Chapter Text
And so, the ride begins. I've greatly changed the story, so expect lots and lots of differences. As a preface, Harry is 5 - almost 6 - at the start of this story, and the story begins with him being born in 1990, not 1980. The relative timeline will be the same, though.
Note: This fic may seem similar to Kaleidoscopic Grangers at first, but it quickly charts its own course. The canon storyline is far from an accurate roadmap for the story I'll be telling.
Content Warning (Recurring): This fic will discuss dysphoria, trauma, ableism, eating disorders and dissociation throughout its progression.
Content Warning (Specific): This chapter will depict upsetting topics such as child abuse, neglect, trauma, ableism, abuse of a disabled person and physical abuse.
Content/Trigger Warnings like this will be present at the start of every chapter where such topics are portrayed.
=====Harry=====
Chapter 1: An Unheard Offer
=====Harry=====
July 4th, 1996
Harry wasn't exactly an odd sight these days, sitting forlorn on the swings. It'd become commonplace for Uncle Vernon to shoo him out until dark, only when it was absolutely necessary he be inside. Though Harry wasn't unaware of the fact that his Aunt, Uncle and cousin would be… more pleased than upset if he didn't come home one night. Even so, he returns as told at the exact time. Or at least, when the sun starts to set. Any earlier and he'd be smacked, any later and he'd be locked out and forced to sleep on the back porch - he'd learned from last time.
Tonight Harry's relatives were entertaining guests, as they did every other week or so, sometimes more. And that meant Harry wasn't allowed in the house. He didn't talk, but Vernon never trusted him to be truly quiet and just kicked him out and said not to return until he was supposed to. Supposedly Harry made a lot of noise, but... well, how was he to know that? Then again, Vernon always knew best.
The swings were, well. Harry liked them because they were away from where Dudley and his friends liked to play, and Uncle Vernon tolerated him playing there because it was far enough away from Privet Drive that he wouldn't be seen by anyone who'd matter to the Dursleys. The black words written on the door of the cupboard under the stairs were always there whenever Harry closed his eyes, 'Out of sight, out of mind.' Exactly where he was supposed to be. 'Don't get near anyone, don't let them talk to you, don't let anyone find out how useless you are, freak,' the other words always swam in his mind when he had time to think.
He wondered what words other kids read, or heard. Probably it was only a freak like him that had to read everything - nobody liked that they had to put in effort to make sure he could read so they could boss him around. Petunia usually carried a pack of flashcards she would angrily show him whenever she had a chore for him to do. Gardening was hard, because she especially got angry whenever she had to make a new card so he could read the instructions.
When out of the corner of his eye he caught movement, Harry immediately jerked his head up to look in that direction. He'd learned pretty quickly to keep a sharp eye out, since he'd never hear someone coming. So movement was quick to catch his attention. What he saw was a man, woman and a little girl - she was maybe his age? The man and girl had the same mousy-brown hair, with the man's being more straight, and the girls' being more frizzy and wild. The mother had black hair, a bit like Harry, but it was frizzy like the girls'. Pursing his lips, Harry got off the swing and went to walk off… but froze as he realized that the sun was still up - it might've been evening, but Uncle Vernon would kill him if he found out Harry was seen on Privet Drive. And the family was coming from the opposite direction.
He needed to make sure nobody could tie him to Vernon and Petunia, because he'd be in so much trouble if he didn't. But people liked talking to eachother. He couldn't talk, and they'd have questions if he couldn't answer them - questions he'd be unable to answer.
Before he could decide what to do, the family had come closer. The man waved slightly and said something, but not understanding, Harry just shook his head. The man seemed confused, and said something else to Harry. He just shook his head again, lips tightly pursed as he chewed at the inside of his cheek.
The man narrowed his eyes, and glanced to the woman with him - maybe his wife? Idly, Harry noticed that the girl had a book clutched to her chest - a fairly big one. She caught him looking at her, and said something towards him. He flinched and shook his head just as insistently as before, not noticing as he was getting so nervous that his right hand had begun rubbing his left arm - which lay straight at his side - rather intensely. He dully noticed the warmth, but didn't stop. The girl frowned, clearly confused. She said something again. And then Harry made a mistake.
Involuntarily, he made a noise. To him it just felt like a strong vibration in his throat and mouth, but he knew it had to be a loud enough noise because the man and woman both turned their attention to him. Their faces held concern, but Harry was filled with terror as his hand stopped rubbing and instead clenched his bicep tightly.
'Don't let anyone talk to you, don't make any noise,' two of Uncle Vernon's biggest rules. Broken. He began to shake as he tried to walk away - where he'd go, he wasn't sure - but his legs gave out and he fell. Because of how his arms were, he didn't break his fall right, and ended up landing pretty hard on his right side. It hurt, and stung badly. Before he could sit up however, the woman was by his side and gently helping him. He went stiff, mouth screwed shut, as she carefully helped him sit up. She asked something, but Harry only shook his head. Her brow furrowed as she seemed to contemplate something, and then after she sat him down properly, she used both hands for a couple of gestures, like touching one hand with the other and using that first hand like a mouth and closing it by her ear.
Harry didn't understand, of course, and once again just shook his head. The woman exchanged a worried look with the man, while the little girl had begun to get a bit closer, curiosity all over her face. The woman made a few more gestures, including drawing a line across her forehead with a finger. Once again not understanding, he just shook his head. The woman's expression became… one Harry didn't understand as she exchanged a look and some words with the man.
The man then came over and went to help Harry stand up, though he stiffened at the hand the man placed on his back, so instead he just offered his hand for Harry to use. Or at least, that's what he assumed because he didn't object when Harry did so.
The man then patted his pockets, seeming to look for something before holding his hands up in frustration. The woman rummaged through her handbag as Harry looked on– confused. He glanced at the sky - still sunlight, so he couldn't go back yet. But he had a worried feeling that if he tried to leave, they would stop him.
Then the woman pulled out a pen and a small pad of paper - the kind that stuck to surfaces at one side. Harry didn't remember the name, at the moment. The woman scrawled something on the top note, and then held it up for Harry. He squinted, but he could read it.
'Can you read this?' It asked. Harry thought it was strange to ask, but he nodded his head slightly. Though, at least he was grateful for the notes. Now he knew what they wanted to ask.
The woman's expression changed - though what it was now, Harry couldn't tell - and she scribbled something under that first sentence. As she showed it to him, he marveled at how pretty her handwriting was; much better than Uncle Vernon's, which was full of sharp letters and rather big. Hers was loopy and smooth, it looked even prettier than what he'd seen on newspapers, and definitely prettier than Aunt Petunia's, which was sharp and tiny.
'Are your parents around?' He shook his head. The woman removed the top note and handed it to the man. The little girl said something to the woman, and she gave a reply. The girl nodded, and went to sit down and read her book at one of the picnic tables. The woman scribbled on the second note, 'Could we move to the tables?'
Harry nodded, and they walked together, with Harry idly rubbing the back of his neck. As they sat, he shifted to put his hands in his lap, though he didn't fully notice as they began rubbing the outsides of his thighs, up and down.
The woman glanced at this, but chose instead to scrawl on the pad. Now that they were sitting, he could see what she was writing, and she would just look up at him to see his response, and he'd just nod or shake his head yes or no.
'Are you feeling alright?' Yes, though he'd lied. He just didn't want them worrying. Uncle Vernon would be mad he had gotten grass stains on his clothes. Hopefully he wouldn't throw Harry into the Cupboard too hard.
'Do you have someplace to go?' He paused, but nodded yes. Technically he did. He just had to wait. Hopefully sunset wasn't too far off, but he was having a bit of difficulty focusing on it because he was focusing on trying to calm down. They were asking questions, and he would be in so much trouble if they asked too many.
'Would you like us to make sure you get home safe?' He paused, then shook his head. He wished he knew… oh! He pointed at the pen and paper a couple times, and hoped his expression conveyed what he wanted to ask. Thankfully she seemed to understand, and slid the pad of paper over to him gently, placing the pen atop it.
Harry grabbed the pen and - in a very messy scrawl - wrote 'Can't go home until dark'. The woman read it, and pursed her lips. She exchanged a look with the man again, and said something. He said something back, and she gently took the pen back and scribbled something on the next note.
'What is your name? Mine is Hannah Granger.' She offered the pen back, and after a pause of hesitation, he took the pen and scribbled 'Harry' in his scrawl underneath her name. He didn't put his last name, since Uncle Vernon probably wouldn't like him sharing his full name. He chewed at his lip again as he thought about what awaited him at home.
Hannah nodded, and then she scribbled something on the next note. 'This is my husband, Samuel, and our daughter, Hermione,' she gestured to the man and girl in turn. She then said something to the man - Samuel - before saying something to Hermione, who nodded.
Hannah then stood up and went to talk to Samuel, while Hermione moved to sit a bit closer to Harry - almost too close, and he squirmed a bit from it. Most kids his age were Dudley's friends, so he never really liked being near any.
But Hermione just scribbled on the note - her handwriting wasn't as neat as Hannah's, but also not as messy as Harry's. 'Have you read this?' She then held up the book she was holding when he looked up at her, confused. The title read 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking Glass'. Harry frowned, and shook his head. She set it down, and scribbled on the note again, 'Would you like to?'
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Before Harry knew it, Hannah gently tapped his shoulder as he read. He'd read through fifty pages of the book when she'd done so, and he saw why. It was dark, the sun had finally set. She showed him a note - the one she'd used earlier, asking about getting him home safe.
He bit his lip again, but nodded shakily. Though he quickly grabbed the notepad and pen, and scribbled furiously on it, 'Only up to a block away, please.'
Hannah seemed worried, but nodded. Hermione tapped Harry's shoulder and pointed to her book. Understanding - though a bit sad - he returned the book to her. She showed him a note, 'I'll save your place for you, okay?'
He nodded numbly, though now that he remembered what he'd done - gotten his clothes dirty - he knew Uncle Vernon would probably lock him in the cupboard all week. He doubted he'd ever see them again.
Even so, they accompanied him as he walked home. He was ahead, while Hannah held back with Hermione and Samuel was closer to Harry. He'd taken his own turn with writing a few questions - his handwriting was a bit messy, though legible, but Hermione's was better.
'Do you go to school?' No, Harry had responded. Samuel's expression became perplexed, but he simply scribbled some more.
'Have you had dinner yet?' A shake no, Harry wasn't allowed to eat until after dark, and after the family had already gone to bed. If he was allowed dinner at all. He knew better than to try and share that, though.
Samuel seemed worried, but stopped scribbling and just placed a gentle hand against Harry's upper back. When he saw Number 4 of Privet Drive, he turned to face the Grangers and nodded. Hannah and Samuel exchanged a look, but they nodded and waved goodbye. He gently and hesitantly waved back, and headed towards his Aunt and Uncle's house.
The only car in the driveway now was Uncle Vernon's, so despite the tightening in his stomach, he knew it meant he was allowed back in. He knocked on the door thrice, and after a moment the door opened wide to show the large, imposing figure of Vernon Dursley.
He looked Harry up and down, face screwed up and clearly angry, and it got worse when he saw what Harry knew were the grass stains. He saw Vernon's mouth open and close loudly, and recoiled. He didn't know what was being said, but didn't have to. The words on the wall flashed through his mind as he screwed his eyes shut. Vernon dragged him inside and shut the door, before bodily shoving Harry into the Cupboard under the stairs. His legs banged against the door and his head against the wall, causing both to hurt deeply. Harry saw him point at him, then the words on the inside door, and shout before slamming the door shut. And, Harry knew, probably locking it.
… no dinner tonight, then. His stomach felt funny, and then the cupboard shook as someone kicked it. Oh, it had grumbled. He pressed down on it - hard - to subdue the sound, curled up into a ball, and put the thin, scratchy blanket over him. It made sleep uncomfortable, but at least he would be warmer than just his clothes.
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After the usual night of fitful sleep, when Harry awoke properly he noticed the lights were on, and smelled bacon and eggs. He pushed down on his stomach again, muffling the noise. Hopefully if he managed to keep quiet they'd let him have something, or they'd just do it to stop his stomach. The cupboard shook as footsteps rocked the staircase. Aunt Petunia must have called Dudley down for breakfast. After a few minutes of sitting and pushing down on his stomach whenever it twinged, he felt the vibration of loud footsteps - Uncle Vernon - shake the house as he strode down the hallway.
Was there a visitor? Harry wasn't sure, but pressed all the harder on his stomach. Uncle Vernon would kill him if he made sound. Nobody could know he lived under the stairs. He sat and waited, pressing harder whenever his stomach twinged, using both arms to do his best. It hurt, but it would hurt much, much more if Uncle Vernon's guests heard him.
There was nothing for several minutes, and then the cupboard shook again as presumably Dudley went upstairs. Then more footsteps started up, and at that same moment a particularly strong rumble began in his stomach. He pressed harder than ever, but the footsteps still stopped. Oh no. Did they hear? He held his breath and squeezed the blanket into his stomach to muffle, and for a moment that felt like an eternity, nothing happened. And then the stairs shook as the second set of footsteps went back down.
Of the bit of light he saw, some got obscured. Someone was in front of the cupboard. The door gently pushed in and then went rigid - it meant someone was unlocking it. Another moment that felt like an eternity.
And the door opened, revealing a bearded man who blinked in surprise upon seeing Harry. He pressed himself against the back of the cupboard, heart pounding in his chest. The man spoke, but Harry just shook his head. The man turned and said something over his shoulder. To whom, Harry didn't know, but his expression went tight - presumably at the answer.
The man gently offered a hand, nodding encouragingly to Harry. Trembling, he took it with his right, completely missing how his left had been tightly gripping his leg. The man carefully led Harry out, the blanket sliding off of his lap as he came out.
The man placed a hand on Harry's back and led him down the hall. Past Uncle Vernon in the living room, and Dudley on the stairs. Away… but why? Panic settled in his chest, but the hand kept pushing him forwards, so he complied. They went out the door - past another man, shorter and clean-shaven - to a dark blue car. The man opened the back door, and gestured inside. Understanding, Harry clambered in, sitting on his hands in the seat, though his legs began to kick because of all the anxiety. The man reached in and buckled Harry in, before grabbing a pad of paper and pen from inside the car. He scribbled something on the paper and showed it to Harry.
'You're safe now. We'll be taking you somewhere safe, and you'll be taken good care of.' Harry furrowed his brow and showed an expression of confusion, to which the man simply left the paper and pen in Harry's lap and gave him a nod before closing the door.
… he was leaving? Going away? Somewhere safe? In spite of himself, Harry felt an intense bubble of emotion bubble up in his belly, and his legs started kicking faster and more intensely. He wondered where they'd be going…
=====Harry=====
I used the 'right' pronouns already several times, thank you to my beta for catching that. I have lots of plans going forwards, and have both good and bad times aplenty in store for my kids. Hope you enjoyed!