Chapter Text
“Boy!” Harry flinched and closed his eyes. Dust and bits of plaster rained from the cupboard ceiling with each stomping footstep of Vernon Dursley. Harry sat up carefully, the cupboard felt a little smaller after a few weeks in Dudley’s second bedroom, he didn’t want to hurt himself.
Harry fiddled with the hem of his right glove but quickly dropped his hands to his lap. Uncle Vernon didn’t like Harry’s hands.
The door to Harry’s cupboard was flung outward and a gruff voice barked at him to get out. Harry crawled out quickly and bit back a hiss when he smacked his knee on his trunk on the way out. Hedwig had been staying with Ron since Hogwarts ended, Harry didn’t think it was safe for his beautiful owl to be near him at the moment.
“You better be wearing your gloves,” Uncle Vernon snarled. Harry muttered a yes sir, which the man ignored. “Your poor aunt and I won’t have it here! It’s bad enough we have … your kind, but we will not have a villain as well!”
Harry jerked his head down to hide his burning eyes. Villain. That was all he had heard since he had come home from Hogwarts and Harry wasn’t sure if that was better or worse what they had been calling him before, quirkless freak.
Harry just couldn’t win.
“Go, move your things back to Dudley’s second bedroom,” Vernon demanded. “Not your freaky school things, no, that will stay here where I can keep it locked away.”
“Yes, Uncle Vernon,” Harry muttered. The only reason he was moving back to the room where Dudley’s toys went to die was that as Harry had recently learned they would soon be having company.
While Harry had been away at school a man had reached out to Aunt Petunia claiming to be her brother. Harry wasn’t privy to all the details but from what he managed to piece together by listening as covertly as possible, Harry’s grandfather had once been stationed in Japan during his time in His Majesty's Armed Forces. That resulted in a brother for Harry’s mother Lily and Aunt Petunia whom no one had ever known about.
Harry quickly turned back around and grabbed his threadbare blanket and thin pillow. He didn’t bother trying to get anything from his trunk, Harry hadn’t wanted to risk holding any of his precious possessions since his quirk had come in. Harry would never forgive himself if he accidentally destroyed his father’s prized invisibility cloak or his wand.
Moving his possession only took a moment and the second he was finished Uncle Vernon banished him to his Aunt’s side for chores. It was still early and Harry could hear Dudley stuffing his face in the kitchen while Saturday morning cartoons played loudly. Aunt Petunia wrinkled her nose at Harry when she saw him coming, Harry hunched his shoulders self-consciously and tried to stay out of arms reach, she loved cuffing him for his posture.
“The front garden needs tended,” Petunia said sternly. She was dressed in her best pre-guest outfit. “Be done before 11, we don’t want Mrs. Anderson down in number 7 being nosy. After the garden tidy up the guest room and Dudley’s room.”
Harry bit back his irritation at being forced to work all morning when he knew Dudley wouldn’t do anything but sit in front of the telly.
“Boy,” Petunia said, whispering angrily.
Harry winced and struggled not to cover his ears. Aunt Petunia’s quirk was simply named “Shouted Whisper”. Shouted Whisper allowed Petunia to project a whisper at much louder volumes to a single target. Mostly she used it to yell at Harry without the neighbor hearing it. Thankfully she stopped after the first word. “My brother will be here this afternoon. You will sit quietly in Dudley’s second bedroom and not make a single peep until dinner. Do you understand?”
Harry flinched again when her quirk activated on the last question.
“Yes, Aunt Petunia,” Harry said earnestly.
“If he hadn’t already known about you, I would have shipped you off with Ms. Figg for the weekend,” Petunia continued hatefully. Harry ignored the thought that he might not have gotten to meet his uncle, the only other family he had. “My brother is a pro-hero in Japan.”
Aunt Petunia’s face did a complicated thing, and Harry knew it was her disgust of anything foreign to Britain and her entitled sense of self and pride in having a pro-hero relative clashing.
“So, not a toe out of line, boy,” she hissed hatefully. “I’m sure a hero would have no problem dealing with a villain like you.”
Harry froze and he only faintly recognized Aunt Petunia’s smug face at the horror on her nephew’s face. Harry’s head buzzed loudly and he didn’t hear Aunt Petunia’s command for him to get to work on the front garden but the harsh slap across the face got him moving.
A villain like him, Harry kept repeating the phrase in his head as he began tidying the front lawn and garden. Was he a villain? Harry trembled as he tried to ignore the memory of Quirrell grabbing for him and Harry grabbing back. Harry shook his head to try and clear his mind, his hands itched inside his gloves.
The thick black gloves chafed uncomfortably and made his hands sweat something awful but even if Harry had wanted to remove the gloves, it was beyond impossible. Child-proof quirk restraints often required a key or pin code, and Harry’s gloves needed a small key that Aunt Petunia kept on a chain around her neck.
The gloves hadn’t come off since Harry returned from Hogwarts a few days ago. They were meant to be worn, washed, and used like they were Harry’s own hands. Except, they were a little small, designed for children aged 6-8 who hadn’t finished quirk counseling yet.
Only the soft and skin-tight gloves Madam Pomfrey had given him after he had woken up in the Hospital Wing, which he still wore under the quirk restraint gloves gave him any relief. His hands still hurt terribly at all times and Harry wished he could just scream.
Scream like Professor Quirrell did when Harry touched him. Screaming as he was turned to ash. Ash. That was what the doctor at the Quirk center called his Quirk, Ash. Anything Harry touched with all five fingers would turn to ash.
“Boy!”
Harry flinched and ducked his head. Aunt Petunia had used her quirk to shout at him again.
“Get back to work!”
Harry chanced a quick look and saw his Aunt watching him angrily from the nearest window and he quickly returned to checking the flower bed for weeds. He tried to ignore the ringing in his ears and the aching in his hands. He just needed to get his chores done and then he could hide in Dudley’s second bedroom for a while. He just had to keep going.
“Shou! Shou! Are you ready?” Hizashi shouted happily. The windows of the hotel room rattled ominously with their shout.
“Quirk, Zashi!” Shouta said sternly from the hotel bathroom.
Hizashi grinned and shook their head. “Sorry! I’m just so excited!”
Hizashi’s husband, Aizawa Shouta exited the bathroom in just enough time to cancel Hizashi’s use of their quirk on the word ‘excited’. His hair was pulled back loosely and would likely not stay that way long. He was dressed well, but that did little to hide the exhaustion on his face.
“If you deafen the hotel we will have to miss this meeting to sign paperwork and talk to a lawyer,” Shouta said dryly. “Be rational for once.”
Hizashi grinned widely and swooped in for a quick kiss. “No way! Rational is more your jam! I’m an action kind of person.”
“Trust me, I am aware,” Shouta said. Out of the bathroom, the hero made his way to the bed and reached for his capture scarf.
“Oh no, Aizawa Shouta, you are not bringing your capture scarf to meet my sister and her family!” Hizashi said, pointing a finger at their husband. “And if I see even a hint of your sleeping bag I’ll scream!
Aizawa ignored his overly loud spouse and wrapped the scarf around his neck over the collar of his dress shirt. “Two weekends of your grading,” Shouta bargained without hesitating and grinned sharply when he saw Hizashi pause.
“Two weekends and I get to choose our couples costume for the Hand’s Up Radio cosplay party,” the blond pro hero shot back playfully.
“Deal,” Shouta agreed easily with the same sharp smile.
Hizashi laughed loudly, a quick flash of red eyes and some floating hair kept the laugh from getting too loud and the pair set out. They had found a decent bus route that would get them near enough to little Whinging and then back to the hotel with few problems. Thankfully both pro heroes were fluent in English and were easily able to navigate public transportation.
The bus ride wasn’t long and with a cheerful goodbye, Hizashi led Shouta off the bus and took a moment to examine the neighborhood where Petunia Dursley was raising her family.
“Wow it’s …”
“I hate it.”
“It’s creepy,” Hizashi admitted reluctantly. “It feels like the start of a horror-style k-drama! How does anyone find anything here?”
Shouta rolled his eyes and pointed at the crisp and clear numbers visible on the houses. “They come with numbers.”
It didn’t take long to find Number 4, Hizashi noticed the immaculate garden and wondered if their brother-in-law had a plant-based quirk. Hizashi knew from medical records that his voice quirk was hereditary so Petunia likely had a similar voice-related quirk and her son had a chance of one as well. Harry Potter, the son of Hizashi’s deceased sister Lily, was recorded as quirkless like Lily had been, poor kid.
“I’m nervous,” Hizashi admitted to their husband. “We’ve spoken on the phone but this is different.”
“We can always leave if it’s too much,” Shouta reminded them. “If they turn out to be quirkist assholes or homophobic racists we can just leave. Blood family is nice when they love you but you know you don’t need them.”
Hizashi laughed softly and brushed some of his long blonde hair out of his eyes. “Always dropping wisdom,” They teased. “It’s almost like I married an old man or something!”
Shouta’s deadpan expression had Hizashi giggling as they knocked at the door and politely if not impatiently waited for someone to answer the door.