Harry was back in his cupboard. He was fortunate that the Dursleys believed it to be a form of punishment for whatever mistake they considered him to have made, and he was extra careful to not let it be known that he rather liked it inside. He slowly folded his scrawny hands to hold his thin, skinny legs together, and laid his head over his bony knees. He had spent so much of his life sitting and thinking in the dark of his cupboard that the place had become his sanctuary from all that was wrong. For inside his cupboard, he was safe.

Harry had rather liked it at the zoo, he thought. It wasn't often he got to visit places other than school, Aunt Marge's, Mrs Figg's, or if he was especially fortunate, Mrs Yvonne's. That was the extent of the world seen by the lonely boy. Not that he hadn't heard stories of all the Amusement parks, Hamburger joints and Ice cream shops from Dudley, but he knew it was wrong for him to want to visit them too. How could it not be, if something strange always ended up happening around him? Take the zoo for example. He was pretty sure it was impossible to be able to talk to snakes, and he still didn't understand how his wishing for the Boa constrictor to be free had made the viewing glass vanish. It was almost like magic. But that surely wasn't possible… was it?

Harry conjectured he wouldn't be let out of the cupboard for a long, long time. He was rather glad to be able to skip school due to his punishment. He didn't mind school per se, but with how much he had to skip it due to his punishments, much of what was taught in the classes rarely made sense to him. It wasn't like he could really study in the darkness of his cupboard. He barely managed to scrape passing marks, which, coupled with suitable encouragements from Dudley and his gang, made sure no one wanted anything to do with him. His teachers did not like him much either, as he attended so few of his classes, was a loner and often found himself in trouble, which almost always involved Dudley. It didn't help that the Dursleys had managed to convince the whole school staff that Harry was always in the wrong somehow. He reckoned it was due to his grades.

Harry waited for his eyes to slowly get accustomed to the dark. He imagined that this darkness was his shield; a cloak to hide him from all the confrontations which waited for him outside. It helped him relax… as much as he was used to anyway.

Harry preferred to have a quiet life. Going back as much as he could remember, all the conversation he had with the Dursleys involved shouting. He couldn't really make them speak softer, so he preferred to avoid situations where he would be forced to talk. He never knew what he might end up getting into if he said anything now, did he? Inside his cupboard, no one disturbed him. He didn't even have to hear Dudley, since without Harry to pester, his cousin spent most of his time either upstairs or outside the house. The only sounds which filtered his cupboard were dimmed. He supposed he could live with that, though he preferred the absolute silence of the nights. This was Harry's favourite pastime: simply shielding himself from all the bright images and the loud noises, and thinking.

Harry thought back to the zoo. The Boa Constrictor which had escaped was from Brazil. Harry wondered how the snake might be doing. He was sure Brazil was far. Perhaps too far for a snake to travel, though he wasn't really sure. Where would it have gone? Would it be caught and put back in the zoo? Harry wondered if somehow he could, like the snake before him, escape. But however far Brazil might be, at least the snake had somewhere to go. Where would Harry go? Maybe even though Harry had been raised here in Privet drive, there was somewhere he, too, belonged; probably somewhere away from the Dursleys. Somewhere quiet and dark, where his eyes didn't ache from too much light, and where he wasn't subjected to all the noise. Or perhaps where his real parents used to live? Maybe they would show him all the places he had heard of in Dudley's tales and perhaps even those from his English professor's stories. If his eyes could stand it, that is.

Harry was almost certain he needed new glasses, but who was he to ask anything of the Dursleys? His current ones had been too tight for years when he had finally complained, and uncle Vernon had simply broken them from the middle to fix them. Decent application of tape wouldn't make up for the fact that he could no longer see clearly with the existing spectacles however. He still remembered how much he had been scolded by his aunt and uncle when they had been called three years ago by the school nurse and instructed to buy Harry his glasses. If he had magic, he would fix his eyes so that he could see the whole world, which he imagined was wonderful, without his eyes complaining and demanding for the dark. He wasn't sure if he wanted this though… The dark was his only friend, wasn't it?

Hopefully, this was one thing he could change. For once, he was going to go to a school where there was no Dudley, even if it was only the local secondary school, Stonewall High. It was lucky that his uncle refused to spend as much on him as they did on his cousin he surmised. Maybe without a Dursley nearby, he could stay out of trouble long enough that maybe, just maybe, someone would want to talk to him (without scolding)? He didn't have very high hopes however; he was sure no one would want anything to do with him. But in here, at least, he could dream without being punished.

Even when Harry was ultimately allowed out of his cupboard, which was after the beginning of summer vacations, he spent most of his time inside. The only times he was out was when he was supposed to do chores, eat meals, or when Dudley and his gang showed up. In the latter case he made a point to spend a lot of time away from number four, Privet Drive. It was pure survival instinct really. Harry did NOT prefer being found by the Harry Hunters. The only thing he hated more was the beating which followed being found.

It was one such morning. Harry had been awoken by a foul stench coming from the kitchen. Not trusting himself to get away with asking anything about it, he simply went on with his business. He couldn't avoid wondering when he saw its source as he went for breakfast in the kitchen, however.

A large metal tub in the sink contained what looked like dirty rags swimming in grey water. Maybe aunt was… no, he couldn't justify this with anything. He asked his aunt, "What are these for?"

Her lips tightened as they always did if he dared to ask a question.

"Your new school uniform," she snapped.

Harry looked in the bowl again. "Oh," he said. He did not understand the half of it. Why would his new school uniform need to be soaked in what looked like dirty water? Harry guessed he would get to know the reason sometime so no point asking.

Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from Harry's new uniform. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table.

They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat.

"Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.

"Make Harry get it."

"Get the mail, Harry."

Harry knew better than to argue, and went to receive the mail. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Aunt Marge, a brown envelope… a bill, perhaps, and a letter addressed unmistakably to him?!

This had to be a sick joke, Harry thought. He never received letters. Who would write to him? BUT there it was, clearly written,

Mr. H. Potter

4, Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

The envelope wasn't like anything he had seen before. It was thick and heavy, made in yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald green ink. There was no stamp. Turning the envelope over, his hand trembling, Harry saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H.

"Hurry up, boy!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" He chuckled at his own joke.

Harry almost groaned. He had missed the chance to read his letter. After all, if there was one thing he was completely sure of, the Dursleys would surely punish him for some reason or another if they saw him with a letter. It was too dark in his cupboard to read… Oh well, he'd rather keep his first ever letter, even if it did turn out to be a sick joke, safe.

Harry surreptitiously tucked his letter under his shirt before heading back to the kitchen. He handed Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard, and sat down as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Finally, the opportunity to read his letter did come later that day. Harry had, as always, slipped out of the house around the time his big, fat cousin would arrive with his gang of minions. Settling down on a swing in the local park, he finally removed the meticulously done seal and began reading.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

Harry reckoned there was plenty wrong with this letter. For starters, he could clearly hear his Aunt screeching inside his mind, "There is no such thing as magic!" So how would she react to even a mention of a proper school for Wizards, Harry didn't want to know. Moreover, what did this McGonagall mean by 'we await your owl?' What did they expect him to? Somehow convince Uncle Vernon to buy him an owl; if one could even be bought at a pet shop… and then mail it to this Hogwarts School, wherever it was? Why wasn't there any stamp on the envelope?

But magic would explain so many things which he didn't understand about him. How, for example, did he understand the snake at the zoo? How did Mrs. Peterson's wig turn blue when she refused to believe him? Or how did he end up on the school building's roof while running away from Dudley and his friends? Why did his hair grow so fast… Harry decided then and there that magic had to be real. So that would make him a magician he reckoned.

It probably also meant that he belonged with other magicians rather than with the Dursleys. No big surprise there. It was already known to him, given how differently he and Dudley were treated, that he belonged elsewhere. Now the only thing that remained was how to find others like him.

After much consideration, Harry decided he had to show the letter to his guardians. It wasn't like he could do anything alone, and the worst the Dursleys would do to him was lock him back in the cupboard. Which would, Harry thought, surely be an upgrade from having to be in their plain view. But even if it was logical, Harry did not want to risk his first ever letter being taken away from him, or maybe even torn. So he simply stored the letter inside his cupboard and tried his best to forget all about it.

The subsequent days passed as usual: Harry woke up to aunt Petunia's shrill voice, prepared breakfast, ate, cleaned the house, receded inside his cupboard, came back out, prepared lunch… In all of this, he almost forgot all about the letter. Almost being the keyword.

When Harry wasn't attending to his share of chores, he took to counting down days till July 31, and not only for the fact that he was going to turn eleven that day. He often wondered if someone from the Hogwarts place will react to not receiving his owl. As more and more days passed without incident, Harry convinced himself that the letter was nothing more than a cruel attempt to lift his hopes before squashing them. There was no way he could have responded to it, no way he could courier an owl as he didn't know where to send it. So he managed to stop overthinking and started awaiting the end of summer holidays and his first day in the new school.

31st July came and went as every other day did. Harry wasn't surprised no one remembered his birthday, as there was nothing new about it. The fact that it was last day to respond to the letter was acknowledged with merely a fleeting thought. Even if magic was real, it probably wasn't going to be a part of Harry's quiet life, bar the few unfortunate mishaps which would continue landing him in trouble. At least now he had a justification for all those occurrences.