Chapter Text
The truck finally rolled to a stop and Harry Potter listened as the boys opened the squeaky metal doors and stepped out. He could hear their footsteps crunching on the dirt… or gravel, he couldn’t be sure. His view was hindered by the burlap feed sack over his head.
They were laughing and cursing and calling him all kinds of names the local pastor would find offensive. Harry could care less about what they were saying, he just wanted to punch them. Unfortunately, they had also tied his hands behind his back. He’d been struggling to undo them the whole ride.
They’d thrown him in the back of the truck, and he’d tried to keep track of the swerves and turns they took, but at some point, he’d given up. Harry knew these roads like the back of his hand, but there were so many offshoots and farming roads, it was hard to know for sure. And it didn’t help that he couldn’t see.
The tailgate was let down, and he was grabbed by grimy hands and pulled forward. Harry struggled and fought, but there were three of them and they were strong, even though they were teenagers. Stupid football players.
Harry’s elbow connected with someone’s jaw and he heard them grunt, but then he was punched in the stomach and thrown to the rocky ground. He tried to stand up, but a boot kicked him in the side, and he doubled over in pain.
Suddenly, a shot rang out very close by, and Harry was left alone as the boys scattered and got back in the truck. He could smell the exhaust as the truck peeled out of wherever they’d left him. Harry hoped whoever was shooting would go ahead and put him out of his misery. He was tired.
Harry sat up as he heard the crunching of footsteps drawing nearer. His side hurt. Maybe he could get some pain reliever from whoever was approaching him.
A hand was suddenly tugging on the sack and Harry inhaled through his teeth as it was pulled off his head. At first, he couldn’t see because the sunlight was too bright, even though it was cloudy, but then the person came into view.
Harry looked up at a man with chin length black hair and eyes as black as charcoal. He had on a faded grey T-shirt and dark jeans, and he was staring at Harry like it was his idea to intrude.
“Explain,” was all the man said, and Harry noted that it may have been the deepest voice he’d ever heard. Harry could also tell by his accent that he wasn’t originally from the area. It sounded possibly British. Or maybe Australian.
“There’s no explaining them, they just suck,” Harry told him, as he struggled to stand up.
A firm hand was placed under Harry’s arm, and he was lifted as if he didn’t weigh a thing.
Harry gave the man a sheepish smile and said, “Thanks.” Then, he held up his arms that were still bound behind his back. “You wouldn’t happen to have any scissors, would you?”
The man stared at him for a moment, and Harry noticed the shotgun in his hand. On second thought, Harry would not like to be shot. It would probably hurt a lot, and he wasn’t very fond of pain.
Harry watched as the man put the gun under his arm and pulled out a small, folded knife from his pocket. Flipping it open with one hand, he stepped behind Harry and cut the rope off. Harry sighed and pulled his hands forward, stretching out his fingers and rotating his wrists. So much better.
“Appreciate that,” Harry told him with a nervous laugh. Now the man had two weapons.
Black eyes scanned him up and down, and Harry didn’t know if he should run or offer him a reward for freeing him.
“Sorry,” Harry said, because he didn’t know what else to say. It hadn’t been his idea to trespass on a strange man’s property.
Which was a tad eerie, now that Harry could see it. It almost looked abandoned. The grass was in desperate need of cutting, there were thick vines climbing up an old, splintered fence, pale green moss hanging from large, gnarled-limbed trees, and a rusty mailbox held up by cement blocks. Harry couldn’t see a house or trailer, but he figured the dirt path they were standing on led up to one. Unless the man lived in a cave.
Closing the knife and putting it back in his pocket, the man sighed and said, “Do you even know what street you’re on?”
Harry shrugged and shook his head. He had absolutely no clue. It couldn’t be too far from the school, though. About fifteen or twenty minutes, probably.
“Devil’s Creek. Do you live close?” the man asked, sounding exasperated.
Devil's Creek? Holy shit, those assholes really did suck. That was the road everyone knew not to go down. At least, not on purpose.
Harry’s trailer park was in the opposite direction from the school, so it would probably take him a good three or four hours to walk. Which wasn’t that bad. The sun would most likely still be up by the time he made it there.
“It’s not that far,” Harry told him, because he was eager to get out of there.
The man raised an eyebrow and looked at Harry like he was full of shit.
“Really, I can walk,” Harry tried to convince him.
Rolling his eyes, the man said, “Come on,” and motioned for Harry to follow.
Harry looked up and down the gravel road to see if there were any more houses around, but all he saw were tree canopies and overgrown grass. Great.
Running up the path to catch up with the stranger, Harry’s eyes widened as the house came into view. It was an old two-story Victorian-looking place with wooden slats that used to be white and a large covered front porch with steps and a railing. The paint was chipped and peeling, there were vines climbing up the sides, and half of the shutters were crooked. The whole structure looked tired and worn out, but Harry could imagine how gorgeous it had been when it was first built.
He followed the man to the side of the house where there was an old beat-up truck parked behind a large bush. Harry noticed a few spiderwebs attached to it and a pile of crunchy leaves in the bed. Did the thing even run? He was skeptical.
The man stopped abruptly and Harry almost ran into him. Spinning around, he looked at Harry, then glanced down.
“You need to clean that up?”
Harry wasn’t sure what he was talking about, until he looked down and saw a large scrape up the side of his forearm that was caked with dried blood and dirt. Oh.
Harry shook his head. He’d had much worse.
“Nah, it’s fine,” he told the man, and the man stared at Harry some more, then turned around to walk to the driver’s side. Harry was so confused. The man was helping him, but it felt like it was against his own will.
Harry watched as the man threw the shotgun and burlap sack in the back of the bed, then tugged the heavy rusted door open. Harry reached out and lifted the sap-speckled silver door handle, but the door wouldn’t budge. After a few more attempts it finally flew open, sending Harry stumbling backwards.
Regaining his balance, Harry looked up and saw the man was watching him. Harry scratched his head and gave him a lopsided grin, then climbed inside and sat down on the faded seat, closing the door beside him.
It took the man three attempts before the truck roared to life, and Harry let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He was glad the truck proved his suspicions wrong. The quicker he could get out of this situation, the better.
They slowly backed down the path, dust kicking up on either side, and Harry wiped his forehead. It was humid and stale, and Harry doubted there was air conditioning. He noticed the brown vinyl of the dashboard was cracked and weathered and the radio was older than any Harry had ever seen. It had two metal knobs and between them was a panel with numbers on it.
The truck came to a stop at the old vine-covered fence, and Harry looked over at the man who was staring back at him.
“I don’t know how to get to your house,” the deep voice said, and Harry felt his cheeks flush. He’d gotten distracted.
“Sorry about that, do you know how to get to the high school?” Harry asked him.
The man nodded, so Harry told him he could direct him from there.
As they drove down the dusty street, Harry watched out the window and saw that there were other houses, they were just spread out and hidden by overgrowth and trees. He couldn’t tell if people actually lived in them, though. A chill ran up his spine. Harry couldn’t wait to get back to the main road.
Finally, after driving longer than Harry would’ve liked, they turned off Devil’s Creek Road and Harry was already feeling lighter.
The trees passed by in a blur and all of a sudden there was a blast of hot air filling the cab and blowing Harry’s hair every which way. The man had rolled down his window. Thank God!
Harry grabbed the window roller and did the same. That was so much better. It was September but summer didn’t give a shit. It liked to torture them well into October, and sometimes even November.
Harry sat back and sighed, as street signs and houses rolled past them. Only one more year and he could escape this miserable backwoods town. Not that he had a clue where he wanted to go, he just knew he didn’t want to continue living there.
His Aunt and Uncle would be happy to be rid of him, he was certain. Even though there was more room in the trailer now that Dudley had gone off to college on a football scholarship, it still felt suffocating living with them. Luckily, they ignored him for the most part, and Harry tried his best to stay out of their way.
He sometimes wondered what his life would be like if his parents hadn’t died in the car wreck when he was a baby. But then he had to stop himself, because it never did him any good. This was his reality now, and soon enough, he’d be free to do whatever he pleased with it.
The high school appeared up ahead, and Harry scooted forward a bit to see better. Not that it helped much. Harry wondered just how long it had been since the truck had been driven.
“Turn there,” Harry said pointing, and the man did.
Harry stole a glimpse while the man was busy paying attention to the road. His skin was paler than normal, and there was a white scar down the side of his neck that disappeared into the collar of his T-shirt. Interesting. Any other time, Harry would’ve asked about it out of curiosity, but not today. He just wanted to get home, forget about everything that had happened, and work on his assignment.
A few more turns and they were at the entrance to the trailer park.
“You can let me off here,” Harry said, and the truck came to a stop.
Harry looked over at him and said, “Thanks for… well, everything. I really appreciate it.”
The man gave him a small nod, and for a moment Harry’s eyes got stuck on his. Shaking himself out of it, Harry turned, opened the door, and stepped out of the cab. After closing the heavy door behind him, Harry started walking down the gravel road towards his trailer.
Hearing the breaks click, Harry glanced back and found that the man was still watching him. Harry gave him a tightlipped smile, then turned and kept walking.
What a strange day it had been.
Just then, Harry remembered that his schoolmates had abducted him before he’d had time to grab his backpack out of his locker. Harry groaned. Fuck his life.