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#I will never be over tiny abused Harry Potter and the myriad of different ways he comes to view home and love through people and experiences
babooshkart · 3 years
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Saturday morning, I read Cupboard Love by the amazing @shealwaysreads and immediately had to make a loaf of bread and also do this painting. Everyone needs to go read it bc food as a metaphor for love is the best trope, it’s a law, I don’t make the rules.
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aurora077 · 4 years
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Harry Potter and the "Hey, I said NOT Slytherin!"
https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13590125/1/Harry-Potter-and-the-Hey-I-said-NOT-Slytherin
Harry Potter was proud to say that he was perfectly normal, thank you very much.
(Except, he really wasn't.)
It all started the day his parents got killed in a car crash.
(Except, they really weren’t.)
He was delivered to the Dursley’s doorstep in a quaint little basket, covered by a blanket. From afar one could mistake it for an innocent delivery of baked goods from the local artisanal bakery. Indeed, it’s what his aunt hoped the day she opened the door to collect the morning’s paper for her husband.
What she got instead, was him.
Suffice to say she was none too pleased to find the cursed spawn of her sister at her doorstep, the only explanation given being a letter from that horrible man (Dumblebore or whatever...) threatening her into keeping him. Oh of course he was ever so polite, the way he’d been when he’d refused to let her join Lily at Hogwarts so many years ago. But a threat was a threat no matter how nicely worded. And so Petunia Dursely was resigned to her fate. 
She was to keep the brat fed and clothed until he was of age. It was ‘important’. 
She scoffed at the word. If she didn’t take him in, potential disaster could befall her family (and the boy but that was an afterthought). Didn’t that constitute a threat? Keep him, or beware! 
After her initial horror had subsided at the request being made of her, she looked, really looked, at the boy. He was around her own son’s age, but much tinier. For a moment her heart melted, looking at the baby. For whatever else he might be, he was but a mere babe. She was slightly annoyed when she noticed he looked more like his father than anything. But then the baby yawned, and opened one brilliant green eye, and all she could think of was Lily.
 Lily, who was no longer here. Lily, who she hadn’t spoken to in years.
 Lily, who she’d never see again except through the eyes of the little boy in her arms.
Petunia would never admit it to Vernon, but that night after he was asleep, she slipped out of their bedroom and cried on the sofa for the sister she had lost several years before her untimely death.
The next morning, she gathered herself and resolved to stamp all traces of that wizardly nonsense from their life (Vernon agreed a little too enthusiastically). If she was to take care of the boy, she’d do it. But nobody could ever accuse Petunia Dursley of being a freak! The boy would grow up normally and go to a normal school. He never needed to know about any ridiculous notions of magic (or evil wizards out to get them. Especially not about evil wizards out to get him them).
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*10 years later*
It was surreal, the past few days that is. Never in his wildest dreams did Harry ever imagine he would be where he currently was. In fact, it rather seemed like it was a product of his imagination instead of reality. 
Reality was: 
1. Waking up in his cupboard
2. Preparing breakfast for the Dursleys whilst bearing their insults
3. Going to school (where he spent several torturous hours)
4. Going straight back to the Dursleys (to spend several more torturous hours on a myriad of chores, which included being Dudley’s punching bag) 
5. Going to bed all the while hoping to wake up in the morning to something better. 
6. Waking up in his cupboard.
This cycle had gone on for years. As soon as Harry's motor skills had developed enough to allow him to grip objects without dropping them he had been designated numerous chores by his relatives. As he grew older, so too did his responsibilities around the house. He was pretty sure this constituted child labour, if not abuse, but hey who would believe him. He was an orphan born to 'good for nothing parents' while they were his perfect suburban relatives. He was simply the burden that Aunt Petunia's sister left  her when she had the audacity to go and die. And the kind Dursley’s had taken him in when they could have easily have left him to the system. ‘Really, he should be grateful!’ he overheard a neighbour say once.
Reality wasn't waking up one day to a letter, just for him. It wasn't being given an entire bedroom, simply because the sender of the letter was aware of his previous sleeping arrangements. And it certainly wasn't Uncle Vernon losing the plot and relocating the entire family to a tiny, desolate island in the middle of nowhere just to avoid letting Harry get ahold of any of the letters meant for him. It was a curious affair indeed because Harry wondered who on Earth could have inspired such fear and rage in his Uncle. And over him at that.
As it turned out, it was the cheerful man (called Hagrid) now leading him through Diagon Alley to purchase his school supplies. Well, him and this great Professor Dumbledore that Hagrid kept going on and on about.
It was no wonder Uncle Vernon didn't want him to read the letter you see. The Dursleys hated anything and anyone that was different and out of the ordinary, and that letter had said that he, Harry Potter, was a wizard! Can you imagine that?! (He certainly couldn't.)
Hagrid had found them in that sad little shack and told him the truth about his parents and who he was. ("Car Crash!" Hagrid had thundered, as he proceeded to upend Harry's entire life. His parents hadn't died in a car crash -- they were murdered! "You're a wizard Harry!" Hagrid continued, barely even giving him time to really process the news.)
Of course it was a difficult thing to believe but hadn't strange incidents always happened around him? Like that time at the zoo with the snake for instance.
A part of him still believed that he was going slightly insane from one too many clouts to the head from Dudley.
But if this was insanity he would take it over reality any day. 
The letter, strangely enough, wasn’t to tell him he was a wizard but rather to inform him that he was expected at Hogwarts, a school for wizards like him, come September. It had a rather extensive list of required items that he had no idea how he’d find let alone afford.
Luckily, Hagrid seemed to know how to solve all of these problems. Which is how he found himself here, outside of Gringotts (a bank run by goblins), with a sack full of money and a list of school supplies to buy. 
All he had ever wanted was to be normal like the other kids in his class and not a freak like Dudley and his gang often said when they were beating him up and taunting him. Now, he couldn’t be happier that he was abnormal if abnormal meant escaping the Dursley’s and finding, for once in his life, a place where there were other people like him. 
A place that he belonged.
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An hour later and he was starting to regret his last thought. Because there he was, just trying to get his school uniform in peace and what does he do? He goes and bumps into a posh blonde preening in front of the mirror and behaving exactly like Dudley Dursley.
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