In a small house at Number 4 Privet Drive there lived what seemed to be a perfectly ordinary family at least to outward appearances. However in this seemingly normal house there lived an extraordinary little boy by the name of Harry Potter.
Harry did not yet know how extraordinary he was, that would only occur to him in the following years. He thought himself to simply be an orphan taken in by his Aunt and Uncle and cousin. Laying on the bed that was too small in the cupboard under the stairs he listened to the conversation taking place outside his door.
Vernon Dursley had just returned home from work. He sounded much more excited than he usually did on a Monday evening, even going so far as to whistle a jaunty tune. Coming through the door he shed his coat from his rather large and rotund frame and hung it on the hook next to him. "Petunia! Good news!! My boss has taken us up on our invitation to dinner! He and his wife will be coming on Thursday!"
Turning to his wife who was standing in the kitchen doorway he couldn't help but noticed the rather pinched expression on her face. (Although to tell the truth, her face always looked rather pinched). "We received a letter today, Vernon, delivered by an owl (of all things), concerning the boy."
"What has he done now? You would think he would be grateful to us for taking him in after his useless parents got themselves killed, but all he does is continue to cause trouble! He never learns his lesson, does he?" As he spoke Vernon's face became more ruddy than it already was and he moved over to the locked cupboard door. Throwing open the door, he looked down at the small boy curled up on the bed. Reaching in and grabbing the skinny arm, he pulled the boy from the small space.
"What did you do boy? Who have you been telling lies to? Did someone see one of your freakish tricks?" Shaking the small arm he held with spittle flying from his lips as he yelled "What did I tell you about your tricks? I will not have it!"
Used to his kind of treatment and knowing he had done nothing wrong, Harry looked at his uncle through the large round glasses perched on his nose. Even when his uncle raised his hand and struck him on his bum and lower back, he remained silent knowing that anything he said or did in this situation would only be used against him.
"The letter was from those people. They said they would be coming to take him away, that we were abusing him and that he would be placed where he would be safer!" At this Vernon released the boy and turned to his wife.
" How dare they imply that he is not safe here! He was dumped on our doorstep and we have done nothing but try to make him normal! Is it our fault that he is too stupid to learn? Ingrates, the whole lot of them! Let them take him, he was never wanted here anyway!" Turning back to the boy he gave him a small shove toward the cupboard.
"Get in there boy! I don't want to see you again before you leave!" The door slammed behind Harry who listened as it was re-locked. "How much longer will he be here?”
“They said he would be picked up by Friday.” She assured her husband in her strident tone of voice.
“Hmpf. Good riddance, then! At least now the boy won't be around to be a bad influence on our Dudders!"
Crawling back into his bed, Harry curled himself into a small ball. The pain of the blows his Uncle had given him pushed aside for the moment. As he watched the small spiders he shared his space with dangle from the ceiling he wondered what exactly was going to happen to him. He knew the Dursley's didn't treat him the same way they treated his cousin Dudley. They didn’t even treat him the way he saw other parents interact with their own children. He hated it here honestly, but couldn't remember being anywhere else. Reaching up beneath the unruly black fringe laying on his forehead he touched the lightning shaped scar. A memory of a pretty red haired woman smiling down at him immediately flashed through his head. He was almost sure this was his mum, though he had never seen a picture of either of his parents. This was the only good memory that he could recall before the Dursley's, and none of his memories here were what most would probably consider good. Rolling onto his back Harry let his mind wander about what was going to happen to him and where he would end up until he fell into a fitful sleep.