A boy with messy black hair sat on his bed staring at the ceiling thinking, something he was wont to do recently. This may seem like a normal occurrence, but when one does this for hours on end, usually one needs something or someone to help sort everything out. His hands were clasped behind his head in a way that would have been lazy and carefree if not for the tenseness in his shoulders.

"Get down here boy!" a shriek called from downstairs.

The boy glanced at the door, as if it were the reason for the offending shriek, and let out a heavy sigh. "No, Aunt Petunia"

A sharp gasp could be heard, then muttering, then something that reminded the boy of a small tank clomping its way up the stairs.

A large man appeared at the door, his face quickly turning purple, something the boy found immensely amusing. "What do you mean 'no' boy?" His tone held a threat that was impossible to ignore.

The boy did not even spare the man a glance. "You would think after, what is it now? Fourteen, fifteen years? You would think you could call me by my real name." The boy sat up suddenly and extended his right hand. He had a look in his eye that would show anyone he was asking for trouble. "Harry James Potter, not so pleased to meet you."

The fat man turned a deeper shade of purple and advanced on the boy, Harry, who vaguely recognized a doorbell ringing. He adopted a menacing tone that would cause most people to cower in fear. "You will treat your aunt, your cousin, and me with respect while you live here."

Harry removed his hand slowly and stared at the man. "You see, Uncle Vernon, I feel that respect must be earned and, frankly, you haven't earned mine." Vernon turned an even deeper shade of purple, something his nephew hadn't realized was possible. "I will treat you with as much respect as you show me."

Vernon snapped. "WHY YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE…"

A thin woman with a long neck interrupted him. "Vernon there is someone –" She stopped as she saw the scene before her. Her husband was standing over her nephew who looked…completely calm. Her eyes narrowed. "What did you do. boy?" she snipped at him.

"Again with the 'boy' thing!" Harry said exasperatedly. He realized he was, unwisely, provoking them, but he didn't particularly care. "You know maybe I should call you 'man' and 'woman'. Although 'pig' and 'horse' would be more fitting…"

"THAT'S IT" Vernon roared. "GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE THIS INSTANT AND NEVER COME BACK!"

Harry glanced at him like you would a stubborn bit of dirt on the floor. "You know that is the first good idea you have ever had." His aunt and uncle looked at him with shock.

'Not what they were expecting' Harry thought with an evil-looking smirk that sent shivers down his aunt and uncle's spines. "Well I'll be off then, just a few things to pack up. Not that I really want to bring any of these clothes with me but oh well…" He trailed off and looked at his relatives expectantly. They stared back at him, mouths hanging open. "You can leave now" he said slowly, as though talking to a child.

His uncle suddenly adopted a triumphant look and spun on his heel and left the room. Harry could hear his laughter echo down the hallway. His aunt just stared at him. Slowly she spoke softly, as though she were not speaking to Harry. "I'm sorry; I tried."

She turned slowly and left. Harry stared after her, confused, then shrugged and began packing his things

BREAK (does anyone know how to make those line thingys?)

Harry walked out onto the street heaving a huge trunk with his initials engraved on it behind him. He turned and cast one last glance at Number 4 Privet Drive before turning to the dark, empty street and shoving his right hand into the air.

This may have seemed an odd gesture, as a taxi was obviously not going to show up, but Harry was not an ordinary sixteen-year-old. He lived in the wizarding world for the better part of each of the last six years, going to school at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. To him this was a normal gesture, although he did glance at his trunk to make sure it was out of tripping distance.

A purple double-decker bus suddenly appeared out of no where and a boy not much older than Harry and with a face covered in pimples began an obviously rehearsed speech.

"Hello! I'm Stan Shunpike and welcome –"

Harry cut him off. "Thanks Stan I just need the Leaky Cauldron"