Freak Show

Harry ran away from his hulking Uncle Vernon and pinch-faced Aunt Petunia when he was nine and joined the circus. He never planned to, but that year when the circus came to town, one of the flyers he'd seen advertised the "Largest Freak Show in Great Britain!" He thought he would fit right in.

Harry never knew of the world of witches and wizards. But he knew that he could move things with his mind, which, by his Aunt and Uncle's standards, made him a freak. And where do all freaks belong but in a travelling circus?

Mr. E.J. Bentley, the owner of Bentley's Travelling Circus, was a kindly old man. Dispel all of the previous thoughts you have about the way circus folk are treated. The members of Bentley's Travelling Circus looked as happy as they could be to young Harry. He'd run away from his aunt and uncle's home on the last night the circus was in Surrey, as they were packing to make their way north to Durham. He stowed away in a compartment above one of the trailers, and wasn't found until they were halfway through Mansfield. By then, it was too late to turn back.

"What is your name, young man?" Mr. Bentley asked.

"Harry, sir. Harry Potter."

"Son, where are your parents? Won't they miss you?"

"I have no parents, sir. They died in a car crash when I was a baby. No one will miss me. But I have something to show you," Harry said, eager to show Mr. Bentley what he could do. He tried to move something with his mind, but hadn't been successful. He looked sadly down at his feet, but Mr. Bentley was having none of it.

He patted young Harry on the head, and said, "You can sleep in the trailer with Sayid, the snake handler. I hope you aren't afraid of snakes."

Harry shook his head. He was actually rather fond of them.

"Good, then tomorrow, we'll decide what to do with you. Are you hungry, young lad? We travelled through suppertime, I'm sure you're famished. Rama! Bring young Harry here something to eat!"

Incidentally, it came to be known that Harry had a rather extraordinary gift. He could talk to snakes, it seemed. Harry begged and begged to be taken in, but Mr. Bentley refused, citing that it would be kidnapping, as Harry obviously belonged to someone, despite the fact that his parents were no longer alive. He phoned Harry's Aunt and Uncle as soon as they stopped in the morning, which turned out to be the strangest call he ever had to make. Convinced Harry's Aunt and Uncle would be grateful that their nephew had been found, he was quite dismayed to find that they were quite angry about it instead.

"Found him, did you? Well, you can keep him. We don't want him."

"Sir, surely you don't mean that..." Mr. Bentley tried to reason.

"I assure you, Mister..."

"Bentley."

"I assure you, Mr. Bentley, that you are more than welcome to keep him, turn him in, or drown him for all we care."

"That's no way to speak of your nephew..."

"You want him? He's yours."

Mr. Bentley peered over his spectacles at a timid looking Harry.

"I told you," was all Harry said.

Mr. Bentley had some papers drawn up that next morning while they were setting up in Durham to have full custody of Harry.

Harry, for the first time in his life, felt like he belonged.

And that was the day that Harry Potter slipped out from under Albus Dumbledore's nose.