Summary: 5-year-old Harry Potter overhears his aunt complaining to his uncle about the "freaks" camping nearby. Maybe if they are the same type of "freak" he is they will want him?
Pairings: HP/DM, HP/OMC, Severus/OMC, Remus/OMC/OFC, Remus/Sirius and others as the story progresses
Warnings: Under 18 - Harry is still at school. AU, mentions of child abuse, Slash, Violence, Sexual Situations, powerful Harry, manipulative Dumbledore, there are chapters with vampire blood play, het, threesome, and third person remembering of non-con and murder of children. I will give warnings before those chapters so it can be skipped over. Despite these warnings it really isn't a dark story, if you have questions feel free to contact me.
Characters: Harry, Draco, Dumbledore, Snape, Lupin, Sirius, Lucius Malfoy, and standard Hogwarts crew, plus OMC and OFC
Beta: the amazing Rakina
Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, its characters and settings are the copyrighted works of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., her publishing companies and affiliates. No profit was made from the writing of this story.
A/N This story is complete and Beta-ed by the wonderful Rakina. I'll try and post several chapters a week- but there are 83 of them so it will take a while.
Also- I'm using the word 'Gypsy' in its modern meaning of a group of traveling performers. No one in my story is of Romany decent.
Friday June 13, 1986
A shrill, horse-faced woman burst into the house screeching, "Vernon! Vernon, you will not believe what nasty riffraff has come to town! Vernon, where are you?"
"Calm down, calm down Pet- I'm here now. Tell me what is going on?" A blubbery ball of a man came bounding down the stairs to try and calm the shrieks of his wife, hoping she wouldn't wake their precious son. "Dudders is napping. Calm down and tell me what has happened."
A bony hand flew to Petunia Dursley's mouth. "Oh dear, poor little Dudders, do you think he is alright?" she questioned, her voice dripping with sugary sweetness.
"Oh, I am sure he is just fine. He will let us know if he needs us. Such a fine boy he is." Vernon Dursley puffed with pride. "Now sit, Pet, and tell me what is going on." Guiding her to the sofa they sat and she began her tale of terror.
"Oh, Vernon, it is simply dreadful! The empty field across from the grocery store - you know the one where they hold the fair every year?" Vernon nodded yes and patted her hand reassuringly. "Well as I was leaving with the week's shopping - oh it's still in the car!" Petunia squeaked realizing that the ice cream was still in the boot of the car melting, and it was her little Dudley's favorite.
Patting her hand again in reassurance Vernon took care of the problem. "Boy! Boy, get over here now!"
A small thin boy cautiously came out from his cupboard under the stairs. He ran his hand through his messy black hair to try and smooth it out, and kept his emerald green eyes firmly on the floor. "Yes, sir?" he replied in his soft five-year-old voice.
"There are groceries in the boot of the car. Bring them inside right now and put them away! And if you dare eat anything…" Vernon's hand connected with the side of the boy's head throwing him to the floor, the warning clear.
"Yes, sir," said the hurt little boy, climbing to his feet and quickly heading outside. He had been listening to the conversation from his cupboard and didn't want to miss out on what was going on. Pulling one of the full bags of groceries into his arms he quickly went back into the house.
"… and the field was covered with their disgusting vans and campers! Vernon, what are we going to do?" wailed his Aunt Petunia.
'Who?' wondered the boy as he hurried back outside. There were three more full bags of groceries to get, and the sooner he had them in the house the sooner he could listen to the conversation. He really tried not to be curious – it only got him in trouble – but he just couldn't help himself. He did think proudly that he could now hide it better than before.
Back and forth the young boy went, panting under the strain of the heavy bags filled with food he would get very little of. He would catch snatches of conversation, mostly Aunt Petunia wailing about the image of the neighborhood and protecting "Her precious Dudders from these monsters!"
The boy was now in the kitchen putting the food away with the aid of his step-stool. His ears perked up at his uncle's shout.
"Freaks! That is what they are – nothing but worthless freaks!"
Now sadly this got the little boy's attention. That was what his uncle always called him, a worthless freak. 'Maybe they are relatives of mine, or even if not if I am the same kind of freak maybe I could live with them,' the boy thought, hoping to find out more.
"I can't believe they are allowed to be so close to normal people! I am going to call the police and check to make sure they have proper permits. It's disgusting to think that this is being allowed!"
The couch groaned as Uncle Vernon stood up. The boy continued his work, and listened as his uncle dialed the phone. The boy lost the beginning of the conversation as he put away food into the freezer, but when his head popped out he could hear his uncle yelling into the phone.
"It's gypsies! How can that be okay! They are in the empty field across from the grocery store that is only a mile away from my home and my son! Who knows what kind of freaky things they are up to! I demand an investigation!"
The raven-haired boy lost the conversation again as he put the food away into the fridge. He snickered very quietly to himself imagining his uncle's face turning purple as he shouted into the phone. With a sigh he shut the fridge door and threw away the plastic bags the groceries had come in, and headed back to his cupboard to await his next chore, or if he was lucky some food.
"I have an idea," chuckled Aunt Petunia. "Why don't we sell the boy to them. He is a freak just like them." Disgust laced her voice as she watched her scrawny, dirty nephew climb into his cupboard under the stairs. She wouldn't sell him of course – he did too much around the house, but it was a lovely thought.
The boy settled down on his cot, as his aunt's words twisted in his head. 'Buy me – would they really buy me?' the boy thought. 'That means I am worth something to them.' Smiling, the boy let his thoughts take him. 'If they are freaks like me, and I am worth something to them, maybe, just maybe they will let me live with them and I can get away from my aunt and uncle.' A small smile lit up the boy's face but it quickly went away as he heard his fat cousin thud down the stairs. He was always afraid that the stairs would fall on top of him whenever his uncle or cousin walked on them.
"Mummy, what did you get me?" squealed Dudley running to the kitchen to see what treats he had got from the store today.
Petunia followed him into the kitchen, "Well, Duddums, I got three of your favorite ice creams and two bags of your favorite crisps, and tonight Daddy is taking us out to dinner. And you, my sweets, get to pick the place!"
"Yay!" yelled Dudley grabbing a container of ice cream and a spoon. Petunia smiled down at Dudley as he scooped ice cream into his pudgy mouth.
An hour later Uncle Vernon was pounding on his door and yelling, "Freak, we are going out, you will do the laundry and tidy Dudley's room. And if it isn't all done when we get back you'll be in for it!" Vernon pounded once again on the door to make his point.
"Yes, Uncle Vernon," came the soft voice of the boy. He came out as he heard the door shut, and watched as they drove away. Quickly he ran upstairs and gathered the laundry; the gypsies might not take him and he had to get at least some of this done. Having started the laundry he quickly went back upstairs. Dudley's room was a mess – it would take the whole time. With a shuddering sigh the boy turned away from it and went into the bathroom. Quickly he showered and put on his best clothes. Unfortunately all of his clothes were hand-me-downs from Dudley. Stained and faded, they hung off his thin frame. The boy then brushed his teeth, combed his hair - which stayed a messy black mop – and went downstairs. He put on his shoes and then packed a bag of all his important stuff. It all fit into an old backpack of Dudley's he had found in the trash – it was the wrong color so Dudley had thrown it away. Going to the utility room the boy quickly put the wet clothes in the drier and started another load of washing. He then hitched his pack up on his shoulders and opened the back door, going out that way so the neighbors wouldn't see him.
Luckily it was summer, and the sky was still light out. The streets were quiet as it was dinnertime, and looking in windows the little boy could see families gathered around tables eating and laughing together. Oh, how he wished for a family! His parents were dead. His aunt and uncle said they had been drunk and crashed their car killing themselves and giving the boy the scar on his forehead. The boy bravely pushed these thoughts away and focused on where he was going.
He had walked for a long time; the sky was alight with the sunset when he came to the field. There was a large tent set up in the middle; it was dark blue in color with swirls, stars, and moons in all colors of the rainbow. Behind the tent were vans, campers and a few tents. Scattered about in front of the tent were piles of wood and cloth. He watched as the people put together smaller tents and booths. They laughed together as they worked. It felt so happy here, with the sounds of happy chatter and soft singing. The boy counted twelve people all dressed in summer clothing the likes of which he had never seen. Oh, he could tell they were dresses, shirts, trousers, and such but the colors and the fabrics were unusual. 'These must be very happy people,' the boy thought to himself. 'How could anybody be unhappy with clothes like those?' There were a bunch of other people putting together booths and stalls; they were not part of the gypsies though. The boy even recognized some of them from around Little Whinging. Deciding to stay out of sight until all the local people had left the boy hunkered down into the hedge to wait.