Harry,
It’s been a week and Gran is already driving me up the wall, there’s only so many times one can listen to her rant about Albus Bloody Dumbledore. Don’t even get her started on the Ministry, or Hogwarts, or really anything at this point.
So naturally, I’ve taken to working on the gardens extensively, well you know slightly more than usual. Anyways I hope things aren’t complete shite, tactless, I know but I am here for you, well when I’m not stopping the Venomous Tentacular strangling good ol Trevor.
P.S Dumbledore tried to convince my Gran that I shouldn’t write to you this Summer, Merlin knows what he’s trying to achieve. Of course she put him in his place.
PP.S Write to Astoria you absolute coward.
Your favourite Gryffindor
-Neville
Harry sighed fondly, envisioning Nevilles Gran berating Albus Too Many Names Dumbledore. The Longbottoms had a special place in his heart, Neville himself was his first true friend at Hogwarts. For starters he wasn’t caught up in the whole “Boy Who Lived” tripe.
Harry, of course had friends, in house, but it was a constant struggle. The other Claws typically saw him as a research project first, and a person second. Harry often felt isolated, finding solace in his books to manage, as he always has. Harry, however, was especially enamoured by magic, it was whimsical and held endless possibility. Occasionally he struggled with how behind he felt, or if he was even intelligent enough, let alone creative. Confidence certainly wasn’t instilled being raised by the Dursleys. So, Harry mostly stuck to his books, Neville and Hedwig.
The exception to all of this was Astoria, a classmate he had at first avoided at all costs. Where Harry was reserved and quiet, she was bold and vibrant, and determined to drag him with her into the spotlight.
Harry’s musing was interrupted by his belligerent Uncle.
“BOY!”
Exhaling loudly, he stepped downstairs, to face the Goliath. Instantly Harry was exiled outside, it was a Sunday after all, and “Freaks should not be lingering under his roof."
Little Whinging was a muggy affair; walking through the park Harry heard the nearby cries of the rampaging “Big D." Within seconds Harry was spotted and surrounded.
“If it isn’t our favourite specky twat", Piers Polkiss jabbered.
Harry ignored the rat faced boy, striding past Dudley and his vast array of mindless wonders. Of course this was to be expected, every time he stepped outside, they found him, tormented him and repeated it the next day. Honestly, they were more effective than half of Voldemort’s deranged plots, it was tragic really.
Between avoiding Dudley, hiding from Uncle Vernon, and the mountain of summer homework, Harry was constantly replaying the death of Cedric Diggory in his head. At night it encaged him, in the day Dudley preached it. Voldemort’s return was harrowing but the Ministry’s response was almost worse, no fucking wonder Riddle had sent the world to dust in the first place.
Dudley’s gang began their daily ritual, Trevor Haminghan slammed into him, Polkiss kicked him and Dudley leered. Harry had been working on enchanting a necklace to avoid all of this. He was imbuing a muggle repellent ward into a permanent enchantment, but it was unstable and convoluted, so every day he dealt with them.
Dudley laughed at his predicament, “Know your place FREAK”. The others joined him in his barrage of insults, “FUCKWIT", “BELLEND", “SCARHEAD."
Harry’s trial of verbiage by morons was interrupted with an abrupt chill, the grass shrivelled white and the air cut like ice. Dudley’s gang scattered in fright. Harry rose from the ground as he saw the approaching figures.
“Dudley, run!”
Harry had read about them of course, but no words could prepare him for the raw fear, Why the hell are there fucking dementors in Muggle Surrey!
Dudley slowly started to move himself, but the figures clutched him effortlessly, a shadowy mist squeezed Dudley in place.
Harry stepped forward, summoning his wand from its holster. It felt impossibly small in his grip. Harry had only ever read a few scattered references to the spell that could combat a Dementor. He shook, frozen and helpless. Little came to mind but fragments of half-remembered theories.
Harry did nothing. By this time the nearest Dementor had already raised its hood, Dudley was promptly choked, sickeningly the creature consumed him, Dudley collapsed, empty and soulless.
Harry watched and then ran erratically, they drifted after him effortlessly. Stumbling he persevered forward, he knew this was a hopeless pursuit, but what else he could really do. His mind was foggy and his heart was pulsing, he kept stepping forward but with every movement he slipped more and more. His vision waved black and white, and Harry fell. Images flashed through his head, an immense green light, a red-haired woman screaming, Cedric falling, Emily locking him in the chamber. A loud CRACK pierced the silence, and everything became black.
Silence stretched, shattered only by a distant Woman calling, a permanent frost slowly melting, nausea rushed like blood as Harry grasped to surface. Arms grabbed him as he woke, slowly he opened an eye, standing above was a woman with circling violet and crimson hair.
“Wotcher Harry."
Everything was shaky to him, like he was part of the fog that held Dudley. A small burst of warmth hit him as an ethereal Silver Hare danced around him.
“The… Dementors... Dudley?"
The Woman looked at him softly “Dudley?”
“My Cousin."
“Oh” she grimaced, slowly she wrapped her arm around his shoulder.
“Come on."
Harry fought to stay awake, as she gently pulled him towards Privet Drive. A lone tear rolling down his cheek, no one deserved this fate, even Dudley.
Privet Drive had never been so harrowing for Harry, he thanked the woman as she seemingly vanished. A Witch and two Dementors had entered Muggle Surrey, and he was somehow part of it. He was of course immensely grateful for the woman, but she was an anomaly. Why was she there in the first place? she was capable of extremely obscure esoteric magic, a fucking patronus.
Harry slowly entered the house, as his uncle rumbled at the TV, Harry quietly stepped past. He would tell them after he secured his stuff, there was no telling what they would do, they surely had no mercy for a “freak” that watched their son die and did nothing.
With his trunk packed, Harry channelled what magic he could wandlessly into the runic array he had built last Summer, the runes flashed blue as the trunk shrunk and became featherweight. Hedwig barked and jumped atop his shoulder, he glanced at his wand holster, preparing to face the remaining Dursleys.
Downstairs Petunia noticed him first, staring with her beady eyes, Vernon was still fighting the Television. Petunia shrieked “What do you want BOY." Harry stepped back slightly and Vernon rose towards both of them.
Harry eyed her warily and tried to explain calmly, but he was repeatedly interrupted. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM!”, Petunia shrieked.
Harry froze as the Dursleys' faces flushed crimson. At the same time, Dudley's collapse replayed behind his eyes, over and over.
“It was the Dementors."
“BOY! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU ON”, Vernon stepped towards Harry shaking.
Vernon closed the distance in two heavy strides. His hand clamped around Harry's throat “WHERES MY SON."
"They consume positive emotion... and if left unchecked..." Harry swallowed. "They can take a person's soul."
Harry gasped trying to breathe as Vernon grabbed his neck "H-he's... gone..." Vernon threw Harry hard at the wall, and Harry crumpled onto the floor.
Hedwig screeched and dive-bombed Vernon. Her talons raked across his face. Vernon roared and tried to punch her.
“HEDWIG” Harry screamed. He ejected his holly wand from its holster.
Vernon's face was streaked with blood, and an enraged Petunia slapped Harry repeatedly across the face.
“DEPUL-."
Petunia shrieked and snapped Harry’s wand.
CRACK.
Harry stared at the splintered holly in Petunia's hand.
Wandless and bloodied, he was shoved outside, Hedwig followed squawking in rage.
“BEGONE FREAK."
Harry slowly walked away from them “I’m sorry."
Vernon smirked “You’re full of shit. Dudley’s just fine."
The door slammed shut.
Harry staggered across the lawn, barely conscious.
Fuck.
Then came the sirens.
“Going somewhere?”
Harry turned and the same Woman from earlier smirked at him.
“Why, are you coming with me?”
“Oh… Is that an invitation?”
Harry forced another breath into burning lungs “Who are you?”
“Your shining Knight in Armor, of course."
Harry shook his head slightly, “That tracks."
“Now come along Harry, we have a lot to do”, she giggled.
She grabbed him by the arm and started to drag Harry down the footpath. Harry was fighting his narrowing vision.
Fuck it.
Hedwig threatened the woman with a glare from Harry’s shoulder.
In response, the woman twisted, and Harry gasped as he felt his body compress. Suddenly they were being pushed through an invisible pipe.
Harry panted for breath, the last of his resistance slipping away. He sprawled across unfamiliar grass as his vision dimmed.
He was a bloody sight, encircled by an overprotective owl and grim-faced woman.