I used to dream. Not crazy dream; I never imagined being an astronaut or Prime Minister. I never saw myself receiving parades or awards. I know better than to wish for the impossible.
But still, I used to dream. I would have my own bed. I would have brand new clothes that actually fit me. I would have books that didn't have pages ripped out or toys with the heads and arms still attached. I might even have a toy that I actually got to pick for myself, or was picked out just for me, instead of just being someone else's castoffs. I would never be hungry without having food available. I would be able to rest when I got tired. I would not have to do so many chores. I used to dream but, I knew, I wished for impossible things.
I used to have nightmares. I would hear people screaming and dying. I would feel myself flying before being abandoned in a dark place I just knew would be horrible. I would hear a voice saying, "No, Not Harry!" Even in my nightmares no one wants me; no one wants useless, disgusting, weak, little, freaky Harry. I used to see a green light, the very color of my eyes, which could kill people. My eyes killing people, it just proved that I am clearly evil and will one day become a criminal or drunken killer just like my parents. I used to have nightmares but I told myself that the images were impossible.
I used to have nightmares. I would get a bed, and then break it. I would get new clothes and then spill and stain then horribly. I would get new, complete books, but I would be unable to understand them. I would pick my own toys, and then lose them. I would get food, and become as fat as my walrus uncle. I would not have chores, and become as lazy as my cousin. I used to have nightmares but I knew that they could never happen. I knew even my nightmares were impossible.
I used to hope. I hoped I would grow tall enough not to be picked on. I hoped I would grow strong enough to protect myself. I hoped that I would have a safe place to hide when people were chasing me. I used to hope, but I knew that what I hoped for was impossible.
Once I received the first magical visitor, once Hagrid literally crashed into my life and turned it upside down and inside out, I thought that maybe I had been wrong before. I thought that maybe the horrible nightmares and pain were over. I that that maybe the dreams and hopes I had once had could possibly come true.
Oh, Oh how wrong I was.
Oh, how I wish I had never thought to think positively. I should have known that, for me, anything positive would eventually turn negative.