Chapter Text
Nine-year-old Harry Potter was doing his daily chores, albeit slower than usual due to one arm being out of commission. Last week, Uncle Vernon came home, face already purple with rage. The young boy knew that night was not going to end well for him. It didn’t matter that the child had nothing to do with his uncle being passed up for a promotion. In fact, he couldn’t even remember what reasoning, if any, was given for his punishment. But he did know that his arm was at least fractured, if not broken. His aunt and uncle couldn’t have been bothered by taking him to the hospital but Harry wasn’t fussed about it. He had gotten remarkably good at first aid for someone his age. He made a splint for his arm using a book and some duct tape and he used his thickest winter scarf and fashioned a sling to keep it still.
There was a knock at the door and Harry, being the only one in the home, as his aunt and uncle had taken their son to the local swimming pool, answered the door like he was trained to do. He hid his injured arm behind the door as much as possible. He looked up at two police officers one of which was smiling down at him with kind eyes and a brilliant smile, the other scowling while watching the boy with a strange expression on his face, one that Harry couldn’t read and made him nervous.
“Hello. I’m officer Shacklebolt. Are your parents home?” The kind looking man asked the child who promptly shook his head in the negative. “Do you know when they will be home?”
Harry, who had been trained to speak to adults in a way that doesn’t arise suspicion about his home life, chose his words carefully. “No sir, but they shouldn’t be too long. Unfortunately, I’m not allowed to let people into the house when they are away.”
“Smart move kid.” Mumbled the second officer in a gruff voice. Shacklebolt rolled his eyes at his partner and turned his attention back to the boy, opening his mouth to speak when a car pulled into the driveway, honking obnoxiously. Uncle Vernon stuck his head out the window and started demanding to know why the police were at his door. Harry tensed up the tiniest bit, which did not go unnoticed by the second officer. Kingsley turned to the large man as he stepped out of the car. He starts talking explaining to the Dursley’s that there had been a recent burglary a few homes over and how the whole family should be extra careful to lock the doors and keep an eye out for suspicious persons.
Harry leaned forward slightly to hear, unfortunately, that made a bit of his incapacitated arm visible from the other side of the door. At which point the second officer took notice immediately and he pushed the door open and finally took in the full sight of the boy. He was small for his age, looking to be no older than six or seven. He was far too skinny, a characteristic that was only accented by the large clothes he was swimming in. He had bright green eyes that were huge behind his broken glasses and his hair was sticking out all over the place in a messy mop of hair. He had a few dark bruises that were visible and he seemed to shake a bit in response to his relatives pushing past the first officer in an attempt to get into the house.
“Moody.” At that, the second officer whips around and blocks the door to the house from Harry’s fuming uncle.
“LET ME THROUGH THAT GODDAMN DOOR! THIS IS MY HOUSE! WHAT RIGHT DO YOU HAVE – ARGH” Harry jumped back as his uncle was pushed forcefully against the wall next to the door by the officer named Moody.
“Shacklebolt. Get the boy to pack a bag and call for backup and a social worker. We will assess the safety of the other child when they get here.”
His partner wasted no time calling in backup using some code for the situation at hand and knelt in front of the boy who was now cowering in the corner with his eyes bulging in fear. “What’s your name?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“H-Harry.” The boy said hesitantly.
“Alright Harry,” Shacklebolt said with a smile. “Why don’t you show me to your room, and we can talk while you pack some of your things in an overnight bag.” A few moments passed with only the sounds of Vernon grunting as he tried to get through the door, Petunia screeching about what the neighbors must be thinking and Officer Moody grumbling obscenities under his breath before Harry nodded and grabbed the kind officer’s extended hand. He led the man down the hallway to a tiny door next to the kitchen. Officer Shacklebolt opened his mouth to question why they weren’t going upstairs when the small boy opened the door and all words died on the tip of the man’s tongue. Inside the cupboard was a thin cot that took up nearly the entire floor. It had a few blankets and a flat pillow on it along with a small teddy bear that was coming apart at the seams. At the foot of the ‘bed’ was a wooden crate that once carried a shipment of apples if the faded labels were anything to go by. Stacked on the crate was a pile of books, a flashlight, and a plastic water bottle. Next to the crate was a small pile of clothes that were worn, had holes and appeared to be far too large for the scrawny boy next to him.
When he looked back down at Harry, the boy was quietly putting his meager belongings into a single large paper bag, which he then clutched tightly with his good hand and looked up at the officer hesitantly. Kingsley Shacklebolt just stared, trying not to cry. Five years on the force and he had never seen anything even remotely close to this situation. Before he could say anything, several officers entered the house followed by a woman he knew to be Amelia Bones. Bones looked between Harry, Kingsley and the cupboard and held back a sigh although her shoulders did drop a bit and her eyes softened.
~~~~~
A few hours later, Harry was sitting in the back of a car with Amelia Bones next to one window with the raven haired boy at the other, his paper bag filled with everything he had ever owned sitting on his lap. He was leaning his head against the window, struggling to stay awake as the sun had already set an hour earlier and he had an eventful day. Officer Shacklebolt and Ms. Bones had sat Harry on the couch and told him that they were going to take him away from his aunt and uncle, at which point the boy burst into tears rambling on with apologies and swears that he was a good boy and begging them not to ship him off to a home for troubled boys. After calming the boy down, they gathered that Vernon Dursley had all but tortured the poor boy and was sent away in a police car. Petunia was assessed as a decent mother to her son, but Harry was to be put into the foster system, something all parties seemed to be pleased with.
After leaving Privet Drive, Harry was taken to the hospital where his arm was properly set and put into a cast while Amelia made phone calls to find an temporary home for the young boy. It was determined that an older lady named Mrs. Figg was to take the child in for the time being. The car stopped in front of her house and after a few introductions, a tour of the house and forms being signed, Amelia left the nine-year-old with a promise to visit in a few days. Harry watched the car drive away from the window and he was hit with sudden realization that he was alone in the world.
~~~~~
The next few years passed in a blur. In and out of a number of foster homes, some being more pleasant than others, and switching schools with alarming regularity. Harry had come to accept the fact that his luck was nonexistent and awaited the day of his eighteenth birthday when he would age out and be allowed to take care of himself, as if he hadn’t been doing so his whole life. He did well enough in school considering the fact that he had yet to stay at the same school for an entire year. And contrary to popular belief, he did try to keep out of trouble. But apparently, Harry had done something to upset the universe and it was taking its sweet revenge on the now sixteen-year-old. His smiles stopped reaching his eyes and his rare laughs were empty of any real emotion. He learned to read body language and always made sure to take note of the closest exit in every room he entered. But most importantly, he learned to never get attached to people.
At the age of fourteen, Harry had been placed into a foster home with a few other kids from the system. Sara, who was a few months away from her eighteenth birthday, at which point she planned to move into a small flat with her boyfriend Justin. Justin spent a lot of time at their foster home and insisted on calling him ‘Haz’ which of course, caught on with the others. Sara liked to tousle Harry’s already messy hair and taught him how to smoke weed. Taylor was ten and her parents had recently died in a car accident, not unlike his own parents had. Harry would help her with her homework after school and learned to braid her hair like her mom used to do. And then there was Theo.
Theo was only two months older than Harry and they often spent nights laying one of their beds in the room they shared, smoking and talking about everything. Theo was the first person Harry told when he realized he was bisexual and Theo just smiled at him and said that he was proud of him before passing the joint. Theo seemed to always know when Harry was about to have a panic attack and he knew exactly what to do to get him through them. Neither of them was very talkative but they communicated without words and quickly learned everything there was to know about each other. Theo had come from a wealthy family, but his mother had died when he was young and his father had been a drunk who liked to beat on his son. He told Harry about how when his father died, he was going to stay with his friend’s family who offered their home to him. He said they would’ve taken him in sooner, but his friend’s father was scared of Mr. Nott, as he was a very powerful man, and Theo couldn’t risk living in a place where his father could get to him so he had to wait. But he called the family on the phone at least once a week which Harry thought was nice. It made Harry happy to know that someone out there loved his friend as much as he did. He only wished there was someone out there to care for him. The five of them looked out for each other. They formed a bond that Harry imagined was similar to that of a family.
But just like with everything else in Harry’s life, that was taken from him. While Harry had found a home with the other kids he was living with, those particular foster parents weren’t the best he had stayed with. Four months into living with them, the man, Mr. Smith was arrested for starting a bar fight that landed someone in the hospital and while in custody, it was discovered that he and his wife were selling opioids on the black market and knowing her fate, Mrs. Smith promptly fled the country. Harry tried to keep up with the others, but he didn’t often have access to a phone. It was then, that Harry decided he would no longer get attached to anyone. It simply wasn’t worth it seeing as these kinds of things never last. Not for Harry.
Now, however, Harry sat at a desk, facing his history teacher, Ms. McKinnon. He didn’t really know why he was here. He was actually doing quite well in her class and he didn’t think he had been caught smoking cigarettes behind the gym recently so he just stared at his hands clasped on the desk, resisted the urge to ruffle his hair, a nervous habit he picked up, probably because of Sara. He tried to control his breathing and stop his leg from bouncing while he waited to hear what she had to say.
“Harry, you are quite a remarkable kid.” His head snapped up. In his entire life, he had never heard the word ‘remarkable’ used in the same sentence as his name except when he was being told how remarkably stupid he was. He quickly schooled his face. “I haven’t read your file, but I was given a general rundown. I’m not sure how many people you’ve met that have believed in you, but I do. I also believe that, given the proper environment, you could do great things. I get the sense that you try and go unnoticed. I have no doubt that it has saved you in the past. But one day, you’re going to have people that will genuinely want to help you. I just hope that when that day comes, you’re ready to accept it.”
Harry gave her a calculating look before speaking. “Is that all ma’am?” She sighed and nodded. He threw his backpack over one shoulder and left her classroom, off to succumb to his panic attack in the nearest bathroom.