This is my first fan fiction story. From just the first chapter it doesn't seem to have much point to it, but if you bear with me the plot will form (and get more interesting). Please review! Disclaimer: I do not own rights to any part of this story. It's as simple as that. Rated T for comical gore/violence (which has yet to appear in the story) and fairly mild language.
I just wanted to say, before the story takes off too much, that I will be adding references to many different books, movies, etc., to this story, not all of which every reader will get. I will do my best to explain them without interfering with the story, but the bottom line is that you may just not get some things. Which is fine. However I would like to recommend that, if you are interested enough in the story to do a little homework, you read part of the wikipedia page on the video game Portal (by the company Valve. If you enter the words "Portal (video game) into the wiki search box, it'll take you to the right page). The "Plot" and very short "Characters" sections of said page should be plenty of information for you to understand the basics of what's going on, although I'm sure the details would be funnier if you've actually played the game. Hope you continue to enjoy the story! Also, I am making it a priority not to include any content that would move the rating up again, so no worries. Pretty-please R&R!
There was a boy who lived on No. 4 Private Drive ("Keep Out!", "Non-Residents Will Be Shot Presently!"), under the stairs, in a cupboard. His life so far had been pretty crappy.
He had grown up with the Dursley family, after his own parents (including Mrs. Dursley's sister, Harry's mother) had died in a car accident. The Dursleys consisted of an aforementioned Mrs. Petunia Dursley, a Mr. Vernon Dursley, and a young Mr. Dudley Dursley. The latter two took after Vernon's side of the family in physical characteristics, or lack thereof, when it came to necks. Both were very fat and stocky, with loud, impatient dispositions. Petunia was more or less the opposite – thin and quiet, and possessing nearly enough neck to make up for both Vernon and Dudley. They were a content family, except for Dudley's occasional tantrum (usually followed by much fawning over by Petunia and such phrases as "Oh, our poor Duddykins, Mummy and Daddy will make everything alright," and "Does Dinky Duddydums need a sweet to cheer him up?").
And then there was Harry. Almost eleven years before our story begins, Harry, just a baby, had been left on the Dursley's doorstep soon after the death of Petunia's sister Lily and her husband James. The Dursleys had raised Harry none too kindly – they were afraid he possessed the same strange abilities as his parents. And if he did, the Dursleys felt it must be kept a close secret, even from Harry himself. Dudley and his gang of friends at school made sure nobody wanted to talk to the odd boy with the broken glasses, and Harry soon learned not to talk to anyone else – this resulted in Dudley attempting to beat Harry up after school. This usually did not work, since Harry was very quick, but it meant that he would have to escape to his room under the stairs, bar his bed across the door...and watch the spiders crawl slowly across the ceiling.
Harry hated spiders. He also hated ants, flies, crickets, grasshoppers, and any other kind of bug that one might find in England, but spiders were the worst. Harry had long ago written an entire declaration against any bugs that found their way into the cupboard. Sadly, Vernon had found it a few months ago, determined that Harry was involved with some bizarre religious cult, burned the paper, and locked Harry in the cupboard for three weeks. Luckily, Harry had managed to pick the lock before he surrendered to the spider-willies completely, thus gaining freedom during the night, while the Dursleys were sleeping, and access to the bathroom (and refrigerator), which Vernon had overlooked. Still, Harry missed that declaration (called, formally, The Declaration of Capital Importance Against Crawly Things). It had gone like this:
1 Thou shalt not possess more than four legs at any given time.
2 Thou shalt not crawl on or touch any part of my clothes or person.
3 Crawlest thou in, crawlest thou out! None of this web-building business shall be tolerated unto thee.
4 Thy fear of the Loud, Strong Sucking Tube Plugged Unto The Wall shall remain!
5 If thou do try to hide beneath my own bed, socks, or various other paraphernalia, thou shalt perish with indeed more vigor from my motive and more screeching of my own than if thou did not surprise me, hark there!
6 If thy form is smaller than a match-head, I shall squash thee presently.
7 If thy form is fractionally larger than a match-head, I shall fetch unto thee my Loud, Strong Sucking Tube Plugged Unto The Wall.
8 If thy form is remarkably larger than a match-head, I shall flee from thee in terror.
9 Warned be thy beady faces, thy undesirable heads! Come thou into that house which does not belong to thee, comest thou never out except in the form of garbage, amongst several other discarded items!
Without those words of comfort, Harry felt unprotected from the spiders. Unknown to the Dursleys, he spent most nights on the couch in the living room after they had gone to bed as to escape the creatures.
But it was, on one unpleasant Sunday morning, that Harry was sent to his cupboard. It all went down like this.
"Sunday!" cried Uncle Vernon. "What do I love about Sundays?"
Dudley shrugged and returned to his breakfast of chocolate cereals and pastries. It was his birthday today. His only disappointment so far had been not getting to eat his cake at breakfast. Harry placed Vernon's bacon and eggs on the table and returned to the stove to cook his own breakfast.
"Because there's no post today," he answered boredly. Vernon asked this question every Sunday, and Dudley could never remember the answer. Harry found this fascinating and at the same time pathetic.
"Right you are, Harry!" Vernon replied, in a cheerful tone almost never used around his nephew. Except on Sundays.
"Where are we going today?" demanded Dudley. On every one of his birthdays, the Dursleys went out to some kind of park or zoo. Harry was left alone with Mrs. Figg, an elderly woman who lived close by and who didn't go on holidays because she didn't trust anyone else to take care of her cats. Harry didn't blame her – Mrs. Figg kept two lions and a bobcat. She had all kinds of licenses, Vernon always said. He also said her pets were the main reason that Private Drive was so heavily restricted. No one without permission could get in...and nothing without permission could get out. Vernon always said the last part in what he imagined was a spooky voice. Harry always thought he sounded like he was going to vomit, or cry. Or both. In fact, he had never quite understand the overstated privacy of Private Drive. It was private. You weren't allowed in unless you were a resident, a postal worker, or a government agent (which weren't too common in this part of England). It wasn't as if there were armed guards at street crossings.
Petunia entered the room, carrying the last of Dudley's presents.
"We're going to the zoo, Duddy Dumplings," she said, dusting off her hands.
"Ah, we'll just drop him off at Mrs. Figg's on the way, then," said Vernon, indicating Harry. Petunia looked troubled.
"I'm afraid we can't, dear," she said. "One of Mrs. Figg's cats, um...well I'm afraid one of her feet is gone. She's at the hospital."
Vernon's meaty brow creased.
"Well we can't have that," he said. "We'll have to take the boy with us."
Dudley's pudgy face screwed itself into what was supposed to be a simpering expression.
"He can't come Mummy I don't want him to come he'll run EVERYTHING don't let him come Mummy!" he cried all in one breath. Petunia rushed to her son's side with a candy, which she pushed into Dudley's mouth.
"Now now, there's my Darling Duddykins," she crooned. Harry fought back the vomit rising in his throat. Dudley spat the candy onto the carpet, a sign that meant he was truly pretending to be upset, and let out a wavering wail.
"We'll keep him away from what you're doing, Dudley," Uncle Vernon told him. "We'll make sure he doesn't cause any trouble."
With the last words Vernon turned his head to glare at Harry. "Isn't that right, boy? No...funny business?"
Harry puckered up his mouth in a mock serious expression.
"No sir," he said. "No jokes from me." Sometimes he just couldn't help it.
A raised lump of fat on Vernon's forehead suggested that somewhere down there, a vein was throbbing.
"Right, you know what I mean!" he growled. Harry nodded.
"Yes, sir."
Dudley had calmed down a bit.
"Can we go now, Mummy?" he said hopefully.
"Of course, my Duddlylumpy," she said, and with a searing look at Harry, walked Dudley out of the room. Vernon rose from his chair.
"Get on, then," he said gruffly, and followed.
Harry sighed, resolved to have as good of a time as possible at the zoo, and headed to the car.
I hope you enjoyed it! Like I said, the story does break off from the original plot eventually, and please leave a review! New chapters coming eventually (saying "soon" seems a little too hopeful for my writing habits).