Title: My Name Is Harry

Disclaimer: Absolutely nothing in the Harry Potter universe belongs to me. This was written entirely for fun, and no monetary profit is being made.

Summary: There are many different definitions of 'care'. Harry copes with the consequences of different types of care.

Author Note: This is a result of me reading one too many stories that resulted in Harry experiencing 'child punishment'. Considering the extent of trauma he had experienced in his background, such a thing would have serious emotional and psychological consequences. Each person is entitled to his or her opinion—and this happens to be mine.

"My name is Harry . . . and I am not certain why I am here."

"Hi, Harry."

The unison answer made him smile a little.

"I remember how I felt during my first meeting," one girl, red-haired and blue eyed, said in a comforting tone. "Everyone looked so happy. I didn't think that I could relate to anyone--"

"God forbid anyone should be happy?" The remark came from the unofficial 'chairperson', a man by the name of Tiny. He stood almost two solid meters tall and had a very muscular build. Tattoos spiraled down his left arm. Despite his foreboding appearance, he struck Harry as being very gentle and aware of his own strength. He made Harry feel comfortable -- which, in turn, made him uncomfortable.

The red-haired girl made a face at Tiny, obviously used to receiving such a response. "My name is Tabitha and I am a trauma survivor," she stated primly, directing her attention towards Harry. "I've been coming to meetings for a few years. Every now and then, I feel as happy as others look."

"That would be nice," Harry agreed mutely, staring down at his hands. The scar left from Umbridge's Blood Quill had faded, fortunately, but other scars marred the skin.

He listened to others in the room talk about their own experiences. He had gasped when Tabitha described being nearly crushed in a car crash -- "I still dislike that specific junction. I can still hear the glass and metal breaking" -- and shuddered while Tiny spoke of watching his brother succumb to a terminal illness -- "After a while, he stopped asking for the pain medication. It didn't work fast enough. I couldn't see him in his face, not the boy I had grown up with--".

Other stories were similar and many shared elements with his own. Harry felt the tension in his shoulders ease as the discussion drew to a close.

"Would you like to share anything before we close?" Once again, Tiny drew his attention with unusual warmth.

"I . . ." He paused, uncertain what to say. "My name, as I said, is Harry . . . and . . . I saw people die. I was also abused, I suppose." The latter was added as an afterthought.

The smile on Tiny's face slipped momentarily. "Stick around half a moment after we close," the other man said softly before taking one of Harry's hands and bowing his head. Harry obligingly took Tabitha's outstretched hand and bowed his own head. He'd never been taught any prayers, but the one he heard filled him with an inordinate sense of peace. Serenity would be nice.

"You suppose you were abused?" Tiny's question was gently spoken. He pushed a steaming mug of tea into Harry's hands.

He stared into the steam, almost mesmerized. He had spoken more to this group of Muggles than he ever had to any among his own kind. He had felt safe during the meeting, and the feeling continued. Therein lay the most fundamental difference--since entering the magical world, Harry had been anything but safe. He could recognize that fact now, and he could also recognize the manipulations that had governed every aspect of his life, his secondary guardianship included.

"My aunt and uncle...didn't like caring for me," he said finally. "Eventually, I was removed from their custody."

"Harry, why do you flinch when I come close?" The second question, equally soft, made unnamed emotion well up tight and hot in Harry's chest.

"Too soon?" Humor breached through remembered pain. Tiny patted one of Harry's shoulders. "I'm guessing things didn't improve overly much once you were taken away from them."

Startled, Harry met his eyes, his own wide and panicked. "How did--"

"I know?" Humor was still very present. "You could say that I've been there."

"He meant well," Harry stated emphatically, while part of his mind wondered why he was coming to his defense.

"Undoubtedly," Tiny agreed without hesitation. "But that doesn't change the results."

Nervously, Harry swallowed most of his tea. "I should be returning home."

"All right." He helped the other man put the room back in order and dispose of the various beverage cups and snack wrappers. "I hope I see you next week," Tiny said, falsely causal while he locked the building's door.

Harry shivered. The night was chilly and a slight breeze did not help the matter in the slightest. "I . . . hope to be here."

"Good." Tiny seemed to understand that a hug would not be welcomed at that particular time. "Be careful."

"I will." He watched the other man hail a cab. Afterward, he turned and walked down the street towards his own residence. Grimmauld Place was situation close to the clubhouse, as the building was called. He ate a light salad for supper and went to bed.

He did not dream. Despite everything he had felt at the meeting and the secrets he had almost shared, Harry did not dream. Instead, he experienced the first restful sleep he had enjoyed in several years.

-TBC-