Chapter Text
The worst part about being at the Dursleys was that some days, it was almost home.
Sometimes in the hot summers stuck at Privet drive, in between the locked doors and outbursts, Harry could almost find himself comfortable.
The days when it was just him and his Aunt in the kitchen, old politicians prattling away on the television. Or the calm silence of night when he would step out for a glass of water, not a single soul awake. Harry wouldn't claim to enjoy living in the Dursley home, not with the bruises still healing on his back, or the locks he had to relatch behind him when he returned to his room. But sometimes, he sunk back into the feeling he had before he knew there was any other feeling of home.
It had been a relatively normal day, 16th of August 1996. Harry woke up to his cracked alarm clock at exactly 6:00am, patting around for his glasses beside him as he heard Petunia make her way to his doorway. Cold metal shifted into place as click by click she slid each lock open, before opening the door. He stood from his bed, walking carefully past her in a tone of silence, to prepare breakfast.
By the time 7am rolled around, Vernon had made his way downstairs, work clothing perfectly pressed against his rounded stomach. Just in time to smell the bacon, as Harry finished preparing breakfast. Distantly he could hear Petunia rousing Dudley awake upstairs. Even he was not allowed to sleep past 8am, Aunt Petunia insisted on a proper family breakfast. This entailed Breakfast ready and served by the time Dudley arrived groggily at the table, and Harry out of the room by the first bite.
Harry had long past needed a breakfast in the mornings, his stomach had gotten used to a longer fast. He quickly moved outside to water the large garden Petunia would brag about at her weekly town meetings. It had become a sort of routine, gone were the days when his aunt would tell him his chores. He knew them by heart unless a new one came up. As Harry unwound the hose, the sun lifting behind him, he pondered if he would be able to join the Weasleys soon at their home, only a few weeks were left of the summer and he hadn’t heard a peep from Ron or Hermione.
That may have been his fault though, he had told them he needed some space this summer, after what happened at the ministry, to Sirius. He had even sent Hedwig to stay with them for the summer, afterall she would eat better there anyways.
Harry finished spraying down the last of the marigolds and moved on with his day, it was entirely likely he would be stuck here until the day he left for the platform.
After watering the many plants along the Dursleys home, Harry would return inside through the backdoor to begin his cleaning for the day. Vernon must've just left through the front, as the family's dishes were scattered on the table, and Petunia was slipping on her shoes to get groceries.
Groceries and shopping were one of the only things Harry was not allowed to do. Not after the teller miscounted his change once, and Harry had returned with less money than he should have. A thief, Vernon had called him, and that was that.
Once Petunia had left, Harry moved along with his daily chores.
Washing the dishes, then scrubbing the sink. Next he would take out the trash and take in the mail. Simple chores that were light work. Next he would move onto the bathrooms, cleaning each to perfection, then Dudley's room.
Dudley's room was always the worst to clean, not because the teenager was necessarily a slob, but because he was usually in there while he cleaned. Long since scared of Harry, Dudley loved to mock him, in that childish way that he always had. His latest favourite was to mention Sirius, just to get a rise out of him. Though today it seemed he had something else on his mind.
“Are you leaving for school soon?” Dudley asked, as Harry moved his clothes into the laundry bin.
Harry had tried not answering before, but it always just made things harder in the long run, with Dudley taking the opportunity to get him in trouble.
“A couple of weeks, not sure when I'll be leaving here though. Why, will you miss me dearly?” Harry asked sarcastically. Dudley rolled his eyes “As if, Just, I dunno…”
And then they went back to silence.
Hours later and Harry had finished his chores, moving onto sitting in his room until it was time to prepare dinner. This would be his first meal of the day, in which he would eat the leftovers after washing the dishes. Distantly Harry could hear the family talking downstairs, Vernon must’ve come home early. An odd thing on a normal day.
That was when Harry heard heavy steps make their way up the stairs. Harry stood, he knew this couldn’t be good. The door busted open and an all too calm Vernon stepped inside. “Sit down Boy.” He ground out. Harry hastily sat down on his bed. He knew this routine, he had done something wrong, he would be punished, and then they would move on.
Vernon tossed an envelope onto his lap. “Do you want to explain why the Hell, this bullshit was delivered to my mailbox?” He crossed his arms. Usually his uncle would have been yelling by now, but not today. Was it not a normal day?
A handprinted letter slipped out of the envelope when opened, addressed to Vernon, it read
“To the Guardians of Harry J. Potter,
This letter is to formally notify you that a minor instance of underage magic has been detected within your place of residence. Such activity is in violation of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery.
The amount of magic used in this instance is not considered severe enough to warrant a formal court hearing or immediate legal punishment. Nevertheless, the Ministry of Magic takes all breaches of wizarding law seriously, regardless of scale or intent.
Responsibility for correcting this behavior rests with you. We trust that you will ensure your child is made fully aware of the laws governing underage magic and the importance of strict compliance with these regulations in the future.
Please be advised that further incidents may result in more serious consequences.
Sincerely,
The Ministry of Magic”
The letter was simple and to the point, but it didn’t make sense, Harry hadn’t used magic.
Harry knew he didn’t see the letter when he had checked the mail that morning, so it must’ve just arrived at their doorway
“I’m sorry Uncle Vernon, I have no idea what they are talking about” He sounded so pathetic even to his own ears. They both knew it didn’t matter what he said. Vernon grabbed Harry’s wrist with a tight grip “And what if a neighbour saw it being delivered? How the hell am I supposed to explain that?”
Harry swallowed, he knew better than to apologize again. “If anyone asks I will explain to them-” “You will do no such thing.” Vernon tightened his fist. “You know I will not see this…disgusting behavior in my home.” Harry bowed his head, mind scanning through the last few days for even an instance of magic, but nothing.
Then he felt the hand.
Tight as the day is long, it wasn’t the first time Harry had been strangled, flashes of that night at the graveyard slithered their way into his head. Somewhere in his mind he was sure Vernon was talking to him, but he was more focused on the crack of the ceiling fan. The way the room smelled, and anything other than the way his uncle's nails felt against his jugular.
Harry was not completely sure when Vernon had left the room, but if his aching ribs were anything to go by, it hadn’t been long. He laid on the cold wood of his bedroom floor, pupils blown, a puddle of clear vomit next to him. When did that happen?
Harry reached for the piece of paper laying on the ground beside him, forgotten. What did it mean? Vaguely he could smell the sickening scent of roasting peas from downstairs, he supposed he would not be making dinner tonight.
Sometimes Harry felt almost at home at the Dursleys, his duties almost made him feel normal. A normal teenager cooking breakfast. A normal teenager helping with the garden.
He couldn’t imagine what it would be like living at the Weasleys, every meal cooked by a mother. Where the kids would wake past noon and lounge as long as the summer was hot.
Blood began crusting across Harry’s face, and he supposed it had been long enough moping on the floor. He had to clean up.