Harry Potter : In the shadow of divinity3.57%

Chapter - 3 : The Bond of Blood and Secrets part - 2

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(P).(A).(T).(R).(E).(O).(N)

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The Dursley family hadn't ever considered themselves to be very religious folk, they only ever attended mass twice a year, once for Easter and once more for Yule, and that was mostly to maintain the façade of being a respectable sort of people. It wasn't for lack of trying, of course, in the early years of their marriage Petunia had strong-armed Vernon into donning his best suit to attend mass every Sunday, as that had been what her parents had done every week leading up to their deaths. But then Dudley had been born and made it quite clear that he didn't appreciate being dragged to the church every Sunday in the most vocal way possible. And so they fell out of the habit until the only time they stepped into church was when it became imperative to maintain appearances.

The Dursley family's lack of true faith, however, had never stopped them from attempting to use the religion as another tool to quell their nephew's more freakish tendencies. For as long as Harry Potter could remember, they'd told him that freaks like him burned in hell and that, if he wished to avoid eternal damnation, he might try and be more like them (i.e. normal).

It never really worked, young Harry wasn't a particularly god fearing child, but, what was more, he didn't know the cause behind the occurrences that had led his relatives to label him a freak, let alone how to control them. Weird things just happened around him.

And yet, despite his overall lack of belief in things such as heaven, hell, and an all powerful man in the sky, Harry did believe in angels, more specifically guardian angels. And he knew with all the certainty an eight year old could possess, that he had one looking out for him.

He'd been around as far back as Harry's memory recalled, always there, looking out for him, comforting him whenever Dudley was being particularly cruel or Vernon had tossed him out on his ear for one imagined slight or the other. He always wore a different face, spoke with a different voice, but Harry never failed to recognize him, something about him was unmistakable. There was an aura of otherworldliness about him, one might even call it magical.

Harry never called him out on it though, he feared that the moment he revealed that he knew that the strangers always willing to provide kind words and quiet comfort were all the same person, they'd disappear and never return. So he kept quiet and continued to play along with his angel's game, and for years it worked; they met in some form at least once every week, some visits were planned and some occurred merely by chance (or at least by chance on Harry's part). With every encounter between him and his guardian angel, he found it easier and easier to ignore the vitriolic hatred his relatives sent his way in an almost endless barrage, until he found himself entirely unaffected by their mistreatment.

But then he stopped coming.

Harry and his angel had parted ways one evening with no promises of seeing each other again but with both knowing that they would anyway, but then a week passed and Harry's angel didn't make an appearance, then another, and another until two months had come and gone and Harry hadn't seen anything of his angel. The boy couldn't help but worry, the longest he'd ever gone without seeing his angel was two weeks, had he done something to drive him away? Had he done something wrong?

Without the quiet support of his guardian angel, it became increasingly more difficult not to wilt in the face of his family's scorn. And they seemed to realize that something had changed with him as the frequency and the ferocity of every altercation between Harry and the Dursleys increased nearly tenfold.

"What are you stupid, boy?" Petunia snapped one evening, swooping into the kitchen just as Harry upended a package of minced beef into a sizzling frying pan. "That fire is entirely too high. Are you trying to burn the beef?"

"No, Aunt Petunia," Harry said, dutifully turning the gas stove down.

"I won't have you ruin dinner for Dudley, he's had a hard day at school today."

Harry surreptitiously rolled his eyes as he worked on browning the meat. He knew it would be pointless to remind Petunia that he had also attended school that day, and, considering he'd spent much of it avoiding Dudley and his gang in one way or the other, it was likely his had been far more stressful than the baby Dursley's.

"Not to mention your uncle's had a long day at work and he'll be expecting a warm meal when he returns home."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry said monotonously. He barely even flinched when a bony hand whacked him upside his head.

"Don't take that tone with me," Petunia chastised, "or you'll find yourself going to bed without dinner."

Seeing as his usual dinner was a cheese sandwich and a glass of tap water, he didn't feel as if he was really missing out. Of course, if his guardian angel were around the lackluster dinners wouldn't be a problem as he always seemed to have something for him to snack on.

Harry suppressed a melancholy sigh at the reminder of his missing angel. Maybe if he ever came back he'd finally confront him about the fact that he knew who really was, seeing as keeping that a secret obviously hadn't kept him from leaving.

"Get the noodles! They'll be overcooked if you keep them on for much longer."

Harry scrambled to do as his aunt said, knowing that if even one thing wound up burnt or overcooked the consequences would be incongruously severe.