Disclaimer: None of what you recognize is mine. 'nuff said.
Chapter 1: Alternate Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous
It was another one of those days at number 4 Privet Drive. The sun was beating overhead, a horse-faced blonde woman was peeking over the fence spying on the neighbors, and a boy with messy black hair could be seen working in the garden. Now this may seem like just another ordinary residence in Little Whinging, Surrey, but that is where you would be wrong, my friend.
For you see, the messy black haired boy currently straining to root out a weed is no ordinary boy. His name is Harry Potter, and he is a wizard.
Harry is no ordinary wizard, though. Mention his name to any fellow wizard and what follows will be a tale of friendship, life, love, trust, and betrayal. But that is a story for another day.
Right now, though, Harry is just a boy weeding a garden, glaring balefully at the stubborn ones that refuse to uproot. He is, to all appearances, much the same as you or I.
Alas, I digress. Let us take a closer look at the life of one Harry Potter, beneath the surface of everyday appearances…
Harry sighed in relief as he finished pulling the last stubborn weed from the flower bed. His summer had been decent so far, with minor chores given to him by Uncle Vernon while the rest of his relatives pretty much avoided him when possible.
Wiping his brow, he gathered the uprooted weeds, stood up, and headed toward the house for a cold glass of water and a shower. Along the way, he dropped the weeds in the trash bin and put away the garden spade that he had been using.
Upon entering the house, he gave a half-hearted glance toward Aunt Petunia and Dudley, the former still peeking on the neighbors and the latter engrossed in the latest program on the telly. Finishing off the glass of water, he placed it in the sink and headed upstairs for a shower.
His room this summer looked a bit different from years past. Oh, there was still the calendar on the wall and Dudley's broken toys were all still present, but he had managed to keep some muggle money in his trunk. On the first chance he got, he snuck into town and bought one of those sturdy plastic bookcases. They were great for holding lots of knick-knacks and he ended up placing his trunk and most of his school supplies on those shelves. That was another difference, this summer. The Dursley's had allowed him to keep his school stuff this year, on the threat of being turned into something "freakish" by Harry's godfather. Harry, of course, neglected to mention that Sirius was innocent and probably much to involved in dealings with Dumbledore to come visit Harry this summer.
Grabbing a towel and other necessities, Harry made his way to the bathroom for a shower. After finishing up, Harry was walking out of the bathroom when he noticed something strange.
Do I have dirt on my upper lip? Harry thought to himself. No, it can't be. I just took a shower after all. Upon closer inspection, Harry noticed that it wasn't dirt but actually hair! Not only that, but he noticed a few dark hairs growing on the end of his chin. Hmm. I'm going to have to start shaving soon. That probably means I'll have to pick up some deodorant as well. Hey, I wonder how wizards deal with body odor. Is there some sort of charm?
The first person to ask about that knowledge was Hermione. The very next instant, that idea was thrown out the window because…well…Hermione was a girl. He didn't want to ask her about that kind of stuff. That would be embarrassing with a capital "E". Deciding that his godfather would be the appropriate one to ask, Harry quickly wrapped a towel around himself and headed back down the hallway to his room. Once there he quickly dressed in Dudley old clothes – some sort of orangish-brown t-shirt and a pair of pants 10 sizes too big for him – and proceeded to owl Sirius.
Dear Snuffles,
How have you been doing lately? Thing here at the Dursley's have been going decently, I guess. They're all scared that you will come and hex them if they put one toe out of line.
The reason I'm writing you today is that I want to ask you a question: how do witches and wizards deal with body odor? Is there a charm or a potion or something? The muggles have a product which you rub on your underarm and it gives off a pleasant aroma, usually something minty or the like.
Oh, and another thing. Remember at the end of the year in the hospital wing, Dumbledore mentioned something called the "old crowd." One of those names was an Arabella Figg. Since it would not be like Dumbledore to leave me here without some sort of protection, I'm better that this Arabella Figg character is actually my old babysitter, Mrs. Figg. Seeing as how I haven't been over to her house since before I got my Hogwarts letter, I'm going to go visit her tomorrow and surreptitiously check for evidence that she might be a witch. Don't worry, I won't confront her about anything until you respond, either confirming or refuting my suspicions.
Hope everything is going well for you so far. If Professor Lupin is with you, tell him that I said "hi."
Harry
When finished with the letter to Sirius, Harry called Hedwig, his pet owl, over to him and tied the letter to her leg.
"Can to take this to Sirius for me, girl?" Harry asked.
Hedwig hooted softly in response, nipped him affectionately on the finger, and flew out the open window.
After watching Hedwig fly off into the distance, Harry, feeling quite hungry after a long days work, walked back downstairs to scrounge up some dinner. Most days during the summer, Harry was on his own for dinner, having to raid the icebox for leftovers or fix his own meals. This arrangment didn't bother Harry in the slightest, and he was careful to always clean up the kitchen after eating, lest Aunt Petunia have cause to complain and force him to start eating his meals with the rest of the "family."
His hunger satisfied, Harry trudged back upstairs to his room and pulled out his only remaining subject for summer homework: the Potions essay.
Two hours later, having made decent progress on the topic – Compare and contrast a Healing Potion and a Strength Restoring one. Be sure to include common ingredients, usage, effectiveness, and any side effects. Minimum length: 4 scrolls of parchment. – Harry reached over, turned off his desk lamp, and climb into bed.
