Preamble: I have no idea if this is going to go anywhere. I may do another chapter on it, but then again, I may not. It's just a story that's been kicking around my head for the past few days that I needed to get out on paper. The title comes from a quote by Herbert Ward: "Child abuse casts a shadow the length of a lifetime."

A Shadow the Length of a Lifetime

Prelude: The Neighbourhood Freak

Clearly I remember picking on the boy
Seemed a harmless little fuck
But we unleashed a lion...
...how could I forget?
-Pearl Jam, "Jeremy"

A freak of nature lived in Number 4 Privet Drive, and everyone knew. Oh, no one was crass enough to mention it in public, certainly not gauche enough to actually dare try to bring it up in conversation with Petunia Dursley, but everyone knew. There were too many weird occurrences around that property, too many owls fluttering down to roost on the mailbox outside. Too many folk dressed stranger than any hobo wandering down the sidewalk at odd hours of the day and night.

The bolder among Privet Drive's residents often found excuses to call on the Dursley residence, in the hopes of getting a glimpse of the freak, but he was rarely to be seen. The slightest chance sighting of the small, black-haired boy was worthy of a week or so's gossip in the circle's meetings, and whoever had seen him most recently could reign smug and supreme over the less fortunate ones.

Mildred Frump was the envy of the Privet Drive knitting circle, since she lived at Number 6 and had arguably the best view onto the property next door. Even Nancy Wicker, who lived at Number 2, didn't have such an unimpeded view into the back yard of Number 4, for her husband had a most aggravating fondness for hedges, and the one that grew along the property line was especially high and thick. Mildred more often than not hosted get-togethers, which were a thinly veiled excuse for speculating as to the boy's abnormality

And so it was that one lovely Saturday morning in mid-July, Mildred set down a tray of iced tea and finger sandwiches on her patio table and took the seat between Nancy and Anne Gaulter of Number 1. Gertrude Gumpter of Number 5 and Julie Barnes of Number 3 made up the other two members who had deigned to show up today.

Gertrude sat munching down the snacks laid out like food was scarce, carelessly brushing crumbs from her front. Her eyes were fixated on Number 4, where the freak was partway up a ladder, painting the garage. "Always approved of manual labor for kids," she said around a mouthful of food. "Sets right the bad seeds straightaway. The earlier you catch 'em, the better."

Julie snorted delicately into her tea and set the glass back on the coaster Mildred had provided. "That must be why your three boys have turned out so splendidly, Gertie dear," she said pleasantly, and Mildred had to stifle a snort of her own. Prior to the Dursleys moving to the neighbourhood, the Gumpters had been the street's scandalous family, with one son in prison and another a shiftless layabout on the dole. The youngest was Gertrude's only saving grace; he was a doctor up in the city, a fact Gertrude never let the others forget.

"Do you suppose they adopted him from a third world country?" Nancy asked, watching in fascination as Vernon Dursley came out of the house and went over to the ladder. She leaned forward as the man started waving an arm about. "After all, we all know that Dudley of theirs isn't cut out work around the house."

"More the mother's fault, if you ask me," Mildred sniffed, and took another bite of her lady finger. "He's more of a layabout than Gertie's own Donald. Wandering about with those thuggish friends of his." She wagged a finger. "Mark my words, he'll be knocking over shops and doing drugs in a few years."

"No doubt," Nancy agreed.

Anne Gaulter, the only one who had actually brought knitting supplies to the knitting circle meeting, sat with her back to Number 4, working on her sweater. "What exactly is wrong with the child?" she asked. "You all go on like he's a carnival sideshow, but no one ever mentions why."

Gertrude, Julie, Mildred and Nancy exchanged looks, but whatever war they'd been silently waging, Mildred handily won. She was, after all, the one with the best view.

"No one's told you?" she asked. At Anne's negative shake of the head, she leaned forward and lowered her voice, though there were no outsiders to hear her. "It's impolite to speak of it in public, but the boy is unnatural."

Anne arched an eyebrow. "Unnatural?"

Nancy nodded emphatically. "Oh yes, dear. Wholly unnatural."

"The cats," Gertrude said in between bites of her food.

"Those owls," Nancy added with a delicate shudder.

"That bizarre way he was left," supplied Julie.

"Pets going missing."

"Johnny coming home with purple hair after a bit of teasing him."

"Those odd sounds from Number 4 last week."

"Don't forget the lights."

"Oh! And the gardens!"

Mildred, Nancy, Julie and Gertrude all shared another, knowing look, then turned back to Anne and chimed, "Those odd people."

If Anne had been sceptical before, she was downright disbelieving now. "Cats? Sounds? People? The way he was left?"

Mildred glanced over at Number 4 again, where the boy had come down from the ladder to stand in front of Mr. Dursley. For his part, Mr. Dursley was gesticulating wildly at the barn, and even from the distance, it was plain to see his face was red with anger. The freak stood with his head down, and for all intents and purposes appeared to be absorbing the tirade. Mildred watched for a moment before turning her attention back to Anne.

"Mr. and Mrs. Dursley seemed like very salt-of-the-earth folks when they first moved in," Mildred said, "nicest people you'd ever meet. Their boy was an absolute delight. Then one night, about, what Gertie, eleven years?"

"Roundabout," Gertrude said, her mouth full.

"Eleven years ago, all sorts of strange things happened. There were shooting stars in the sky, and owls flying about everywhere. Day or night, it didn't matter. We saw all manner of very strange characters too. People who didn't even look like they knew how to properly dress themselves! Women walking about in bathrobes and galoshes, if you can believe that. And not just here. All over London.

That same night, someone left a baby on the doorstep of Number 4. And ever since then, the Dursleys have been more reclusive than ever. It's like they're ashamed of what they took in that night. You see their own boy around all the time, but that one--" She waved vaguely towards Number 4. "--is hardly ever around. And the strangest things have been happening ever since he came here."

"One time," Nancy said in conspiratorial tones, "Frank was out clipping his hedges, and he saw the boy literally disappear right in front of his eyes."

"I still say Frank was on the sauce that day," Gertrude snorted, shoving another lady finger into her mouth. "The man's a lush, Nancy. More than time you admitted that."

"What about Mrs. Figg's cats?" Nancy shot back.

"Who's Mrs. Figg?" Anne asked. Nancy jumped a little, like she'd almost forgotten Anne was there, even though they were supplying this information for her benefit.

"Lovely old lady over on Dunmere Avenue," Nancy replied. "She's a bit barmy, I think, and she has dozens of cats. None of the cats will go anywhere near the neighbourhood children, but that one? They swarm around him and meow as loud as can be. And that," she added, with a rather spiteful look at Gertrude, "was witnessed on two separate occasions by at least three people."

Gertrude returned with a scowl, but didn't say anything.

"I don't know, Mildred," Anne said doubtfully. She bit her lip and finished her row to begin another. "It all seems a bit farfetched to me. Are you sure all these reports are to be trusted?" She glanced over her shoulder with a small frown. "Honestly, it seems to me that that Vernon fellow is a bit heavy-handed with a small child."

"One does have to have a firm hand with the children," Gertrude said. "Spare the rod and spoil the child, after all."

"I think something's happening," Julie said suddenly, and in her haste to put her glass down and stand up to see, she knocked it off the table, shattering it on the deck. Mildred ignored the glass – they could be replaced, after all – and whipped her head around so fast she heard something pop in her neck. Ignoring the faint throb of pain, she stood up to ensure the best vantage of... whatever it was.

Vernon Dursley was backing away from the freak, nearly falling over himself to get away. His frantic scream for his wife Petunia was clearly audible, as was the sheer terror in his voice. Mildred squinted at the freak, trying to discern what had set Dursley off, but for a long moment, she could see nothing out of the ordinary.

Then, she noticed it. The freak had his hands clenched by his sides, and tiny bits of lightning were crackling out from between his fingers. His head was down and Mildred wasn't sure from so far away, but he seemed to be trembling.

"Do you smell ozone?" Nancy asked with a peculiar tone on her voice, a second before there was a tremendous rush of wind and terrifying crack of thunder.

Mildred had time for one bewildered and frightened glance at the others before the world went inexplicably white. She felt the sensation of falling, and then something very heavy smashed very hard into her head and she felt no more.

oOoOoOoOo

...why's he just sitting there staring...
...lost his entire family, poor lil bloke...
...bloody miracle he survived...
...henry, help me get him out of there...
...blimey. doesn't look like anything hit him...
...only clear spot for a block...
...creeping me out, that look in his eyes...
...ain't no one home there...
...you're at the hospital, dear. do you remember anything about...
... in shock, your questions will have to...

oOoOoOoOo

"... Rescue operations continue to work around the clock in the search for survivors of the Surrey disaster that occurred shortly after ten o'clock yesterday morning. Though no official word has yet been released on the cause of the explosion that levelled this quiet neighbourhood in Little Whinging, experts are speculating that a gas line running beneath the street may have ruptured, causing the devastation you can see here behind me.

No official numbers have been released, but it is estimated by the rescue workers on the scene and elsewhere that as many as a dozen people may still be missing, buried alive beneath the rubble... or worse. At this time, only one survivor has thus far been located. His identity has not yet been released."