After the day in the cupboard when everything changed, Harry practiced his magic whenever he thought he could get away with it. Sometimes it worked quietly. A kitten once floated down from a tree and landed in his hands before anyone noticed. Other times he slipped up. The night his hair grew back after Aunt Petunia hacked it off just to humiliate him got him caught, punished, and reminded that magic was a big 'no-no' in the Dursley house.
Still, when Harry thought about that night, he decided the punishment had been worth it. Going to school without looking extra stupid mattered way more. He also used his magic later to heal the welted skin on his back.
That part stayed secret, all Harry had to do was pretend to be hurting for a few days.
By the time he turned eight, Harry understood the pull in his chest and the tingling in his hands well enough to aim it. He also learned he needed to be specific about what he wanted. If he wasn't, then the magic seemed to go really crazy.
One afternoon, Harry was told to paint the back fence red. It was too hot, Harry hated painting, so he just pictured the job done, pulled at the magic inside him, and waved his hands. Not only did the Dursleys' fence turn red, every fence on the street turned the same shade.
Harry hurried up and hid the paint can and brush and hoped none of the neighbors would mention the sudden color shift. He really thought Aunt Petunia would pull him inside for Uncle Vernon to deal with if she even suspected he had something to do with it. Instead, she sniffed really rudely and said all their neighbors must have copied their fence because they finally understood good taste.
Harry stared at her in stunned silence. Hardly ever did he get so lucky.
A week after his eighth birthday, which he only knew passed from the dates on the daily newspapers, Harry had been hiding behind the shed. The narrow strip of shade protected him from the blazing sun and from Aunt Petunia's watchful glare. His body already ached from a full morning of chores, his skin stung from Vernon's belt the night before. Worst of all, Harry's eyes still pricked when he remembered Aunt Petunia's words at breakfast.
Freak. Worthless. Just like your worthless father and freak mother. They didn't love you. If they did, they wouldn't have run off and left you behind. Who could ever love something like you?
Harry knew his parents had dumped him there. Uncle Vernon said it often enough. They had left him when he was a baby and never called, wrote, or asked about him again. Aunt Petunia said they cooked their brains up with drugs. It made sense in a sick way, nobody who really cared left their child somewhere like Number Four Privet Drive.
He understood by then that the Dursleys would never love him, no matter what he did. Maybe they were right to call him a freak. Maybe wanting to be special instead of normal really did mean he was selfish and ungrateful.
The warmth of his magic comforted him anyway. It wrapped around him like something gentle, something he wasn't supposed to want. It was like a hug, a hug just for Harry. Crying about it only earned Harry more trouble, so he held the tears back like always.
He didn't even notice Dudley and his gang until the shadows fell over him.
"Hey, freak," Dudley shouted.
Harry kept his gaze down. Freaks didn't talk to normal people, so he listened instead. Dudley's heavy panting. Piers' wheezy breathing. Two others shifting impatiently.
Four against one.
Maybe five.
Not that Harry was allowed to hit back. If he could, sometimes Harry thought about using his magic to burn up the Dursley's home with all of them inside of it.
When Harry had good dreams, they always started that way.
"Freak. I'm talking to you," Dudley said. "Wanna play a game with us?"
Harry's head snapped up. A real game? For a moment, his hopes rose before he could crush them.
"A game? With you?" he asked.
"Sure," Piers said with a mean rat-faced grin. All of his grins were rat-faced. "You close your eyes and count to twenty. We hide. Then you come find us. Think you can count that high?"
Harry nodded, "I can count to a hundred!"
"Then start."
Harry closed his eyes and counted with excitement. That could be the day everything changed again - maybe Dudley would like Harry and then his parents would like him. Maybe if Harry worked even harder, they would all like him.
When Harry finished counting and opened his eyes, no one was in sight. He searched the yard, behind trees, along the fence, smiling widely just for being included. When a whisper called to him from the shed, he laughed and ran to it.
They were supposed to be quiet, but Harry wasn't going to tell them that.
Inside the dim shed, Harry's eyes adjusted just enough to see a half circle of boys. They weren't supposed to hide all together, that wasn't very smart.
"Found you!" Harry cried just before someone shoved him, knocking him flat.
As soon as Harry hit the ground, the kicks started, sharp and quick. He curled himself up as small as he could, with both arms shielding his head.
"I can't believe you thought we'd really play with a freak like you," Dudley laughed.
"What an idiot," another boy jeered.
The words hurt worse than the kicks. Harry felt something in his chest folding up on itself. He swallowed a sob, but it escaped as a cracked breath.
"Pathetic," someone said - and they were right.
Harry should have known. 'Freaks' didn't get to play. 'Freaks' were target practice.
If they let Harry play… they might have liked him.
"Aww, is wittle Harry crying? Want your mummy?" Piers taunted when Harry couldn't sniffle quietly enough.
"His mum doesn't care, not even if he dies," Dudley added. "She never calls. Never, ever. She probably forgot he exists."
"Or she's hoping he does die," Piers said with a hard kick to Harry's leg.
The boys kept laughing while Harry folded up tighter. Their voices pounded through with every bruise they left.
Maybe they were right. Maybe he had been born unwanted. Maybe love wasn't meant for him at all.
Maybe Harry was stupid and pathetic for ever thinking otherwise.
All Harry wanted was to disappear. He wanted to be anywhere but there. He wanted a safe place to go, anywhere that wasn't there.
And, like an idiot, Harry forgot that his magic acted craziest when Harry felt craziest.
A sudden tug grabbed Harry's chest like a hook, then warmth spread down his arms before he could stop it.
Half a second later, the shed vanished.
Harry's eyes opened to a bright blue sky.
There was cement beneath Harry, a sky above him. When Harry rolled to his side, he could see a playground beneath him… the playground from the library.
Harry's whole body shook as he sat up. Not from fear, Harry wasn't scared of heights, it was from everything else.
He crawled to the edge and dangled his legs, breathing hard. He tried to steady himself so he wouldn't set off another burst of magic. He didn't want to get in more trouble with the Dursleys. He also didn't want to start crying like a little baby.
Too late.
The first sob tore out of him before he could swallow it. Then another. Then more. Harry's chest heaved as every insult, every bruise, every lonely thought he'd been collecting for years crashed on him all at once. He pressed his palms to his eyes while his shoulders shook so violently that his legs kicked against the side of the building.
Harry cried for the parents who never came back. For the birthdays he never got. For believing, even for a minute, that someone might have wanted him. Harry cried until his throat burned and he was hiccuping for air.
By the time the storm inside him eased, he felt hollow and lighter at the same time.
If he jumped… would it kill him or just hurt his legs real bad?
It would probably just hurt, so Harry closed his eyes and whispered the thought with all the focus he had left:
I need to get down without being seen.
Magic helped him again, like it always tried to do. When he opened his eyes, Harry stood behind a thick oak tree in the thin woods behind the playground.
Harry wiped his face, sniffed hard, and made himself stand up straight. He may have been a freak. He may have been unwanted. But he had magic. Real magic.
His magic.
And he wasn't ever gonna trade that for nothing. Not even if he ever found friends who really wanted to play games with him.