How We Survive

How We Survive:

Little Hangleton

... It was exactly the sort of place he'd concentrated on transporting himself to- a sheltered place where he was unlikely to be found against his will. It was a rather odd occurrence, though he didn't no it, that Riddle manor, a place still associated with the man who had killed his parents all those years ago, would be the first place that he called home.

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Upon awakening the next day, Harry began to explore his new surroundings, and to plan. While in general he had always had to take things one day at a time, for the most part, it was always best to have a general idea of where he would spend time, and what he would do to get food. Exploring the manor, he found that it had clearly not been inhabited for a long time. There wasn't any food or money there that might be of use, though he found some old curtains and blankets, which he dragged up to the small bedroom he'd slept in, after shaking the dust out. The house would be enough to serve as shelter once winter arrived, at least with the old blankets in which he could curl up. Still, he only had enough food to last a week or so, if he rationed it, and the twenty pound note would most likely be needed when winter arrived.

Harry was, this time around, much more cautious. He had no desire to be found and dragged off like the last time, and so he did his best to stay out of sight. He avoided public places, and used his 'disappearing trick' to get in and out of the house. The last thing he wanted was to be spotted nearby. It was for this reason that he turned to theft. Breaking into different houses each time, all of them isolated, a while a way from Little Hangleton, prevented him from being as easy to catch, and from anyone finding his home base. He took food for the most part, things that would be less likely to be noticed, and a few pounds here and there, but never much money, as it was more noticeable. He kept his stash of food in the little bedroom with him, hidden in a small closet. What he had learned about stealth from the other boys had paid off, as well as being able to wish himself back to the manor at any time. Despite that it was hard, as he had to visit multiple places a day, since he kept to getting unnoticeable amounts, he got by well enough. His store of food gradually increased. He slept a good deal as well, which helped him get by on less, as wishing himself from place to place was tiring. It was satisfying to be free, even if it was anything but an easy life.

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It was inevitable, I suppose, that Harry would continue to develop skills of stealth- and that he would only trust people less as time passed. It happened that, one of the times Harry was in a house when it's owners returned, it was a family returning. He had had the bad luck of entering almost right before they arrived home. He heard children laughing, and their parents ushering them inside. It lead to a new skill, frankly, because it caused him to wish for something entirely different when he tried to wish himself away. You see, he had the concentration right, but he didn't truly wish to leave. All he really wished was that they wouldn't be able to see him. And so it was that when the family came inside, they saw no one there.

He watched the family for several months, in-between his 'raids,' sleep, and exploration. It was odd, really. He knew them so well, that sometimes he could forget that they didn't know him at all. He thought of them, in a way, as his family. He had no one else to call family, after all. He learned from following them, on a minor scale, as well. He learned about a large chain grocery store that was nearly putting the local one out of business from their complaints, and with the large amount of space and products inside, and his knack for invisibility, found it easy to rob from. He learned about an orchard as well, one time when the family went berry picking, and ate berries as he pleased as he watched the children, laughing and prancing around as they filled their baskets, the parents patiently picking the fruits, and occasionally glancing over and smiling. Most of all, however, he got a taste of what it might have been like to have a childhood, and a family. It was always bittersweet, standing there, watching, such sweet poison.

It was mid-August when one day he appeared in there house. He greeted them, introduced himself as Harry, and went to sit down at the table with them. They stared at him, shocked for a moment. Only moments later he was being reprimanding for trespassing. After all, he was told, he had not place there. His lips parted slightly in distress and alarm, eyes opened wide, and without a word he fled. He never returned to there home. It wasn't hard to avoid, after all, being a ways out from Little Hangleton. To think he had almost thought of them as family- but he knew better now. The only one he could trust, he had learned, was himself.

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As the temperatures around Little Hangleton dropped, despite the transition of autumn into winter, Harry was still managing reasonably on his own. He slept in the small closet now, curled up in his pile of old blankets and draperies. It was warmer than the rest of the room when he kept it closed, being smaller. People spent less time outside, but there were still enough hours where they were out at work and school on weekdays for Harry to get some food, and there was always the supermarket, which was easy to rob. The main problem, currently was that it was cold, and he had no particular desire to go wandering about in it.

Besides the cold, however, life was rather repetitive. Most of the shops were small, not big enough for him to remain invisible in without getting bumped into. It didn't have, either, the sort of large bookshop the last town had, where he could sit reading for hours. It wasn't all that long before Harry found himself hanging out at the edge of town, observing the people as they hustled and bustled through their daily lives.

Around midwinter, Harry finally ventured as far as to make an appearance in a public place- a small pub in the town below his home. He was more cautious this time than he had been in the past, however, and made sure to change into one of the less ragged sets of clothes he'd brought from the orphanage in hopes of drawing less attention, and to think up a good back up story incase he was questioned.

Walking up to the counter, he ordered a small bowl of soup. Despite that he had enough food to get by, it was always non-cooked, and easily storable. It wouldn't cost all of his money, and with the cold all around, he wanted something warm.

"Would you like anything to drink with that? Hot chocolate, milk...?"

"No thank you, madam. My family doesn't have much money to spare."

"Come to think of it, shouldn't you be in school?"

"Mum and Dad home school me, each evening after work. I usually just study during the day, but it's so cold..."

"I see. Well, you're welcome to hang out here, if you'd like. It's a bit loud in here, but it's warm. What's your name?"

"Harry." He hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Do you think, maybe, I could help out here during the day sometimes, in exchange for warm food? Mum and Dad work long hours to support us, but we're still always a little short on things."

She gave him a calculating glance, then questioned, "What kind of jobs are you proposing to help out with?"

"Cooking and cleaning. I've been doing my best to help out around the house since I was five."

"Eat your soup. You can come back to the kitchens afterwards if you would like, and see what you can cook."

Harry smiled, then sat down, huddled in the corner, and enjoyed the first warm meal he'd had for a long time.

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All the staff at the pub had found Harry rather surprising. No one was really sure what they aught to do about him, after all, this was a child, and children aren't supposed to work, but, from the shabby clothes and genuine interest he showed in the idea of helping out here, it was obvious the kid and his family weren't well off. It was hard to tell his age, as well. His slightly longish hair and mature manner gave an impression of an age several years older than the age indicated by his size, though this was probably partly due to malnutrition.

The determining factor was that none of them had any idea of how to turn him away, so they simply settled on seeing what would happen, and keeping an eye on the child. Harry's first cooking experiment turned out to be a success. The lady from the counter allowed him to cook whatever he wanted from what they had around the kitchen, and, surprisingly, he proved quite adept at adding various ingredients and spices together. It was agreed that he would invent something for the special of each meal, and would get a portion of each himself.

Oddly enough, it was soon rather difficult to imagine what it had been like without the child. Both workers and regulars had grown fond of Harry. He was sent home, of course, before evening, when more of the shadier customers would arrive. Some visitors would even spend hours furthering his learning, or reading to him, usually the ones who were having a hard time, and needed some routine to hold their lives together.

Harry enjoyed the job a good deal. The meals he made were well liked, and brought in a variety of friendly customers, and though he didn't ever truly trust anyone there, he got warm food, entertainment, education, and company. He found it easy enough to lie convincingly, as all he had to do was recount the details of what he'd dreamt of most, back when he was truly the innocent child they saw in his place now, though that part of him had long ago faded. He did his best to act hopeful, and as if he truly had a loving family waiting for him at home. It gave everyone else hope, and he got food, and tips, and sometimes even presents, usually books. It was, truly, the most content he could remember being, and though, in truth, he was as alone as ever, in his own way, he had become a part of Little Hangleton.

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There are times in life when it feels like your world is falling apart. Some things can, in very little time, change everything. It's a phenomenon Harry had experienced many times before, for someone so young. His parents deaths when he was one, the attack on Privet Drive, being dragged to the orphanage, getting tricked, ridiculed, and beaten up, running away... so many different incidents, all which were very similar in that each tore his world apart. It's a feeling that Harry would feel many times in the future, a future in which nothing ever seemed normal and it would often be a struggle just to survive. It was a feeling that he got now, as he realized that he wasn't alone in the house.

Harry had, of course, by now heard the tales of the Riddle House, where he lived, the story of how the Riddles had been found dead, with no detectable cause of death. It was a topic of discussion every now and then in the village, but Harry had continued to live there, all the same. It was, after all, home. Besides, he had always though that, if something odd or dangerous was going on, it was best that he knew, and odd things were more likely to begin here than anywhere else in Little Hangleton. Despite his knowledge of the manor's strange history, when he heard voices down stairs, he was still surprised. Focusing on not being detected, he crept downstairs. He could hear them more clearly now.

"...apply for the defense position my Lord?"

"Of course, Quirrel. We must find the location of the stone, and besides, if the Potter boy still lives, he will be attending Hogwarts this year. He was my downfall once, did you really think I'd allow him to get away with it for good, with just a pathetic scar?"

"Are you sure the boy won't prove trouble my Lord?"

"How dare you! Are you really so bothered by an eleven-year-old child, who probably doesn't even know he's a wizard? Insolent wretch." A faint whimpering was audible.

"Please, my Lord, mercy."

"If you fail me again...."

"I won't master!"

"I'll be forced to supervise you more closely. Come now, Quirrel. We've found enough information here. My old books had all the information we'll need."

"Yes master."

The man got up and walked from the room, for indeed, there was only one person there. Harry followed, undetected. He had several reasons for doing so. To start with, he was curious. He wanted to learn more, especially about magic, or whatever it was he'd been using for the past few years. He didn't trust this person, these people, as far as he could throw them, which was not at all, and didn't think it was a good idea to let him, them, get out of his sight before he'd learned more. But first and foremost, he, or they, whichever it was, had mentioned his name, and obviously was up to something. Harry, for one, wanted to find out what.