hey, new story here. i know the first chapter is a bit on the sort side. ill try not to have the other chapters so short. i figured this was a good start to the story.

I want to say RIGHT NOW, RIGHT HERE that I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER! that right is reserved for J. .

Other than that though, enjoy the story. Rate and or Review please.

Oh. and anything bolded are from the books.

Thats all. Enjoy.

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Harry Potter was small for his 11 years of age. He lived with his aunt Petunia a horse faced woman with double the amount of neck possible, hi uncle Vernon a whale of a man with a bushy moustache and hardly any neck, and his cousin Dudley who harry liked to think of as a pig in a wig. There could not have been a more opposite family even if someone tried to be. Where Harry was quiet and to himself, his relatives and he uses that word loosely were loud and boisterous. Dudley was a bully, picking on everyone, Vernon often came home drunk ranting about any little thing and Petunia spent her time gossiping with anyone who would listen. Where Harry liked to read books, Dudley liked the television and to him books were only used for decoration, Vernon too preferred the television, and Petunia preferred the gossip rags.

Harrys birthday was coming up in a couple days and he wasn't looking forward to it. Harry never did. His Birthday was never celebrated by his relatives. In fact, he was given the worst of the worst chores to do on that day. The day of he was told to clean and organize the attic and not come down until it was. To him there wasn't much to do, and so he pretended to move things around. It was as he was lofting up a box to put back in a different spot that the book fell out. Slightly confused as to why a book would be up here as all the books owned by the Dursley's were proudly on display downstairs in the living room. Curious Harry picked it up. The book looked to be in perfect condition. The cover was black with a dark green around the edges. 3 dog heads took up the center, a red stone sat at the bottom while behind the title a bit was some kind of letter. Harry sucked in a breath as his eyes moved over the title. HARRY POTTER AND THE SORCERE'S STONE.

"why would I have a book with my name in the title? And what is a sorcerer's stone?" Harry asked himself as he opened the book to read a bit.

My and Mrs. Dursley, of number four Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense

Harry couldn't hold back the snort that escaped at that. That certainly sounded like them. Harry skims some stopping at something that catches is attention.

"A letter?" Repeated professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on a wall. "Really Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous - a legend—I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as harry Potter day in the future…"

He? Famous? For what? And where was this letter that this Dumbledore guy left with him, and why did he never see it? Figure the answer would come, he read on finding that his scar came from when he survived something he shouldn't have, not from a car crash. He reached the end of the chapter.

"well this is interesting. Who would write a book about me? Let's see what more there is."