Little Harry Potter
Chapter One
"Wake up Harry!" screamed Dudley through the keyhole of the cupboard under the stairs. "It's my birthday! Time to open presents!"
Groaning, Harry sat up and groggily reached to put on his glasses. Indeed, it was Dudley's fifth birthday and time for him to open the twenty or more gifts from his parents. Harry quickly pulled on shorts and a t-shirt and stomped out of the cupboard and into the kitchen where his pig of a cousin was already three packages into the stack of presents taller than he was. "Hi," he said, sitting down in a chair, hoping for the warm greeting that would never come.
"Where are your manners?" grumbled his Uncle Vernon, "You know it's our Dudders' special day. Wish him happy birthday!"
"Happy birthday Dudley," said little Harry, looking at the floor. "Here's your present. I made it all by myself." He shyly held out the messily wrapped gift. Dudley grabbed it roughly and ripped off the paper to reveal a picture of two boys, one rather large, labeled "Dudley," and a skinny one, labeled "Harry."
"I don't like it Mommy," whined Dudley, crumpling it up and throwing it aside. "Make him get me something better!"
"Of course Duddykins," crooned Aunt Petunia. Then, turning to Harry, "Why couldn't you get your cousin a decent gift Harry?"
"I'm sorry Aunt Petunia," he said, beginning to cry, "I didn't have any money. I did the best I could."
"Stop your crying," barked Uncle Vernon, "and go sit in time out. Think about how you could have ruined your favorite cousin's birthday."
Harry went back to his cupboard. It's not fair, he thought. They're so mean to me. Little Harry began to get angry at how unfair it was that nobody appreciated how hard he had worked on Dudley's present. All of a sudden he heard a crash from the other room. It was followed by three more, and a scream from Aunt Petunia. Harry crept into the kitchen to see what was happening. It looked like Petunia's crystal glasses had fallen off the shelf, narrowly missing Dudley's head. He giggled a little at this, and Uncle Vernon looked up.
"What'd you do boy?"
"Nothing!"
"Then how do you think these glasses fell off the shelf? Do you think they jumped off by themselves?" Vernon was yelling now.
"I don't know," Harry said softly. "Maybe it was magic." Petunia shrieked at this, and Dudley went to hide behind his mother.
"THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS MAGIC!" Harry's uncle roared, turning about four shades of purple.
"I-i-i-I'm sorry," squeaked Harry, his eyes filling with tears once more. "I was just joking."
"That is nothing to joke about you ungrateful child. Now you go to your room and don't come out until dinner!" reprimanded Aunt Petunia. Crying again, Harry went back to his cupboard and sat down.
Harry parents had died in a car accident that left him with only a scar on the forehead when he was one year old and, being his only known family, the Dursleys grudgingly took him in. Vernon was a beefy man with a large moustache, and Petunia was scrawny, with beady eyes and a long neck, which was frequently used for spying on her neighbors. Dudley, his cousin, was a whale of a kid. By the time he turned four, he weighed almost one hundred pounds. His parents doted on him every chance they got, while Harry was given hand-me-down clothes and noticeably smaller portions of food. Dudley and his friends loved to pick on Harry. They would steal and break the few toys that he had and then they would call him names such as "Four-eyes," or "Scar-head." Meanwhile, the Dursleys looked at him as a waste of money and an annoyance, though four-year-old Harry Potter wanted nothing more than his mommy and daddy who loved him.