Unfortunately for Flynn, Lily had actually signed up for private boxing lessons making her a legitimate customer to Jones’s gym. Flynn hadn’t realised that they even offered private boxing lessons in the first place, but he doubted that Lily wanted to be trained by someone as insane as Jones, so that only left either him or Tom to be Lily’s trainer.
While he was more than eager to let Tom train her, to which Lily agreed to surprisingly quickly, he realised that with Tom’s busy schedule teaching classes and completing his own training, that meant that Lily would be sticking around all day until Tom finished up, and Flynn couldn’t have that.
When Flynn announced that he would be training her, Lily had smiled gleefully, clapping her hands in excitement at the idea of experiencing Flynn in his natural element.
It took less than ten minutes for her to take it back.
“This is too hard,” she said, collapsed on the floor in a pile of sweat with her limbs splayed loosely around her. “Can we take a break?”
Flynn glared down at her, crossing his arms as he tried to stop his eyes from twitching in annoyance.
“We haven’t even finished warming up,” Flynn grunted.
“Hey!” Hugh Moon shouted, rising from his seat at the side of the gym. “Can’t you see she’s tired?! Leave my flower alone, you little bastard!”
“Shut the fuck up!” Flynn shouted back, glaring death towards the man who had dared to bring Lily to the gym in the first place. “You’re not fucking involved in this, you old piece of shit!”
“That’s my fucking daughter you’re abusing!” Hugh shouted. “I think I’m pretty fucking involved!”
Off in the other end of the room a choir of giggles erupted from the group of children that were being taught by Tom. Tom let out a sigh and held his face in his hands, as he no doubt dreaded the idea of having to explain to the parents of his students why they had learned how to cuss in his class, but any attempts at getting Flynn and Hugh to quiet down had already failed miserably.
“Can we take a break?” Lily wheezed out again, still laying on the floor. “We don’t have to do the full hour in one go, do we?”
“Fuck that,” Flynn snarled. “You’re staying here for an hour, then you’re getting out of my fucking life.”
“But I can’t stand,” Lily whined.
Flynn growled and bent down to grab Lily from underneath her armpits and lift her up to her feet.
“WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE TOUCHING?!” Hugh asked calmly, his folding chair clattering to the ground as he stood up.
Flynn was about to shout a response back, but when he looked down and realised that Lily was staring up at him, with her body flush against his in an unintentional hug, he released her immediately, sending her toppling back down to the floor.
“Ow,” Lily grumbled, with her face against the floor.
“Oh, that fucking does it!” Hugh shouted as he stomped over, rolling up his sleeves. “You and me, brat! In the fucking rope square, now!”
While in any other circumstance, Flynn might’ve told the old man to fuck off, the offer of a fight seemed perfect at that very moment, if only to work out the angry heat that was quickly building in his body.
“You wanna fucking fight, old man?!” Flynn roared back, as he stepped into the elevated boxing ring at the center of the gym. “I’ll fucking kill you!”
Lily let out a weak cheer from her spot on the floor, either rooting for both Flynn and her father, or celebrating the fact that she wouldn’t be subjected to any further exercise until this was over. In either case, the contents of her cheer were drowned out by the crowd of children that rushed over to excitedly watch the coming fight, ignoring Tom’s attempts to wrangle them back.
The ensuing fight between the two had been surprisingly even, but that was mostly because Hugh didn’t seem to actually try. Whether it was because he hadn’t had the chance to put on his gloves before entering the ring, or if it was because he had realised that he was fighting a child the same age as his daughter, the worst that Hugh even attempted to do was to try and grab at Flynn’s clothes and limbs, taking special care to move slow enough that he wouldn’t actually hit Flynn, even by accident.
Unfortunately for him, Flynn had no such inhibitions and exploited every opening that the senior Moon gave him, punching mercilessly at his ribs and his head whenever he was given the opportunity, which was surprisingly often. Backed by the cheers of Tom’s students, Flynn practically used the older Moon as a sandbag, until Tom finally regained his sanity enough to find the gong bell and ring it, making Flynn back away on instinct.
Though Flynn glared at Tom for interrupting him, he had worked out enough of his collective frustrations toward the Moons that he lowered his fists, even as he watched Hugh warily for any movement.
“Your guard fucking sucks,” Flynn said.
“Like I’d even bother to defend myself against you,” Hugh spat out, even as a thin layer of red coated his teeth.
“Please don’t,” Tom begged, even as his students chanted for more violence.
Hugh shot a glare towards Flynn, but quickly turned to Tom with an apologetic smile.
“Sorry, Mr. Robinson,” he said. “I’ll make sure to finish my business with the brat in a place without witnesses next time.”
“Not what I meant,” Tom said. “But I guess that’s good enough. Could I suggest you clean up in the kitchens? You’re bleeding a bit and I wouldn’t want any of the children to get scared.”
Every single child in Tom’s class protested, as they chanted for more blood, but Hugh at least had the decency as an adult to look embarrassed by the trouble he was causing Tom and bowed out without another word, to the disappointment of the students.
Lily seemed suspiciously enthusiastic about the brutalisation of her own father, enough for her to request another round of it so she could absorb Flynn’s techniques through observation. When Flynn denied her, stating that they would get back to her lesson, she asked if she could simply watch Flynn training so she could exercise through observation.
He had to admit that it was oddly satisfying to force Lily to run laps until she collapsed to the floor in a sweaty blob that only vaguely looked like a functional human being.
It took about three hours for Lily to complete her hour long boxing lesson, guzzling down the water bottle that Flynn offered to her at the end of it.
“Geez, Flynn,” Lily said, through shaky gasps and drinks of water. “Couldn’t you have gone easy on me? I’m just a beginner, you know.”
“Tom’s class was working harder than you were,” Flynn said with a frown. “You’re weaker than a bunch of fucking ten year olds.”
“They were very tough ten year olds,” Lily complained. “Most of them were taller than me.”
She had a point, but it wasn’t a good enough excuse.
“You’re fucking abysmal,” Flynn said. “Have you never exercised in your goddamn life?”
“Not really,” Lily admitted.
Flynn scoffed.
“How about you? How long have you been doing this?” Lily asked.
“A while,” Flynn grunted. “Since I was around six.”
“Is that why you’re so grumpy all the time? Because you’ve been torturing yourself for seven years?” Lily asked.
“It isn’t torture,” Flynn snapped. “It’s work.”
“Dad sometimes says that’s the same thing,” Lily said.
“Torture’s pointless pain,” Flynn argued. “Work means you’re going through it for a reason.”
“Oh yeah? And what reason would you have for almost peeing yourself from exhaustion?”
Flynn stared at her.
“I went to the washroom,” Lily said, rolling her eyes. “It’s not like I peed my pants.”
“Yeah, I know,” Flynn said. “Your bathroom break took half an hour. I assumed you were taking a dump.”
“Girls don’t poop,” Lily replied, though she looked away as a hint of embarrassment glowed red on her cheeks. “Anyways. You know I’m only doing this because I like you. Why do you do it?”
There was an echoing thud as Hugh slammed his head into the nearest wall, but by this point it had become a common enough sound that Flynn couldn’t even pretend to be distracted by it.
“To get stronger,” Flynn said quickly. A small part of him wondered if Lily was bringing up the faint possibility of her liking him so he would answer her questions more easily, but he tried not to think about it as he latched onto the safer topic of his training. “I wanted to be better at fighting, and Jones is the strongest motherfucker I know.”
“Who’s Jones?” Lily asked.
“The owner of this gym,” Flynn answered.
“Is he anything else?” she asked.
“A war vet. A smoker. An old bastard,” he answered.
Lily hummed quietly.
“Why do you want to be stronger?” Lily asked, after a short silence. “You’re pretty strong already.”
“It’s not enough,” Flynn said.
“Are you trying to beat someone up?” Lily asked. “Other than my dad?”
“No,” Flynn answered easily. “I’m not an idiot. I don’t want to fight anyone if I don’t have to.”
“Then why train for it?” Lily asked.
“Because sometimes I have to,” Flynn said with a shrug. “And if I don’t win, I die.”
Lily hummed.
“This isn’t a good place to live is it?” Lily asked. “I only saw a bit of the outside since Dad aparated us closeby, but it looked pretty bad.”
Flynn shrugged. “This place is probably the only place worth going to in this part of the city,” he said, gesturing around the gym. “And from how much of a shithole it is, that’s saying something.”
“I think it’s rather nice,” Lily said. “Though I suppose that might just be because you’re here.”
Hugh let out a howl of pain, across the room as Tom glanced at Lily with something akin to respect and admiration in his eyes. With how empty the gym was now, it wasn’t too surprising that they’d managed to hear her, but thankfully, Flynn wasn’t blessed with their superior hearing as her words passed by him unnoticed.
“Well it’s not,” he grumbled into his chest, until he heard a quiet giggle.
He snapped his head up angrily to glare at Lily, who was just barely managing to hold back her laughter with her hand on her lips.
“What so fucking funny?” Flynn asked.
“Oh, I think you know,” Lily said, her voice wavering as she giggled through each word.
“Are you fucking mocking me?” Flynn asked, with his fists clenched tight at his sides.
“No, I’m being very genuine, Flynn,” Lily said, her eyes shining with mirth as she spoke. “I’m just a little surprised by how badly you’re taking it. It’s very cute.”
Flynn snarled, but not trusting himself enough to give her a proper comeback, he stomped away angrily towards the showers, hoping that the cold water would cool him down.
“Your daughter’s the most frightening woman I’ve ever seen in my life,” Flynn heard Tom say to Hugh, apparently not noticing how the other man had gone completely catatonic beside him.
- - - - -
Flynn didn’t enjoy teaching.
If he was being honest, he couldn’t even pinpoint why or how he had become a boxing instructor in the first place, but he knew that the chain of events that led to it started some time last year when, during the summer, Tom had roped him into sparring with the biggest problem child in his class.
Tom had just wanted someone to humble Dudley and deflate his unearned ego at least just a little bit so he would stop antagonising the rest of the class. Since he couldn’t do it himself, both because Dudley probably wouldn’t accept the beating as a humbling experience if there was a clear advantage in Tom’s favour, and because Tom didn’t want to beat up a child and potentially get Jones’s gym into any trouble with the police, Flynn had been the obvious choice to fight with Dudley and as a homeless freeloader, Flynn didn’t feel like he had any right to refuse.
Strangely enough, the experience wasn’t a horrible one. It had taken a while for Flynn to figure out why, only realising a week later that it might have been because it was the first time he had boxed with anyone other than Tom and Jones, and it was nice to not be beaten to a bloody pulp within a couple of seconds for once.
But while the spar, if it could even be called one, lasted for a full three minutes, it wasn’t because Flynn was enjoying himself enough to stretch it out for the full distance. There simply hadn’t been any way to cut it short without knocking Dudley out, which unfortunately wasn’t an option. Even if Flynn had wanted to brutalise the pudgy boy, if only to spite Tom for how annoying he was, begging Flynn to go easy on him, as if he thought Flynn was stupid enough to go all out on a paying customer, he didn’t want to prove Tom right in any way.
Flynn tapped Dudley on the forehead, shoulders, and gloves, hard enough for it to make a loud sound of clapping leather each time, but not hard enough for it to cause much damage, even if it certainly sounded like it should.
While Flynn wasn’t enough of an outboxer to dance around Dudley and dodge every hit completely, it wasn’t like Dudley had been even close to a decent boxer at the time, only having just started lessons while Flynn had been away for his first year of Hogwarts. Other than the few punches that flew close to his head, Flynn didn’t even bother to dodge most of them, simply stepping into the blows as they bounced off him harmlessly.
He had meant for it to be a humiliating experience, for Dudley to see that he was so weak that he didn’t even feel the need to dodge his punches, but unfortunately for Flynn, he hadn’t realised how stupid Dudley was.
Dudley simply hadn’t realised that Flynn was taking it easy on him, and though Flynn had thought Dudley had been joking when he declared him to be his eternal rival, it seemed like the boy had meant it in all seriousness.
Flynn still couldn’t remember if he’d done anything the previous summer that would’ve qualified him as being a boxing instructor in any way, but somehow, in the span of the year that he’d been away at Hogwarts, Dudley had gotten into his head the idea that Flynn had become his mentor, rival, and eternal bro in the summer of ‘92, and ever since Flynn had gotten back, the boy had been hounding him for more sparring sessions and lessons. For the first week, Flynn had avoided Dudley like a homeless vagrant avoids an upper-middle class fatass, but one day, in the middle of a particularly frustrating five hour long one hour training session with Lily, he had taken the boy up on his offer of being a fleshy punching bag.
It was only at that point when Flynn realised how badly he had been taking the pudgy boy for granted.
Unlike a certain non-specifically blonde waste of air and space, Flynn was shocked enough by Dudley’s eagerness to actually listen and throw a goddamn punch without whining about it, that he clapped the boy on the shoulder and told him how proud he was of him.
It was at that point when Tom started to refer to Lily as “Ma’am.”
Unrelated annoyingly lazy blondes aside, Flynn had surprisingly found himself looking forward to the days that Dudley visited the gym, though he suspected that he didn’t enjoy the boy’s company so much as he did the addictive experience of having someone around who actually listened to him.
Dudley was no genius, nor was he a paragon of effort often dragging his feet whenever Flynn pushed him past his limits, but compared to a certain blonde and her loud-mouthed father, he was a saint. He occasionally said some stupid things, and often got lazy near the end of each session, flailing his fists wildly enough that he often missed Flynn’s mitts entirely, but at least he didn’t just sit on the floor and whine.
When Dudley mentioned to Flynn that he was going to try out for the boxing team at his fancy ass private school, and take the championship for the Jones Gym, Flynn’s first reaction had been to be surprised that the boy was the same age as him, deceived by all the baby fat that lingered in his cheeks. In fact, he had been taken off guard enough by the realisation that when Dudley asked him to be his second during the tryouts, Flynn accepted without thinking about it, to the immense amusement of Tom, who had been watching the entire exchange and had been too much of a bastard to stop him.
While Flynn had hoped to get out of the task by letting him know that he wouldn’t even be in the country during the school year, so he wouldn’t be able to attend any sort of try outs, it turned out that the boxing tryouts took place during the summer break, for some godforsaken reason.
And so, it was on a Friday afternoon that he found himself sitting in the back of a car, driving out of Fredericton. The air-conditioning was on, and the windows were open, but neither of those things did much to mitigate the heat in the car, which was a result of both the summer sun that turned the leather seats into a veritable oven, and the fact that even though the car was an oversized four-door sedan the size of a small van, the three current occupants were all large enough that the space was filled with too much body, with not enough room for air.
Flynn sat in the back of the car with a frown on his face and his lips flattened into a thin line that promised nothing but silence, but the two Durleys sitting in the front seemed eager to supply their own grins and an endless supply of words for the brief ride from Fredericton to Little Whinging. Though the towns technically didn’t border each other, with the small town of Southdale separating the two, Jones’s gym was near enough to the edge of Fredericton that it wasn’t long before the familiar scents of garbage and cigarette smoke was replaced with the smell of freshly cut lawns of Little Whinging.
“Ah, there’s no place like home,” Vernon said, letting out a content sigh as they passed by the sign welcoming them to the sleepy town of Little Whinging. “What do you think of it, Flynn, my boy?”
Flynn grunted, completely unprepared to be called on, since Vernon had been ranting angrily about the Chinese and how they were flooding the drill market with cheap crap a second ago, before abruptly shifting topics and moods.
“It looks rich,” Flynn grunted, saying the first thing that came to mind that didn’t involve him snapping at Vernon for calling him “his boy”. As annoying as the man was, he wouldn’t pointlessly cost Jones’s gym a customer, after all.
Apparently, Flynn had given the right answer, if the proud smile that appeared on Vernon’s face was any indication.
“Oh, we do well enough to get by,” Vernon said, with a false humility that was shallow enough that it barely qualified as an attempt to hide his self-satisfaction. “I’d describe it more as quiet than rich, though. It’s nice, now that I’ve settled down and and gotten myself a family, but I will admit that I miss the fast paced life that came with living in a rougher town like Fredericton in my youth.”
“Woah!” Dudley said, with his mouth gaping open as he stared at his father with open awe. “Dad, you lived in Fredericton too?”
“Not exactly,” Vernon said, as he tousled Dudley’s hair, to the boy’s quick embarrassment. “It was similar enough, but dare I say it was even rougher than Fredericton, with gangs, and hooligans lurking in every corner. Had to fight for my life everyday just to stay alive. People knew me, or rather my right hook, as the Dursley Cannon. All the other boys in New Aglewood quickly learned to fear it, while the ladies learned to love a different cannon of mine, if you know what I mean.”
“Really?” Dudley asked, not noticing the implied meaning behind the words nor the nauseated grimace on Flynn’s face as he struggled to suppress his imagination. “You got into fights? Were you a boxer too, dad?”
“I’m afraid, not,” Vernon said, with a chuckle. “I’m not proud to say it, but my instincts were just too wild to accommodate for any rules. Every time I got into a fight, I’d just start seeing red and before I knew it, POW! Whichever sorry sap that called himself my opponent at the time would just end up on the floor, crying and begging for mercy. Don’t know if there’s any coach in the world that could’ve reigned in the beast that lived within me, at least enough that I wouldn’t give the audience a little more blood than they bargained for.”
“Flynn could probably do it,” Dudley said, clearly latching onto the mention of a coach, and ignoring everything else that Vernon had said. “Or Tom. He’s great too.”
“I’m sure he could have,” Vernon said, turning back to Flynn to give him a wink. Flynn returned the sentiment by just barely holding himself back from grimacing. “Flynn and Robinson are real men’s men, Dudley. You’d do good to listen to them, especially since I’m paying good money for your private lessons. Though if I’m being honest, I made most of that money from betting on Robinson anyways.”
“You bet on Tom?” Flynn couldn’t help but ask.
“I’d be a fool not to,” Vernon said, with a laugh. “But don’t tell the missus that when you meet her, eh boys? And speaking of things that the missus doesn’t need to know, I got a little side-tracked, but I wanted to ask if you could keep a little quiet on where exactly the Jones Gym is. She’d have a heart attack if she knew where I was taking our little Dudders - oh sorry - our big man, Dudley, every other day. As far as she knows, the Gym is in Southdale. Good town, but too soft. Not nearly rough enough to cut your teeth on. Not to mention that it doesn’t have a gym class taught by rising superstar, Tom Robinson.”
Vernon let out another bellow of a laugh that Dudley immediately echoed, despite looking like he didn’t quite understand the joke, or if there even was one. Immediately, Flynn couldn’t help but think of Draco and his goons, if Draco had ballooned up to ten times his original size.
“I won’t mention it,” Flynn grunted, having planned to speak as little as he could to Dudley’s mother in the first place.
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“Good man, good man,” Vernon said with a laugh, as he turned the car into the driveway of a large house.
Immediately, Flynn tensed up, grabbing his wand in his pocket as he glared at the back of Vernon’s head, ready to draw it and blast the damn thing off the fat man’s shoulders if it came to it.
“This isn’t a school,” Flynn commented.
“Relax, my boy,” Vernon said, with a chuckle. “Dudley’s mother wouldn’t miss her baby’s first glorious step towards becoming a champion for anything in the world, but like I said, we couldn’t have her seeing where the Jones gym was. I’d rather shave myself bald than have her step foot in a town like Fredericton, no offense to the locals.”
“None taken,” Flynn grunted, feeling his grip on his wand slacken slightly, though he refused to let it go completely. “It’s a fucking shithole.”
Vernon twitched and glanced at Dudley, whose mouth moved to repeat the last of Flynn’s words silently with an almost reverent look in his eye.
“So that’s where you’re getting it from,” Vernon grumbled, before shaking his head and shutting off the engine of the car. “Just not in front of your mother, alright? Wouldn’t want to hurt the sensitive ears of the womenfolk, now do we? They don’t quite understand that real men need to colour their words on occasion to get their point across.”
For the first time in his life, Flynn wondered if he swore too much.
Dudley nodded quickly, zipping his fingers across his lips in the shape of a smile.
Vernon tousled the boy’s hair again, and seemed just about ready to get out of the car before his hand froze on the door handle, as if he’d been suddenly been frozen to the spot.
“Oh. There’s a little something I forgot to mention,” he said, with a strained smile that was directed towards Dudley just as much as it was to Flynn. “We might be getting another tagalong in the car with us.”
Flynn didn’t react immediately, but a second later he winced, not at any sort of realisation of what Vernon was talking about but at the loud shriek that Dudley made.
“No!” Dudley wailed more than shouted. “He can’t come, he can’t! It’s my champion moment!”
“Now now, Dudders,” Vernon said, patting the boy gingerly, being careful not to be hit by the fists that flailed angrily in the air. “You don’t want to make a scene in front of your coach, would you?”
The words had an immediate effect as Dudley stopped screaming instantly. His eyes went wide with horror as he glanced back at Flynn, before quickly wiping an arm across his face and he flattened his lips into an attempt at a stoic line.
“I don’t want the freak to come,” Dudley grumbled, sniffling as quietly as he could. “He ruins everything.”
“I know,” Vernon said. “But we can’t keep him in the house. What if I promise to make sure he doesn’t get up to any trouble? I won’t be able to keep an eye on him, since I’m sure they’ll be glued to your matches, but I can keep a hand on his shoulder the entire time.”
Dudley thought about it for a moment before glancing back at Flynn. Though Flynn only glared back at him, Dudley seemed to find some sort of encouragement in it and nodded.
“Okay,” he said. “I’m not happy about it, but I won’t complain, since that’s not what real men do.”
“Attaboy!” Vernon said, clapping Dudley on the back, before looking back and winking at Flynn.
Flynn scowled back at him and opened the car door, practically spilling out of it in a desperate attempt to escape the madness of the two Dursleys.
Unfortunately, as much as he hoped that they would get stuck in the car door, with Vernon at least being big enough that it wasn’t an unrealistic hope, the two Dursleys managed to climb out of the car with little trouble, as Vernon made his way to the door and Dudley followed close behind, humming an off key tune that he had hummed enough times that Flynn recognised it as being one that Dudley claimed came from an American movie called “Rocky”.
Keeping his hand in his pocket, gripping his wand, Flynn kept an eye out for any signs of danger, barely paying any attention as Vernon introduced him to his wife and Dudley’s mother, Petunia.
Thankfully, Vernon seemed to be telling the truth about them only dropping by to pick up Petunia and whoever the “freak” was, as Dudley rushed up to his room to grab his equipment, appearing back at the front door in an instant and rushing back to the car to load up the trunk.
While Dudley certainly didn’t need any help loading his equipment into the car, with it fitting into a single duffel bag, but Flynn followed close behind him anyways, eager to escape both the stifling middle class aura that festered in the house, along with the thick scent of air freshener.
Dudley chattered in his ear about the idea of debuting his new special technique, tentatively titled the “Dudley Bazooka”, but before Flynn could tell him off for being stupid, with the boy’s spontaneous desire for a special technique obviously being spurred on by the newfound admiration of his father’s “Dursley Cannon”, he spotted something out of the corner of his eye that made his heart drop and his expression twist into a deep scowl.
When a familiar black-haired boy shuffled out of the door to 4 Privet Drive, with his attention being focused Vernon’s angry muttering in his face, more from the stench of his breath than the content of his words if the nauseated grimace on his face was any indication, Flynn had no such distractions that kept him from recognising the scrawny boy that occasionally popped up in his life to annoy him. Turning to glare at Dudley, he scanned the boy for any familial similarities between the two, but other than the fucking idiocy that plagued them both, he couldn’t spot anything.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Flynn spat out. “You’re related to Harry fucking Potter?”
Though Dudley shrunk back immediately at Flynn’s quiet outburst, his eyes widened in delight when he seemed to realise that his anger wasn’t entirely directed towards him.
“Wait, you know the freak?” Dudley asked. “And you hate him too?”
“He’s a pain in my fucking ass,” Flynn said, sending a scowl towards Harry that went unnoticed, as he whispered something to Vernon that the much larger man recoiled at.
“He’s a pain in mine too,” Dudley said eagerly. “He’s my cousin, but he’s also a freak. He keeps ruining my life, just by existing, I hate him.”
Flynn grunted in neither affirmation or denial, knowing just how much Dudley liked to exaggerate his hardships, and kept his eyes trained on Harry as he continued to talk with Vernon in hushed tones, making the larger man turn purple with rage as he spoke. For a moment, Flynn couldn’t help but think that he might be witness to a murder, until Vernon angrily nodded at something Harry said, causing the boy’s lips to twitch upwards so slightly that it most people wouldn’t call it a smile.
In either case, whether it counted as a smile or not, it died the moment that Harry turned around to see Flynn glaring directly at him.
“Flynn, my boy,” Vernon said. “You don’t need to pay him any mind, but-“
“You?!” Harry said, glaring at Flynn and immediately forgetting any hint of the agreement that he’d had with Vernon, if the fat hand that immediately pressed against his shoulder was any indication.
“Sorry about that, my boy,” Vernon said, with a strained smile as he shook Harry slightly. “He’s a bit disturbed, as you can see. My nephew. On my wife’s side.”
“What are you doing here?!” Harry asked angrily, despite Vernon’s shakes. “Merlin-”
“I TOLD YOU NOT TO UTTER A SINGLE WORD OF YOUR FILTH, DID I NOT?!” Vernon immediately bellowed. “FORGET A PERMISSION SLIP TO VISIT YOUR STINKING VILLAGE, YOU’LL BE VISITING AN EARLY GRAVE IF YOU DON’T SHUT YOUR MOUTH THIS INSTANT!”
Immediately, the world around them seemed to go silent at the outburst, not that Vernon seemed to notice, with how heavily he was panting.
“Vernon,” Petunia hissed. “The neighbours.”
The words seemed to have enough power to snap the large man out of his rage, even if it did nothing to erase the angry purple that painted his face.
“My apologies,” he growls out, as he reached for Harry’s shoulder, though the boy darted away, smart enough to realise it would be very bad for him if he managed to get ahold of him. “The boy’s deranged. Doesn’t know what’s real or what’s not. I’ve tried to beat these silly little delusions from him, but-“
“Don’t bother,” Harry interrupted. “He already knows.”
Flynn wasn’t stupid enough to not realise that Vernon had an intense enough hatred for magic that such an outburst was warranted, but the stunned look on his face as he turned towards Flynn, replaced quickly by a look of absolute horror and rage would’ve clued in anyone but the dumbest creature, that Flynn was no longer welcome as a guest of the Dursley family.
“You mean Flynn already knows you’re a freak?” Dudley mocked. “Of course he does. Just look at you.”
Ignoring the dumbest creature in question, Flynn glanced at Vernon, taking his wand slowly out of his pocket, now that he knew the large man would understand the threat it could represent, even if he didn’t point it towards him. Whether it was because his bloodshot eyes had misted over with rage enough that he didn’t notice, or he simply didn’t care, Vernon didn’t react to Flynn’s wand whatsoever.
“Get out.”
The words were spoken so quietly that for a moment, Flynn thought that someone else had spoken them, not thinking the loud man was even capable of whispering at so low a volume, but even if he hadn’t spoken, there was no misinterpreting the promise of death raging behind his eyes.
Flynn met the glare with his own, though he didn’t bother to stare at Vernon for long, doubting that there was anything he could do to calm the man down. After shooting his glare towards Harry, who only vaguely seemed to realise that he’d done something wrong, he looked at Dudley who was only just starting to realise that his father’s sudden mood shift wasn’t just because Harry had come out of the house.
“Dudley,” Flynn said. “Do you still want me at your match?”
“Huh?” Dudley asked, his eyes darting between his father and his coach wildly, as he struggled to understand what was going on. “Why wouldn’t I want you at my match? You’re my coach.”
“I’m also magical, which your dad seems to hate,” Flynn said, ignoring the furious huff of air exhaled out of Vernon’s nose. From how purple he was in the face, Flynn could almost imagine barely visible a cloud of steam coming out of it. “But he’s not the one who asked me to come.”
Sparing a glance at Dudley, Flynn wasn’t surprised to see the look of betrayal on the boy’s face, but he was surprised by the slight pit of disappointment that grew in the pit of his own stomach, before he quashed the feeling down with a scowl.
“I…” Dudley stammered, glancing between Flynn and his father, unable to form a single word until his gaze finally settled on Harry. Tears started to flow freely from his eyes as he started to huff angrily, looking frighteningly similar to his father as he clenched his fists by his sides, everything but the object of his hatred forgotten.
“I HATE YOU!” he screamed. “YOU TAKE EVERYTHING AWAY FROM ME!”
Flynn grimaced, as Dudley ran towards Harry, who instantly reacted by running back into the house, and shutting the door behind him. Dudley screamed as he beat his fists against the door, ignoring the stressed shouts from his mother not to break the glass.
Sending a scowl towards Vernon, Flynn stowed his wand away before turning around and walking away.
The drive from Jones’s gym to 4 Privet Drive hadn’t been far, and the route had been simple enough that Flynn was confident that he wouldn’t get lost on the walk back, but he scowled at the summer sun for daring to be so hot on that day. It was about a twenty minute drive, and if he had to guess, it would take three hours to get back to the gym if he walked, or a fraction of that if he jogged, but he couldn’t find himself in the mood to jog regardless.
So it was with a deep scowl on his face, and a foul mood in his heart that Flynn started to walk back home, only to regret his laziness not a few minutes later when he heard the sound of footsteps and the wheels of a suitcase squeaking behind him.
In the upper-middle class neighbourhood of Little Whinging, he doubted that whoever was following him meant him any harm, or at the very least he was confident that they wouldn’t be able to inflict it even if they tried. Even so, Flynn could acknowledge that normally, he would’ve at least acknowledged the sound, even if it was only by giving the source a quick glance, but he already had a suspicion as to who it might be.
So he kept his eyes forward, not wanting to risk confirming his suspicions.
It was only when the footsteps and the squeaking wheels followed him for ten whole minutes, staying about twenty paces away at all times, that Flynn eventually stopped and turned around to glare at Harry fucking Potter.
“The fuck are you following me for?”
“Who says I’m following you?” Harry instantly replied, before grimacing and shaking his head. “Actually yeah, I’m following you.”
Even as Harry seemed to have the sense to look embarrassed by the admission, Flynn continued to scowl at him, waiting for the boy to answer his question.
“Look,” Harry said. “I know you don’t like me, and I don’t like you either, but apparently you’re the only magical person who lives around me.”
“And you want to follow me to where I fucking live?” Flynn asked. “I don’t see how you being a little bitch is my fucking problem.”
“If you hadn’t come along, Dudley wouldn’t be wanting to kill me,” Harry responded with his own glare. “I mean, more than usual. I barely had time to grab my stuff before I jumped out the window.”
“Again, how is that my fucking problem?!” Flynn couldn’t help but shout, as he stomped towards the boy.
Harry jumped back surprisingly quickly, maintaining the distance between them. Flynn glowered and pulled out his wand, to which Harry did the same with a surprising amount of speed to match his draw, pointing it at his face.
“We’re not allowed to use magic,” Harry said.
“I’m well fucking aware,” Flynn replied. “I’m just thinking it might be worth it if I get to beat your sorry ass.”
It was a lie, or course. There was no way that Flynn might throw his access to Hogwarts over Hary Fucking Potter of all people, but the pulse of his magic throbbed in time with his beating heart, a sense of power coalescing in the tip of his wand all the same. Flynn held it back with a grimace, but Harry didn’t seem to be cowed by the threat in the slightest, as he kept his eyes sharp and his wand steadily aimed towards Flynn’s face.
For a moment, Flynn didn’t know what might happen. Whether Harry foolishly pulled the proverbial trigger, or Flynn’s grip on his magic slipped and accidentally fired a spell, a duel seemed almost inevitable, with neither boy willing to lower their wand first.
Thankfully, when a loud and sudden howl echoed out from the other side of the street they were on, Flynn managed to hold himself back from releasing the power gathered in his wand in surprise. He unwittingly dropped his attention from Harry, his eyes unwittingly darting to the side to barely see a shadow of an enormous dog, with fur black enough that it looked like a silhouette despite the bright summer sun, before turning back to his opponent.
Though Harry had reacted the same way that Flynn had, turning his attention to the dog in surprise, he hadn’t turned back to Flynn, seeming to almost forget about the other boy as he gaped openly at the dog instead. His wand lowered to his side.
Flynn carefully lowered his own wand, as the sound of shuffling drew his attention once more, but when he turned back around, the dog had vanished, leaving no trace of its existence aside from the disturbed shrubbery by the roadside where it had been standing a moment ago.
“What was that?” Harry asked.
“A fucking dog,” Flynn grumbled. “What, you’ve never seen one before?”
“I know what a dog is,” Harry snapped. “I’ve just never seen one that big before. Or that smart. It was like it knew what was going on and- Hey! Where are you going?”
Flynn ignored Harry and continued to walk on, grimacing to himself when he heard the patter of footsteps and squeaking of wheels coming from behind him.
Many times during the hours long walk back to the gym, Flynn considered telling his hanger-on to fuck off or just break out into a run to try and lose him. It probably would have worked, since he was confident that he could outrun Harry easily, especially with the large suitcase that the other boy was lugging around with him, but he couldn’t be assed to try.
It was just too damn hot.
Thankfully, Harry didn’t speak another word along the trip, staying quiet enough that if Flynn tried hard enough, he could pretend that he was alone.
But you were never truly alone when it came to Fredericton. Thankfully, it was early enough in the day that the shadier characters were still asleep or holed up in their crackdens, and whether it was because Flynn was intimidating enough to ward off the few curious eyes from getting too curious, or the pair of boys looked too ragged and worn down to expect that there would be anything that was hidden away in Harry’s suitcase that was worth stealing, they eventually made it to the gym without anyone harassing them on the way.
“Is this where you live?” Harry commented, as Flynn pushed open the door.
Flynn just gave him a scowl, walking inside and letting the door swing shut behind him.
Inside, the familiar sound of leather on leather echoed out in the corner of the gym where the sandbags hung, as Tom got in his morning practice. Flynn walked towards the ring at the center of the gym, grabbing his gloves on the way, and shouting as he climbed inside.
“Tom!” he barked. “Get your ass in here. I’ve got some shit to work out!”
“Jesus, Flynn!” Tom yelped. “When did you even get back? Weren’t you supposed to be watching Dudley’s match?”
“Shut the fuck up and get in the ring,” Flynn growled back, smacking his gloved fists together, causing them to echo loudly in the empty warehouse. “He’s not coming back.”
Tom froze for a second before sighing. He wiped his fist over his forehead, more smearing the sweat that dripped down it, rather than wiping it up.
“Alright,” he said. “Let’s spar.”
Tom didn’t waste any more time climbing into the ring, stretching out his neck a bit before raising his gloves. Flynn did the same, glowering at Tom and circling around him, waiting for a chance to strike.
Tom shuffled sideways to match Flynn’s movements, not willing to let Flynn back him into a corner, when he suddenly stopped and his eyes darted to the side in confusion.
“Who’s tha-”
Immediately his words were cut off when Flynn charged forward and sent a punch flying towards his head. Though he had been distracted, with his guard still up, Tom managed to deflect the punch to the side, just enough that he turned the punch from a potential knockout to a glancing blow that only barely knocked against his forehead.
“Hey!” Tom barked. “I was asking you a damn question!”
“He’s fucking nobody,” Flynn growled. “Now fucking pay attention and fight.”
“Fine, you little bastard,” Tom said. “Have it your way.”
Every year that Flynn came back from Hogwarts, even though his boxing training went mostly neglected in favour of magic and schoolwork, he usually came back feeling stronger than he did the previous year, mostly just from his natural growth and his work with Hagrid. He had certainly grown bigger too, and he only had about half a foot to go before he would start catching up to Tom, but a difference in reach and weight class wasn’t the only advantage that Tom had over him.
Even if Flynn was definitely good for his age, even if the best boxer he could compare himself to was Dudley, that meant nothing in the face of Tom. Tom was a professional boxer, and a really strong one if his flawless record of wins ever since he went pro wasn’t already an indication. Realistically, even though Flynn went into every spar against Tom with the goal of winning against him, he never really expected to achieve it.
Every time Flynn got better or stronger, Tom would respond by trying just a little harder, keeping himself at a strength where he wouldn’t risk killing the younger boy, but still making sure to beat Flynn to a bloody pulp, knowing that Flynn would threaten to stab him for anything less.
This spar with Tom proved to be no different, as by the end of the standard three minute round, which had felt like a standard eternity, Tom dropped his fists and walked to the corner of the ring, trusting that Flynn was too bruised to want to take advantage of his lack of guard, before he reached over and rung the bell.
Flynn let his fists fall at the sound and sank to the ground, as Tom pushed a small bucket in front of him to spit his blood into.
“Fanks,” Flynn said.
“You’re welcome,” Tom replied, before squatting down in front of him.
Before Flynn could ask what the fuck he wanted, Tom dropped his voice into a conspiratorial whisper.
“So are you going to tell me who your friend is, over there?” he asked.
Flynn glared at him, resisting the urge to spit blood into his face.
“He’s not my friend,” Flynn growled.
“Okay…” Tom said, nodding to himself. “But as much as I expected that, that still doesn’t answer the question of who he is.”
“You never asked me that,” Flynn said.
“Don’t get smart with me, you little bastard,” Tom said, flicking Flynn’s forehead, right over a quickly swelling bruise.
“He’s a fucking nobody,” Flynn said, loud enough for Harry to hear. “He’s just here until I shove him off to Lily’s dad.”
“Hugh?” Tom asked, as if he could be talking about anyone else. “Why?”
“Because he’s a cop. People like him are paid to deal with this shit, while I’m not,” Flynn said loudly. “So why would I bother wasting any more of my fucking time?”
“You know an Auror?” Harry asked, albeit a little hesitantly.
“A magic cop,” Flynn repeated. “You got a fucking problem with that?”
Harry frowned, considering his options for a moment before seeming to decide that he didn’t have any others.
“How often does the auror come by?” Harry asked.
“Later today,” Flynn said. “So fuck off to a corner and shut up. I want to forget you even exist.”
“Just like home,” Harry grumbled under his breath, before wheeling his suitcase to the wall without any further complaint.
Flynn scowled at Harry as the boy sat against the far corner of the wall, curling up with his knees against his chest and becoming small enough that he almost seemed to disappear into the shadows of the dimly lit gym. He couldn’t see the expression on the boy’s face, nor if he was even looking back in his direction, so Flynn turned back to his bucket, spitting another glob of blood into it before walking to the showers.
The cold shower stung against his bruises as much as it numbed them, but it was a good kind of pain, distracting him from the day so far. He might’ve stayed in the shower for longer, if it was actually effective in any way, but it was difficult to forget that Harry fucking Potter was currently in his gym, and he didn’t like wasting water anyways.
Once he was finished, He quickly threw on his old clothes and walked out, knowing that his natural body heat would dry them out quickly enough, even though it was warm enough of a day that he might’ve preferred them to stay damp for longer.
When Flynn stepped out, he scowled when he heard the sound of idle chatter coming from the other side of the room.
“You sure you don’t want anything?” Tom asked. “A water? Some snacks? It’s a scorcher today, and I can only assume you two were walking for a while.”
“It’s okay, Mr. Robinson,” Harry said, looking simultaneously uncomfortable and appreciative of Tom’s attention. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“Call me Tom,” Tom said, with a laugh. “The only ones who call me Mr. Robinson are my students. Unless you want to give the gloves a bit of a go?”
Instantly Harry grimaced, as he gave Tom a cautious smile.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m not really a fan of boxing.”
Tom laughed, shaking his head.
“Ah, I figured you’d say that,” he said. “But just so you know, I’m not particularly a fan of hitting children. The only reason I spar with Flynn is because he’ll whine if I don’t.”
“I can fucking hear you, Tom,” Flynn growled.
Though Harry flinched at the sudden realisation that Flynn had come out of the showers, Tom laughed in response.
“Oh, could you?” Tom asked. “Sorry, Flynnie. I didn’t mean it.”
“Fuck off,” Flynn said, but didn’t bother with much else. “Don’t you have better things to do with your time than gossipping?”
“No time better spent than making a new friend,” Tom responded. “Besides, I’m on my break. Our little spar was the perfect cooldown, so thanks for that, by the way.”
“Fuck you,” Flynn said.
“See?” Tom asked, turning to Harry with a smile. “Don’t worry. He’s just cranky.”
Harry didn’t respond, his eyes darting between Flynn and Tom with a look of confused mysticism, as if he couldn’t understand the language they were speaking.
“Anyways, Harry,” Tom continued, as if nothing had happened. “Could I get you anything? Water? A snack?”
“Some water would be nice,” Harry said, a bit too stunned to consider being polite, even if his eyes did widen an instant after he said it. “If that’s okay.”
“Of course it is,” Tom said, pushing himself up and walking to the kitchens.
There was a stiff silence that hung in between Harry and Flynn for a moment, as both of them watched the door to the kitchens swing shut behind Tom. Flynn would have been content to let the silence stagnate forever, but Harry didn’t seem to have the same opinion.
“Is Tom magic too?” he asked.
“No,” Flynn responded, hoping that the curt answer would be enough to shut the conversation down before it happened.
“Oh,” Harry said, staring hard at Flynn with his brow furrowed for some reason. “Is he your… family?”
Flynn stared at Harry for a few seconds, wondering if the boy was really that stupid. “He’s black,” Flynn said, pointing to his own pale face for emphasis.
“I know that,” Harry said, sounding annoyed by the suggestion that he might’ve not. “He must be close to you if you told him about magic, though.”
“You think I’m friends with that bastard?” Flynn growled, glaring through the kitchen doors towards Tom for daring to leave him alone with Harry.
Harry stayed quiet for a moment as he seemed to think.
“You're really weird, you know that?” he eventually said.
“The fuck did you just say to me?” Flynn shouted, just as Tom came out of the kitchens with a glass of water.
“I left the room for less than a minute,” he grumbled.
Thankfully, Harry didn’t speak much after that, and even though he did gain enough confidence and curiosity to wander around the gym, idly watching both Flynn and Tom while they trained, Flynn resisted the urge to snap at him, not wanting to risk provoking him into starting yet another conversation. For the next few hours, the only sound that filled the gym was the squeaking of shoes, and the echoes of leather against leather until a loud knock came from the main entrance to the gym, before the knocker opened the door uninvited.
For a brief traitorous moment, Flynn couldn’t help but entertain the idea that Harry might not be so bad if his presence could shut Lily up so easily, her mouth snapping closed mid-greeting as her eyes darted wildly between Flynn and Harry in a silent question.
Finding a rare moment of blissful silence in Lily’s presence, he let the question hang as he pointed at Hugh instead, practically pushing Harry into the magical cop.
It didn’t take Hugh long to ask Harry a couple of questions as to why he was there, and though Flynn raised an eyebrow at Harry’s response that he’d “just gotten a little annoyed by his Muggle relatives and wanted a break from them,” he didn’t care enough to speak up about it.
Hugh nodded before explaining to Harry that he should be more careful, now that an apparent magical serial killer was on the loose with possible motive to harm him, because of course there fucking was, Harry didn’t seem to be too disturbed by the idea, probably because he’d gotten used to being at the center of danger by now.
Hugh offered to take Harry to his original destination of the Leaky Cauldron, suggesting that he stay within the magical community for now, where Aurors could watch over him.
Before Harry took his offered hand and apparate away, however, Harry turned back to Flynn.
“Hey Flintstone?” Harry asked, mumbling so low that Flynn could barely hear him.
“The fuck do you want?” Flynn asked.
Harry scowled at him, before grimacing and shaking his head.
“I just wanted to say thanks. For the help today,” he said. “And sorry, I guess.”
Turning away, Harry grabbed Hugh’s outstretched hand.
An awkward silence hung in the air for a few seconds.
Harry winced before looking up at Hugh. “Is there something wrong, sir? Why aren’t we apparating?” he asked.
“Oh, it didn’t seem like you were finished,” Hugh admitted, scratching his cheek. “You’re ready to go then?”
“Yes,” Harry said, his cheeks reddening slightly. “Please.”
Hugh glanced up at Flynn, with a questioning look, before he seemed to remember his long standing grudge with the thirteen year old boy and sent him a scowl instead.
There was a loud echoing crack in the gym, and Hugh, Harry, and his suitcase instantly vanished.
“Well, I didn’t like the way he said it, but at least he finally apologized to you,” Lily said with a huff, speaking for the first time since she’d arrived.
“I guess I’m missing some context?” Tom said, scratching his head.
Flynn wanted to echo the sentiment, not knowing exactly what Harry might have even been apologizing for, other than just generally being a pain in his ass, but Lily spoke before he could, pounding a tiny fist into her tiny palm.
“C’mon Flynn,” she growled. “I’m ready to start my lesson now. I’ve got some stuff I need to work out.”
Unfortunately for Flynn, her spiteful motivations only last for a couple of minutes, as Lily laid facedown in a puddle of sweat, spouting her usual accusations that he must simply enjoy torturing her. Flynn sighed as he braced himself for another few hours of teaching, contemplating whether he was going insane as he found himself missing both Dudley for his effort, and Harry for his ability to keep Lily quiet with his presence.