AN: I do not own Harry Potter or other associated works
Harry James Potter of number 4 Privet Drive was a most curious boy. Engrossed from a young age with the mysteries of the world of writing, Harry became somewhat addicted to the local library. So it was, on the day before his 11th birthday that young Harry found himself browsing the aisles of the fiction section of the Little Whinging library. Picking out a book, he walked up to the front counter and presented himself to Samantha Blaze, a young wispy 18 or 19 year old girl with bright red hair, that reminded Harry of the fire place the Dursleys once had. "Hiya Harry," the girl said with her trademark smile, "Hi Sam, just this book please." Harry handed her the worn leather book embossed with only four numbers. 1984. Its ancient leather cover had seen years of love and neglect. Inside, its yellow pages, filled with memories of hot summer days spent under trees, and cold winter nights under a warm quilt. "Alright Harry, all done, see you next week". "See ya Sam." Harry left the library and set out along the dark roads of Surrey to make his way back to the Dursleys for this evening's dinner, presented by Harry Potter, resident housekeeper and waiter. He threw open the front door, and walked quietly to his awaiting bed, if only to catch a moment's respite before being put to work. "About time you got back boy!" bellowed Uncle Vernon, a short pudgy man with no neck, a bushy black moustache and a face completed with small mean blue eyes, that seemed rather out of place on a man of his character. The arrival of Harry's Hogwarts letter a week before had brought the man's blue eyes into an uncharacteristic state he had never seen on the man before. Joy. Harry had never seen Vernon so excited in his life. For one short moment, all was right in the world. That the day was the best day of Harry Potter's life, or at least, the best day so far.
He still had no idea what this meant though. What was Hogwarts? How did the letter know where he lived? These thoughts had surfaced in Harry's mind several times over the last week, again, he pushed them to the bottom of his mind, and went about serving dinner to the Dursleys, knowing it was only a month until he was rid of them for good. Harry showered and retreated to the relative sanctuary of his new bedroom, diving under the covers, he flipped open the cover of his next adventure.
Harry rubbed his eyes and climbed out of bed. Today was his birthday. Tugging on his oversized red robe he raced downstairs and stared in bewilderment at all the gifts laid out for him. A loud banging on his door awoke Harry from his dream, and brought him back to the sad gift free reality. He should have known better than to dream that wildly, after all Harry had more chance of winning the lottery than being gifted anything of worth from his guardians.
The door erupted open and in the doorway stood the largest man Harry had ever seen. "ello Harry, happy birthday," the large man said in a gruff and deep, but friendly manner. Behind him, Vernon Dursley stood in complete shock.