Chapter Text
When Harry Potter was sent to Hogwarts to live with his uncle, he was the most unprepossessing child ever seen. He had a thin little body, unruly dark hair, large glasses, and a closed-off expression quite disagreeable in one so young.
His parents had died when Harry was very young, and he'd been sent to live with his maternal aunt and uncle in Little Whinging where his uncle, Vernon Dursley, was the representative for a large and important company. His aunt, Petunia, was reputed to be a great beauty, and cared only to go to parties and amuse herself with important and elegant people. She hadn't wanted Harry at all, and only took him in because she was the only blood relation he had left. And so Harry was handed over to the care of an au pair and promptly forgotten.
Dudley, his cousin, had also been turned over to the nanny but whereas Harry was ignored by the servants in general, Dudley was obeyed and given his own way in everything, so that by the time he was six years old, he was as tyrannical and selfish a little pig as ever lived. Dudley was the same age as Harry, but they were as different as two boys could be. Where Harry was thin, Dudley was fat. Where Harry was quiet and self-effacing, Dudley was loud and pushy. Where Dudley was always dressed in the latest and most expensive clothes, Harry was given Dudley's cast-offs when they became too worn or too small for him to wear.
During summer vacation, Dudley's favourite sport was to chase and torment Harry, unless it was too wet or hot. On days like that, Dudley would lie on the couch, watching television and eating chocolate and biscuits. Harry didn't spend much time in the house in the summer. In fact, he left after dressing in the morning and didn't re-enter until Dudley had gone up to bed. Fortunately, Dudley was rarely at home during the rest of the year.
When Dudley was six, Petunia had engaged a private tutor for the boys (thinking that Harry could make himself useful for a change and help Dudley with his homework). The first tutor had disliked Dudley so much that he gave up his place in three months, and when other tutors came to try to teach them, they went away in a shorter time than the first one. In the end, Dudley was sent away to the junior school Vernon had attended, the au pair dismissed, while Harry was more ignored than ever. So if Harry had not really wanted to learn how to read, he would never have managed at all.
Harry liked to read. More than that, he liked to read in a secret hiding place he had made for himself at the back of the garden where the yew hedges grew thick enough to hide him away from the rest of the world. He would wriggle through a hole in the hedge, a hole too small for Dudley to fit through, and slither on his belly like a snake until he reached the corner where the yew made a perfect little nest. In the colder weather, he'd take some old blankets he'd found in the rubbish with him and wrap up in it to stay warm. In the summer, it was cool under there, almost as cool as the house.
Harry would pull out the book he'd borrowed from the bookcases in the living room (they had come with the place and Vernon Dursley had kept them because they made him look more educated) and read for hours. His favourites were tales of magic and adventure, and after he'd finished the books, he'd lie in his green nest and imagine that he was a great sorcerer or a mighty wizard. In his dreams, he was more powerful than the Dursleys and they cowered before him - even Dudley - but he was magnanimous and spared their lives before banishing them from his kingdom forever.
He was reading in his little nest one day in December when he heard his aunt come out into the garden with someone else. He peeked through the shrubbery and saw that it was a fair-haired man wearing an odd sort of uniform. Harry watched them curiously and wondered why the man looked so solemn and his aunt so frightened.
"Is it so very bad?" she asked.
"Worse than the Prophet lets on," the man said.
Petunia scowled, and Harry thought it made her look less lovely and more like a horse. "Surely they won't attack here? Dumbledore - "
"Begging your pardon, ma'am, but Minister Fudge has his doubts about Dumbledore's ability to keep the Death Eaters in check. You-know-who may be dead, but his followers have been growing steadily over the past two years. Attacks on Muggles in the area are increasing. You ought to leave immediately, Mrs Dursley."
"Nonsense! I'm hosting a very important party this weekend and I simply cannot leave. Besides, Dumbledore assured me that the protections in place are very strong."
Harry heard no more as they went back into the house. He closed his book and lay there with his chin resting on his hands, thinking about what he had heard. What were Muggles? Who was Dumbledore? And what was a Death Eater?
Puzzling over those words and snuggled up warm in his blanket, he fell asleep.
For the next few days, the entire household was occupied with getting ready for the dinner party. Several of Vernon's most important clients were attending, and Petunia's reputation as a hostess was at stake. Petunia had ordered a new suit for Dudley, as he was home for the Christmas holidays, and Harry privately thought that his cousin looked like a small whale in the black suit.
Needless to say, Harry would not be attending the party.
Two hours before the party, Cook roughly shoved a piece of unbuttered bread into Harry's hands, and Maid pushed him out the back door. Harry carefully tucked it into the pocket of his oversized jacket, grabbed his favourite books and a torch, and made his way to his hiding place. Before crawling into the nest, he looked up wistfully at the Christmas lights decorating the house and garden, and listened to the chattering servants as they went about their work. His stomach growled as delicious scents wafted through the air, and he sighed as he pulled out the piece of bread. Wishing he could block out all sounds of the merriment he was excluded from, he crawled into his nest, wrapped himself up in his blanket, pulled out a book and the torch, and started reading. He didn't notice the faint glow that surrounded his hiding place, the sign that a Silencing spell had been put in place.
He also didn't notice when, hours later, the sounds of merriment changed into screams of terror as a dozen masked and dark-robed figures burst into the house above and began firing off curses.
Harry opened his eyes to find that it was morning and that his glasses had slid off his nose to join his book and the flashlight in the dirt. He rubbed his eyes and put the glasses back on, then sat up and looked around. It was very quiet, and he wondered what time it was. It must have been very early for he couldn't even hear the servants going about their morning work.
He sighed; Maid was sure to punish him for being out all night - if she had even noticed that he was gone. He decided to try sneaking into his bed before she noticed. Picking up his book, he crawled out of his hiding place and looked around.
It was obviously later than he'd thought, for the air was already still and hot. There was a vague smell like old smoke in the air, and something else unpleasant he didn't recognize. There was not a sound to be heard.
Puzzled and wary, Harry crept out of the bushes and headed towards the house. Hoping that Cook would be asleep after last night's festivities, he opened the back door and peered inside.
The kitchen was empty, the stove cold, and the table littered with last night's dishes. Harry frowned; it wasn't like Cook to allow such mess. Feeling more uneasy by the moment, he paused only to grab a slice of bread from one of the plates, a piece of fruit, and a brown bottle sitting on the table. Then he retreated to his secret spot to break his fast and think.
It was possible that the Dursleys had decided to go off on holiday for Christmas, or perhaps to safety as that man had suggested. But why would they have taken Cook and Maid? And if they'd left the servants, why had they left the kitchen in such disarray?
Harry sipped the contents of the bottle, not sure what it was. But he was thirsty, so he drained the bottle. The drink made him so sleepy that he could scarcely keep his eyes open, so he curled up into a ball and went to sleep.
When he awakened, Harry rolled onto his back and stared up at the shrubbery overhead. He wondered if someone would eventually notice he was missing and come looking for him. He heard something rustling in the leaves and when he looked down, he saw a little snake gliding along, watching him with eyes like jewels. He was not frightened. He often talked to the little grass snakes.
"How queer and quiet it is," he said. "It sounds as if there were no one in the house but me and the snake."
*Two-legged thingssss come.* the snake hissed.
Harry sat up. "Really? Where are they?"
*Over there!* The snake lifted its head, turning it toward the house. Almost the minute he did, he heard the back door open and low voices speaking.
"What devastation!" he heard one voice say. "How many Death Eaters do you think there were?"
"Hard to tell," another voice said. "Eight or more, at the least. The poor bastards didn't stand a chance."
"Good thing the Ministry removed the bodies earlier. Could barely sort them out as it was."
"Pity; she was a pretty thing once. Dursley and the child, too, I suppose?"
"Should have left when I warned her."
Harry recognized that voice. It was the man who'd been there earlier in the week. He crept out to the edge of bushes, listening intently, hoping to find out where his aunt and uncle had gone.
"Silly thing; insisted on staying because of a party. Lot of good that did her."
The man turned around and looked across the garden, straight at Harry. Spotting him, he froze.
"Mundungus!" he cried out. "There's another child here! A child alone, in a place like this! Merlin help us, who is he?"
Harry felt the urge to run away and hide; his uncle would certainly be cross with him for letting people outside the family see him. But his aunt would be even angrier if he was rude to her friends.
"I'm Harry," he said politely. "I'm sorry, but the Dursleys appear to have left. I don't know where Cook and Maid are, but if I see them, I can give them a message for my aunt and uncle."
"It's the child no one ever saw," said the man, turning to his companion. "It's Harry Potter!"
Harry was surprised that the man knew his name.
One of the other men, dressed like the first, came forward. "Haven't you been in the house, lad?"
"I'm not allowed," Harry said simply. "Do you know where everyone is?"
The man who the other had called Mundungus looked at him very sadly. "Poor kid," he said. "There's nobody left."
It was in that strange and sudden way that Harry found out he'd been orphaned again. That was why the place was so quiet. There was no one in the house but himself and the little snake.