Chapter Text
Little Harry was 6 when he was abruptly jolted from his sleep in the middle of the night when his uncle Vernon, his face etched in shadow, yanked him out of his tiny cupboard by his frail leg. Harry clung desperately to his worn blanket, refusing to let it go as he was dragged into the dimly lit hall. The only source of light was the feeble glow of streetlights seeping through the curtains, casting shadows that danced across the walls.
In the silence, Uncle Vernon wordlessly hoisted the bewildered child from the floor and, with an urgent yet resentful expression, motioned for him to follow. Clutching his blanket, little Harry obediently trailed his uncle into the chilling darkness of the night, to the car.
Their journey took them far from the Dursley house. Drifting into a fitful sleep, he was awakened by the jerking of the car. Still cocooned in his blanket, Harry stepped out onto the unfamiliar sidewalk, his heart racing in fear. In that moment, Uncle Vernon pressed fifty pounds into the child's trembling hands, his eyes hostile.
"Don’t move from this sidewalk until the car is gone" he said, a hint of unspoken anxiousness in his voice.
Harry nodded, holding onto his blanket and the money as he watched his uncle retreat to the car. The engine roared to life, and in the dim glow of the taillights, Uncle Vernon drove away into the night, leaving Harry standing alone on the deserted street, his mind swirling with questions and fear. It started raining a few seconds later.
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Harry sat huddled under a store sign on the rain-slicked sidewalk, his thin blanket draped around him like a protective cocoon. Towering buildings loomed over him, casting a shroud of darkness. The only sources of light were the flickering streetlamps, their feeble glow painting long, shadows on the wet concrete.
Harry's eyes darted down the desolate street, where silhouettes of people in black clothes stood huddled beneath a single streetlight, engaged in hushed conversations. Anxiety welled up within him, and he couldn't shake the dread of being kidnapped, just like the ones he had seen in those terrifying videos they'd shown at school.
His trembling legs found strength as he stood up, driven by an instinctive urge to flee from the looming strangers. He began to walk in the opposite direction, each step echoing the thud of his anxious heart. He pressed on, putting several city blocks between himself and the figures who had sent chills down his spine.
Finally, he found himself on a dimly lit street corner, facing a decrepit building that exuded an aura of foreboding. Its ancient sign groaned in the wind, and the creaking sound sent shivers down Harry's spine. The building was a chilling sight, and Harry recoiled from the prospect of entering it. However, the relentless pounding of the rain and the pressing darkness outside left him with little choice. Plus this was the only building he found with lights still on.
He approached the rickety door and swallowed his fear. With a hesitant push, Harry entered the dimly lit building. The door closed behind him with a quiet, ominous thud.
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When Harry walked into the building, it wasn’t as scary as the outside. It was actually really hot and loud. The building had a fire in the corner that was keeping the building warm, or that’s what Harry thought. He hid in the corner of the room away from all the adults. He was scared he might be kidnapped by them too, just like the people he saw outside!
Sitting in the corner under his blanket, drying off from the heat, Harry looked around. The building was full of adults dancing by the fire, drinking, and talking. Harry's curiosity was piqued when he witnessed one of the adults by the bar retrieve a stick. Perplexed, he couldn't fathom what the man intended to do with it. Then, a string of strange words, unlike anything Harry had heard before, danced from the man's lips, and astonishingly, the drinks on the bar began to levitate and float gracefully toward the waiting tables."
Harry's eyes widened “Wow” he whispered. He really wanted to see more magic.
Suddenly, the man behind the bar announced, “I ran out of drinks, I'm gonna have to send Jim to go buy some more from my supplier.”
"Jim, make sure you bring more Firewhisky back!" shouted a man from the crowd.
Jim nodded and started walking to the back of the pub.
Harry's curiosity got the best of him. Eager to witness more magic, he rose from his corner and quietly followed Jim, hugging the walls to avoid being noticed.
Harry followed Jim through an archway that opened into a secluded courtyard, surrounded by a brick wall. concealed from view behind the arch, Harry watched in awe as Jim produced the same stick once again. He tapped the bricks a few times, and the ground trembled under Harry's feet, nearly causing him to lose his balance. But when he regained his footing, he saw something astonishing: the bricks began to move aside, one by one. A narrow, shimmering gap appeared in the center of the wall, and Harry's eyes sparkled with wonder, trembling with excitement. He was definitely glad he chose to follow the man.
Harry followed the man through the brick-made doorway. It led to a long, narrow street lined with strange shops advertising brooms and lizard liver, most of them were closed for the night though, with their signs boldly stating, "Sorry, we're closed." Harry couldn't help but wonder how the man planned to buy more drinks with everything closed.
As they ventured deeper into the street, Harry followed a few feet back from the man when the skies opened up again, drenching Harry. He couldn't help but look at the man, who remained strangely dry. Harry thought, "Is that some kind of magic that keeps you dry? 'Cause that would be really helpful right now."
After a bit of walking, the man suddenly turned into a dark side street next to a large building named Gringotts. A wave of unease washed over Harry, making him shiver uncontrollably. He stood frozen at the entrance to the shadowy street, eyes wide, peering into the darkness. Fear was taking over.
But Harry knew he couldn't stand there forever. The man was getting further away, and he had to make a quick decision. He gathered his courage and decided to follow. He didn't want to be left alone in the rain.
Following the man, the street unfolded as a deserted place. The storefronts looked forgotten and abandoned, some covered in creeping ivy. A few advertised strange things like cursed objects and ancient wands. Nobody was outside but that might have been because of the rain. Harry froze his eyes nearly popping out of his head when he saw a sign with the head of a werewolf poking out of it. He could feel goosebumps rise on his arms, it felt as if the head was staring right at him.
Terrified and unsure of what to do, Harry tore his eyes away from the unsettling sign and looked around. It seemed the man had entered one of the shops, disappearing from Harry's sight, leaving him lost, alone, and drenched in the rain.
Harry's lower lip trembled, his eyes welled up, and he couldn't hold back the tears any longer. He sat down under the werewolf head (which prodded out of the window so it covered Harry from the rain) and he cried. In this strange place, he just wanted to go back to his cupboard, warm, comfortable, and dry.
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Carmilla, the owner of the place where Harry stood outside, peered through the window and noticed the kid crying. Her heart went out to him; after all, he was just a little kid, all by himself in Knockturn Alley. It was a dodgy place, notorious for its dark corners and shady people, especially the hags who liked to hang around and cause trouble. Carmilla couldn't help but feel sorry for the kid.
She glanced around her nearly empty tavern. The night was late, and most folks had already headed home. A rush of empathy swept over her, and she made up her mind to bring the child inside. If he was out there, sobbing in the rain in the middle of the night, it likely meant he had nowhere else to go.
Carmilla put down the cup she was cleaning and left her place behind the bar. She headed over to the front door, ready to help the kid.
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Harry huddled beneath his thin blanket, a soft whimper escaping his trembling lips. Cold and utterly alone, he wished he had stayed at that party, surrounded by warmth and the cheerful chatter of all the people. Closing his eyes, he tried to conjure the image of his cupboard, a place where he would be safe, warm, and free from the worries of his current predicament. A fresh bout of tears welled up within him as he thought about having nowhere to go.
At that moment, the door next to him creaked open, and Harry froze in terror. His worst fears of being kidnapped gripped his heart, and he fell silent, his wide eyes locked onto the slowly swinging door. And a lady emerged, her slender figure silhouetted against the night, her striking appearance was impossible to ignore. She was eerily pale, her long, silver hair cascading around her like a ghostly halo, and she wore all-black attire. Harry's body trembled with a mix of fear and fascination; despite his terror, he couldn't help but find the lady really pretty. At that moment, he even thought to himself that being kidnapped by her wouldn't be so bad.
The lady's eyes met Harry's, and his eyes widened with both fear and curiosity as she extended her hand toward him. Shaking like a leaf, he cautiously reached out and took her hand, his small fingers icy from the cold. With gentle reassurance, she helped him to his feet,
“Come on follow me I'll get you warmed up,” she said and he reluctantly followed her through the door she had emerged from, dragging his blanket behind him.