Bas-relief lacing illustrated the cottage door as it flew off it's hinges, breaking from it's arch-shaped frame and slamming into the supporting wall with a hollow pound that billowed through that once safe haven. Voldemort stepped into the exposed passage, seemingly dragging in the tenebrous air with him, as a terrified young woman scrambled up the adjacent staircase. A man, whom Voldemort knew to be James Potter, attempted to protect her. His corpse just as quickly impacted the narrow oak steps with a resonant thud.

The familiar banging of a violently closed door told the intruder what he had already predicted would occur. The woman, Lily Potter, was with him, the goal, the boy... Harry Potter. Gliding gracefully through the corridor to the sound of the mother cooing comforting noises to her newborn, Voldemort mercilessly dispatched the witch. Her magic, ancient and loving, was a protective rebound charm for the boy, recognized by the Dark Lord who studied it briefly whilst dwelling in the Hogwarts library's forbidden section. It was intended to defect the killing curse. However, unlike the luckiest of his victims, Voldemort wanted Harry very much alive. The murder of the Potter female made manifest the potential for creating a new horcrux. His seventh. Voldemort met eye to eye with the body of the mother only to step over it and towards the crib where the babe lay. Innocently ignorant of the magnitude of the past few seconds, Harry looked up to see a man, older than his father, peering down at him. A slim twig of yew shot out a single verdant flame, suspended in midair in between the two wizards. A sudden flash of brilliant green filled the room. Whilst the dust began to settle, placing his bony finger upon the child's chin, trailing the flesh through touch and sight, Voldemort grinned before swooping off into a nearby forest through a window shattered during his most recent confrontation.

- " Rest for now, so my restlessness might meet it's end... " he murmured soothingly into the solitary abyss of the night before him.

- 4 years later -

Harry starred intermittently at each of the four walls in that broom closet under the stairs. The morbid poverty of his surroundings comforted the child, cradled by peeling wallpaper and shadows of the corners above his scruffy haired head. At least he wasn't out there, with the Dursleys.

- " Child minded adults with a penchant for psychological abuse and nepotism. " breathed a distant voice into the empty space of the closet.

Of course, Harry, being the rather solitary boy that he was, never spoke of these traits but felt their effects since he arrived on their doorstep four years ago. No, their imperfections were only pinpointed and explained by the Fogman, Harry's best and sole companion. The Dursleys never seemed to notice him, and when confronted by Harry whom adamantly defended his existence with as much determination as a four year old could muster, they merely dismissed it as a fantasy of an idiotic child.

- " The boy's bonkers Petunia ! No surprise, with parents like his. As high as kites they were ! Do you remember the last time we went to see them ? " Petunia pulled a copy of Dragons, fairies and ogres, a guide to muggle misconceptions or how to avoid a bloody brutal death from her crayon-scraped cherry wood bookshelf, all the way at the bottom, concealed by a gaudy ceramic pug. She held it up to her husband, Vernon, and through mocking laughter managed to say :

- " Yes, I remember... What a riot ! Dragons ? Fairies ? Bloomin' twits. "

- " I'm hungry ! " moaned the Dudley Vernon, Harry's contemporary, age-wise at least.

- " Do fry up some grub dear. " asked Vernon nonchalantly.

- " Ok, I'll do us some bacon and eggs. " replied Petunia, hiding the book once again then pressing her nose lovingly against her son's, reciprocated with a Harry could smell the bacon with it's smokey meat tones wafting into closet through the vent in the door. He knew Petunia would fetch him for his breakfast when they had finished their meal and plated up the leftovers, but knowing no different this didn't bother Harry.

- " Why should they get to eat first ", whispered a ghostly voice into Harry's ear," you're greater than them, stronger, and yet they command you're every action. You already know they're leaving you out, that you're not equals. Not family. "

- " But they'll ground me if I'm naughty... " Harry's sentence trailed off into the memory of him having spilt a glass of grape juice on Petunia's then new angora wool sweater, responded by a livid look plastered on her reddening face and Vernon's meaty grasp throwing him in the closet for two days without food and drink. He was three years old at the time.

- " Don't you wish you could punish them as they do you ? When a person is bad, that person needs to be punished, after all. It's only fair. "

- " No, they're adults, children don't punish their parents. You're silly ! " giggled the boy, responding despite not knowing what some of the words meant. But the Fogman knew nervousness and anger, and could sense it in the childish quips, so he continued to push the issue at hand.

- " What if I told you that you're special ? That with just a flick of a hand and a well placed word you could fly or fight a monster a hundred times your size ? Because you are. You could do those things and more... so much more, if you simply tried. Why should they get to eat first ? " Under the guise of the child friendly Fogman, Voldemort was using his charm to attempt to sway to boy to his way of thinking, tempting him to give in to his tightly bottled temper.

The boy didn't answer. Gradually the noises of the Dursleys became heavily dampened, drowned out by an almost tangible concentration.

Woosh ! The flames sprang up into the air above the pan where the bacon was cooking. Petunia yelped and jumped back, turning towards the fire extinguisher suspended behind her, but when she turned back around the flames had disappeared, leaving only the charred bacon and eggs. Vernon heard the scream and stampeded in the open kitchen to see what had caused the disarray of his spouse.

- " The fat must have caught ablaze... " mused Petunia, an obvious air of pensive skepticism lining her usually shrill voice as she looked onwards to the closet.

Then she saw it. A pair of thin black irises intently staring back at her through the grating of the vent, lit up by the morning light passing through the opaque glass of the front door. Harry's eyes were a bright green. Against her better judgement she pounced on the closet door, those hateful eyes never looking away, opening it only to find Harry laying on his bed looking up at her. For the first time in his life with the Dursleys, Harry was served at the same time as everyone else.