Harry got off the train excited to meet Neville’s parents again. Neville had spoken about them a lot, and Harry would be living with them for the immediate future. It wouldn’t be wrong for Harry to say that he was nervous on how they would really feel about him once they started really getting to know him personally. Harry was walking alongside Neville through the crowded platform nine and three quarters towards where the Longbottoms were waving at them in the distance.
Suddenly out of nowhere, Harry got dizzy and stumbled a bit. Someone rudely shoved into Harry to brush past him and he was sent stumbling to the side.
“Harry! It is nice to see you again,” Harry looked up in a daze and saw Alice and Frank Longbottom standing in front of him, “Need help with the luggage?” Frank asked.
Harry tried to look where the two had been standing before, but he was lost in the crowd. “Where… where’s Neville,” Harry asked sleepily.
“Oh, don’t you worry, Harry! Neville just went ahead for a bit,” Alice Longbottom said brightly. She was acting different than Harry remembered from before.
“Now, lets go to the car before we get stuck in the traffic,” Frank Longbottom said as he took Harry’s trolley from his numb hands and started pushing it forward. Alice grabbed Harry around his shoulders and guided him forward through the brick wall. Back into the King’s Cross muggle portion of the station. They were heading over to a gray minivan. “Wha- Why are we taaaking a caaar?” Harry asked weakly as he was ushered inside and buckled with a seat belt by Alice.
“Oh, don’t you worry about that.” Frank said as he put Harry’s luggage next to him, “We are taking you home. This car’s a smooth ride, great suspension. I’m sure you will sleep soundly on the way there.”
He was right. The car started moving and Harry’s eyes started drooping. Harry rolled his head to the side and noticed the rest of the van was empty. Wheeeeerrre. Waaaaaaas. Nevilllllllll-
Harry fell unconscious before he could finish the thought.
— — —
“What are you doing lazing about, boy!” An unpleasantly familiar voice woke up Harry as he saw a similarly unpleasant ceiling above him. He was in the Cupboard under the stairs again, where he had lived for his whole life at the Dursleys, “It is nearly nine O’clock,” Uncle Vernon’s voice continued from outside, “Let’s see if you still are any good at cooking after going to your freak school.”
Harry opened the door and stepped forward and blinked as he looked down at himself. He was wearing a ratty t-shirt and shorts. The cupboard under the stairs was empty, none of his things were there. Harry felt his pockets and the corners of the cupboard floors looking for anything. But nothing, Harry’s supplies and most importantly, his wand, was gone. He ignored the increasingly irate voice of his uncle from the kitchen.
Eventually Harry gave up and stepped fully into the hallway of number four Privet drive. How had he gotten here? The last thing he remembered was falling asleep after finding the Longbottoms. But reviewing the memories, suddenly something clicked. They were imposters using polyjuice potion! That’s why Neville hadn’t been inside the van, they had cast some sort of spell on him and dumped him here!
Harry walked into the kitchen and saw his nearly red faced uncle sitting at the kitchen table making a poor attempt to read his newspaper in between all his shouting.
Uncle Vernon gave up the show and put his paper down flat on the table.
“What, you think because you went to your freak school that you are suddenly above doing your chores?” Uncle Vernon demanded, “Make my breakfast, boy. Bacon and eggs, and make it snappy.”
“Uncle, where are my things? Why am I here?” Harry asked.
“Why? What? Your freaky friends dropped you off yesterday. I can’t believe you fell asleep at three o'clock in the afternoon! That school is turning you into a lay-about I’m sure. They said you weren’t allowed to bring your wizard things to a mu- normal home, so they would hold it for you. And good thing, we don’t need any of that nonsense in this house!”
“You really don’t have it?” Harry asked, “None of it?”
“No, of course not! I’m glad they took it. Now, are you going to make breakfast or am I going to have to pick up your slack?”
“Pick up my slack,” Harry said before turning around and walking to the front of the house. After a few seconds of silence, Uncle Vernon started yelling after Harry and swearing at him. Something about how Harry was under his roof and so would show him some respect. Some nonsense like that.
Harry walked out the door and glanced side to side. The coast appeared to be clear. He started running down the street. The street was disgustingly the same as Harry remembered from before. All the same manicured lawns and lines of white houses identical to each other. He pushed his pace faster as he ran. He was getting out of here as soon as he could.
Harry reached the end of the street and took a step onto the main road…
And Harry opened his eyes to the ceiling of the Cupboard under the stairs. What? How? Harry slowly analyzed his last memory, but didn’t figure out much. A quick wave of magic enveloped him and then he was back here.
Harry quickly went into the kitchen and checked the clock. It had been three hours since he had first left the house. He must have been knocked unconscious by some sort of spell. But how had he been brought back to the Cupboard?
Harry finally let the reprimands of his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon filter into his consciousness.
“Sleeping all day, those freaks infected you with laziness I’m telling you,” Uncle Vernon stated.
“I’ve been cleaning the house all day, doing your job Harry,” Aunt Petunia screeched, “Your uncle and I are generous enough to provide a roof over your head and food and you can’t even do your chores?”
“How did I get back here, back into the Cupboard?” Harry asked loudly, cutting off his Aunt and Uncle's ranting. Before he would have just taken it, but now he knew he had somewhere else to go. People that he was sure would be looking for him right now.
“What are you on about, boy?” Uncle Vernon said, “You walked in there yourself, I saw you after you ran off without even making any breakfast!”
Hmmmmm.
Uncle Vernon was insulting Harry again, but Harry had bigger things to worry about right now,
“Were my eyes open as I was walking? Was I awake?” He asked.
“I don’t bloody know!” Uncle Vernon said, “How would you be walking around while you were asleep? Now, go clean the house like your Aunt Petunia says. You have a lot of work to do to make up for that lost time.”
“Nope,” Harry said before turning and sprinting out of the door again. He would figure this out. He walked as close to the invisible border at the end of the street as he could. He stuck his arm out and it tingled slightly, but he didn’t feel any sleepier.
“Hey, kid!”
Harry looked up and saw a fit man with straw blonde hair standing on the other side of the barrier. Most importantly he was wearing wizards robes and carrying a wand.
“You’ll never break through that spell," the man said, "Even if you did, there's four of us watching this place at all times. Best to give it up and live there.”
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
“Why?” Harry asked, “I’d rather be unconscious for most of my day than have to deal with my Aunt and Uncle any more. Let alone my cousin. I haven’t even seen him yet, but I’m sure he will be as pleasant as usual.”
The man met Harry’s gaze for a few seconds before nodding.
“Fine, I can see you won’t be convinced. The only way we’ll let you out is if you can prove that this place is truly your home. Here, with your terrible Aunt, Uncle, and Cousin. That is the only way to refresh the blood ward and give yourself powerful protection for the future. If you miss even a single year here, then the ward will weaken further and you will be in danger every summer after. You have no idea how irritating it was to bring you here briefly while you were in your coma last year…”
Harry seriously considered the proposal for about half a second before he remembered what this place was like.
“Nope, I think I’ll just keep trying to escape,” Harry answered before tipping forward into the barrier.
Harry woke up looking at the ceiling of the cupboard under the stairs.
Harry ran out of the door and went the opposite direction until he reached the border and fell unconscious again.
Harry woke up looking at the ceiling of the cupboard under the stairs.
He tried again.
He tried again.
He tried again.
Roughly a week later according to his enraged but slightly disturbed Uncle, Harry had figured out that the wizard was right. Nothing Harry could think of would let him through the barrier. Even hiding in the trunk of a car hadn’t worked as Harry had still somehow woken back up in the cupboard under the stairs. Although that time it seems it took an extra hour for him to return back to the house according to Uncle Vernon.
He even tried running around breaking things and smashing the windows of the neighbors hoping the muggle police would realize something was wrong. But the police never came, and after two hours of the neighbors ignoring Harry as he destroyed their things, he gave up. By the next day everything was fixed and no one seemed to recall that anything out of the ordinary had happened at all.
Harry had briefly seen Dudley a few times, but hadn’t talked to him yet as Harry immediately sprinted out the door as soon as he could no matter what time it was. After raiding the pantry and stuffing himself of course. His massive appetite had died down a little ever since he ate Tom Riddle’s soul fragment. But it was coming back with a vengeance, so Harry was able to scarf down days worth of food in a couple of minutes when he woke up at midnight. Aunt Petunia tried to scream at him when he woke back up, but she still ended up refilling the pantry either way, so it was no small loss. Harry wanted to leave, maybe if they willingly evicted him then the wizards might let him go so he saw no reason to follow his aunt or uncle's wishes anymore.
After the third time of raiding the pantry when everyone else was sleeping, it seems that aunt Petunia had finally had enough. The next time Harry went to open the cupboard door, it wouldn’t budge. He shook it hard and some dust rained from the ceiling. But peering through the crack, Harry saw that it had been locked. Actually, there were five different locks now bolting it shut.
Harry saw down and started kicking the door with his feet. Hopefully he could batter it down if he tried for long enough.
Harry stopped when his knees grew sore from kicking. How was the door so strong? It had cracked a little but it hadn't budged even a little bit open.
Harry peered through the crack in the door again. Aunt Petunia was standing on the other side, watching him.
“Aunt Petunia, let me out please,” Harry said, “I think it would be better for all of us if I escape and go somewhere else far away from here.”
“What is wrong with you?” Aunt Petunia screeched in reply, “All you have to do is be a normal boy here for a summer. Is that so hard for you? You’ve even been frightening Dudley! Now you are gorging on the pantry at night like some kind of rat. No, I won’t tolerate it! You will stay in there until you learn your lesson. There will be no freaks in this household!”
So like that, Harry was imprisoned in the confined space of the closet. Something was wrong with the door, no matter how much Harry kicked it it just wouldn’t budge. It was almost like… no… it was a spell! One of those wizards must have snuck in and reinforced it so he wouldn’t escape.
At least Aunt Petunia was sliding him food and water from a little slot that she had had Uncle Vernon drill into place. The cold leftovers from their meals. Harry managed to kick out the piece of wood covering the opening for the slot, but the gap was still too far from the locks for Harry to reach it. The next day it was reinforced again, presumably with spells this time since Harry never ended up breaking it again.
Dudley occasionally came by to taunt Harry about his punishment. Just stood in front of the door and yelled at him. It was quite irritating, but there wasn’t much Harry could do to respond.
After realizing it was futile to break down the door or nearby walls, Harry realized the problem. Harry the human wasn’t strong enough to escape. That was well established by now, especially with the hidden wizards secretly strengthening every little gap Harry managed to find before he could actually escape. What Harry needed to be was… stronger. And his undead form… was stronger.
Despite the seeming hopelessness of Harry’s situation, he was actually not feeling too emotional or threatened this whole time. He had a goal to work towards, and now he knew that there was something better out there waiting for him if he could manage to escape. So despite everything he hadn’t felt the chill spread over him even once in his stay here.
But there should be another way. James Kensit said that Harry should be able to control when he transformed if he manipulated his soul in the right way. And Harry could feel his soul in a way he had never been able to before he returned back from the void as an isolated soul. All Harry had to do was review his memories of his transformation and replicate what had happened to his soul while he transformed.
So Harry sat cross legged in the cupboard under the stairs and meditated. He ate and drank when the Dursleys decided to feed him. Seeing him more passive now, they were now trying to negotiate with Harry for his release. But he had no interest in that. Engaging in long winding conversations filled with long strings of insults were a waste of Harry’s time that could instead be spent meditating on his transformation.
A week later, Harry thought he was on the cusp of it. He could see what had to happen to his soul, but not how he was supposed to do it. Harry shook his head as Dudley started shouting through the door again, seemingly intent on breaking his concentration now that the Dursleys had realized that Harry was concentrating on something.
Harry started attempting to change his soul. It took him a frustratingly long time to figure out what the answer was. It was the rootlike cage of strings binding his soul in place to his body. After some practice, Harry was able to slightly shape the strings so they pulled or squeezed Harry’s soul inside. It was hard at first, and Harry could barely manipulate a single thread wrapped around his soul. But as Harry practice progressed he managed to control more and more until he could accomplish more complex maneuvers.
It had been roughly twenty five days since Harry had arrived, and he was about ready to make his first real attempt at the transformation. It had been difficult figuring out which sequences of tugs and pulls on the strings Harry was manipulating would have what effect on his soul.
But after practicing non stop for all this time he had gained a basic sense of translating his tugs on the soul strings to the effect on his soul wrapped tightly in its cocoon.
Harry began and started the sequence he knew should result in his transformation. Harry felt the tips of his fingers go cold for a moment as he made it through the first set of motions. But the next part required much finer control, and Harry botched it at the last second. The ice that had spread to Harry’s palms dissipated in an instant as his soul bounced back into its normal state.
Harry pictured everything as perfect spheres and squeezing the single sphere to produce an effect, but it was far more complicated than that. There were at least eight or nine factors that had to align perfectly with each other and Harry had to change all at once in order for Harry to correctly make it all the way through a given sequence of soul manipulations. Like all the spheres layered on top of each other and each of Harry's little pushes would change each of them slightly differently compared to the others. But he still managed to improve and get better at manipulating and making his soul shift in the way he wanted.
But at the end of the first month back, in mid June, Harry was almost there. The ice had almost reached his neck by now, but he didn’t want to push it any farther than that. He wanted the rest to be perfect before he finished with the last and most complicated stretch of all of the soul manipulations. As Harry went along in the process it always got progressively harder as more of his body began to change and shift.
Harry practiced another week of bringing the chill up to his neck and purposely failing to dissipate it before he was satisfied. He now could manipulate his soul with amazing precision and speed compared to when he had started. Today was when he was finally getting out of this place. Harry waited for his final meal and weathered the last rounds of insults and barbed comments meant to make him submit and beg the Dursleys for forgiveness for daring to be different.
Well, Harry would show them different. He would show those wizards trapping him in here just how different he really was.
Harry waited until midnight, sitting cross legged. His human legs were atrophied and weak from disuse of under a month of confinement in this small closet. Hopefully his undead form would not share that weakness.
Harry closed his eyes and manipulated his soul like a conductor leading an orchestra. And where he had stopped before he continued onwards. With all of his practice the final segment was easy. Harry finished the last note of his symphony of his soul and there was a moment of silence where Harry wondered if it had worked. His whole body felt like it had been dunked in freezing water. But just as Harry thought he had failed, he felt himself shift and the room was suddenly far too small.
But most importantly… Harry felt strong. Strong enough to take on those wizards and escape from here. Harry surged upwards with his all strength and heard the wood above him splinter as he broke out of his cocoon.
Now, all he had to do was fight his way to freedom.