Harry James Potter was a bad Boy. He knew this fact better than his own name. According to his uncle, good Boys didn't take up as much space as Harry did, they weren't tripped into valuable vases (even though Aunt Petunia always complained that she didn't like that vase), and they didn't take time out of Uncle Vernon's day to be taught how to use the lawnmower. They didn't have an imagination, didn't uses up perfectly good bandages because they'd burnt themselves on the cookstove, didn't eat as much as Harry did, and didn't act like Freaks. This was Uncle Vernon's biggest reason that Harry was a bad Boy. Harry didn't mean to be a Freak, and he tried his best to stop being one, but he wasn't exactly sure why Uncle Vernon called him that, so he didn't know what to stop doing.
Harry also tried his best to be a good Boy, but though Uncle Vernon told him what a good Boy didn't do, he'd never told Harry what a good Boy did do. Harry was smart though (at least according to his year one teacher), and he'd done his best to figure what made him a bad Boy, and how to be a proper one. As far as he'd been able to tell, every family had a Boy to do cooking and cleaning and weeding for them. He had never met another Boy… or he didn't think he had. None of the kids at school knew he was a Boy, so maybe some of the other kids in his class were Boys, too. Or maybe he was just the only Boy who went to school. Most families also had children, which were different then Boys. Dudley was a Son, and that meant that he didn't have to work, and could eat all he wanted, and could order Harry around.
Before Harry had realized this distinction in their roles, he'd tried to be a good Boy by acting like Dudley. That had failed spectacularly, ending with a week in his cupboard and three days without food or water. He didn't think they'd meant not to feed him; he couldn't work as well when he hadn't been fed. They'd probably just forgotten him again. He liked it when they forgot him, as it meant he got to read his book and play war games in peace. This time, however, Uncle Vernon had been so incensed with Harry's impudence that he'd locked the cupboard door after tossing Harry in, and Harry hadn't been able to sneak out and get food.
That was one of the reasons that Harry was so intent on learning to be a good Boy. He didn't like it when his belly hurt, and it hurt badly when he didn't get food or water. There was also Christmas; Uncle Vernon often said that bad Boys didn't deserve any presents. Harry assumed that this meant that good Boys did deserve presents. Most importantly, though, Aunt Petunia said that his parents had been Freaks, which she called Harry as well. Harry was also a Boy. Did that mean that his parents had been Boys, too? Harry idly wondered what a girl Boy was called.
That was his biggest reason for wanting to be a good Boy. If he were good, perhaps Aunt Petunia would tell him about his parents. He made a list. From what he gathered, good boys: came knowing how to cook, didn't eat much, weren't seen or heard, and took up less space then a cupboard under the stairs.
Harry had been working hard on number three; he couldn't do much about not being seen, but his teacher had become used to him not speaking, even going so far as to suggest speech therapy to Uncle Vernon on Parent-Teacher Day. Uncle Vernon had yelled at him and sent him to his cupboard for attracting attention, but since then he hadn't been yelled at for asking what Uncle Vernon called stupid questions. He'd been yelled at for plenty of other stuff, but not for stupid questions.
He'd also started on number four. Harry had moved his scavenged toys, his one book, Grimm's Fairy Tales, and his pile of ratty blankets to the very edge of underneath the steps. He'd gotten stuck three times in two days, and he had a bruise on his hip from where he'd been sleeping underneath the bottom step when Dudley jumped on it, but Aunt Petunia had almost smiled when she discovered she now had a place to put the new vacuum cleaner she'd been wanting and that made his trouble worth it. Also, with his toy soldiers and book in the smallest corner of the cupboard, Aunt Petunia was less likely to find them when she was looking for cleaning chemicals.
Right now, Harry was working on item numbers one and two. Every week, his year one class took a trip to the local library for Story Time. Though most of the children chose to sit and listen to the librarian, the were free to wander off, as long as they stayed in the library. Harry was wandering through the shelves, on a mission.
Aunt Petunia did the hard cooking whenever they had guests, and he'd seen the cookbooks she used, the ones that told you how to make fancy food. He'd made the mistake of asking for one once, and Aunt Petunia had gone off at him, shrieking at him to 'keep his freaky little hands off of her mother's cookbooks.' That had confused Harry. He knew he was a bit late in learning how to cook; apparently good Boys were born knowing how to, but couldn't he be allowed to learn? Apparently not, judging by Aunt Petunia's shrieks. So Harry took matters into his own hands; he would find some cookbooks of his own, and learn how to cook, and he'd make enough food that he'd be able to eat some too. Harry's thoughts were interrupted by a kind sounding voice from above his head.
"Are you looking for something, dearie?"
Harry jumped and spun around. He'd been so absorbed by sounding out the titles in front of him that he hadn't noticed the grey-haired librarian behind him. He mentally scolded himself. What if that had been Dudley and Piers? They were in a library with adults watching, but Aunt Petunia had never stopped Dudley from hitting Harry, so why should any body else? Harry was only a Boy, after all, and Dudley was a Son.
Harry realized he'd been staring off into space when the librarian asked, "Are you lost? Your class is with Ms. Tricia, I'll show you where." Harry was conflicted. On one hand, good Boys didn't talk, especially not to strangers. On the other hand, there were an awful lot of books in the library for him to look through, even if he only sounded out the titles. His decision was made when he realized that, by the kind way the librarian was looking at him, she probably didn't realize he was a Boy, so she didn't expect him to be silent.
He shyly said, "I'm look for cookbooks, ma'am." The librarian's eyebrows rose, and she skeptically asked,
"Cookbooks?"
"Yes, Ma'am.", Harry answered. Seized with a burst of inspiration, he added, "My aunt wanted me to get some while I was here." The librarian smiled at him, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. She introduced herself as Mrs. Amy, led him to a shelf by a cozy looking set of chairs, and helped him pick out several books, including "The Child's Cookbook," "Desserts for Dummies," and "202 Recipes." He followed her up to the checkout counter and discovered his next problem when she asked for his library card.
"Huh?", Harry asked, brow furrowed. Mrs. Amy quickly explained what a library card was, and pulled out a form for him to take home to his guardian. Harry wrinkled his nose in consternation, trying to think of something, anything, that would get the librarian to help him. With a glance at the form, he'd realized that he would have no chance of understanding most of what he needed to fill out, and he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Aunt Petunia wouldn't help him. He put on his most pitiful face and looked up at the librarian.
"But it was supposed to be a surprise!" The librarian raised an eyebrow at him.
"I thought you said your aunt wanted you to get those books." Harry looked down, as though ashamed.
"Well, she said she wanted to look at some new cookbooks." He look back up at the librarian, inventing wildly. "But it's her birthday this week, and I don't have any money to buy her anything, and I don't wanna ask her for money to buy her something, so I thought I could at least show her some new books…" He purposefully trailed off, expression pleading. The librarians expression softened. If only her children had been this thoughtful…
"Your aunt is a very lucky lady," she said, smiling at Harry. "Now, lets get this form filled out." She knew she was breaking policy, but the child was just so cute, with his little button nose, bright green eyes, and messy black hair.
Harry knew what year he was born in, but he had to invent a birthday. He also had to promise to take the form home with him and get it signed by his aunt. Once he'd nodded in fervent agreement, the librarian copied the information into the library's records, printed Harry out a library card, then checked his books out. Harry thank Mrs. Amy and stuffed the books in his ragged backpack, glancing over at the rest of his class to make sure Dudley was still enthralled in the tale of the stinky cheese man. He was. Harry moseyed over to the children's section, to a bookshelf behind Dudley, mostly so neither Dudley nor Piers could see him, but somewhat because he'd seen a title that interested him. He pulled a book entitled "How to Train Your Dragon" off of the shelf and smiled at the illustration on the back. He looked at the shelf to discover that there two more "How to…" books, apparently in the same series. He pulled them off of the shelves, too. He looked at the three books in his hands. He was torn. They wouldn't teach him how to be a better boy, and they'd distract him from his chores, which would make Harry an even worse Boy. They looked to have so much imagination that Uncle Vernon would have a fit if he caught Harry reading them. They might even give Harry all sorts of the freaky ideas Aunt Petunia always complained about. Sneaking a look at Dudley to make sure he wasn't watching, Harry dashed to the checkout counter and gave Mrs. Amy his card before he changed his mind.