"Boy, get up!" yelled Aunt Petunia.
Harry woke with a start as Aunt Petunia rapped her knuckles loudly against the cupboard door. It was the beginning of summer. Aunt Marge was coming to visit for a whole week. She would have her nasty bulldog Ripper with her. Harry wasn't looking forward to it.
Harry put on his glasses and got up. He was a nine year old boy with no friends. He was a nine year old boy who had nothing but misery for company.
"Boy, finish cooking the breakfast," Uncle Vernon snarled.
He was sat at the kitchen table, morning newspaper in his fat hands and a steaming mug of tea on the table in front of him. He grunted his disapproval at something he'd read as he turned the page.
Harry went over to the stove where eggs and bacon were already cooking in a frying pan. As he turned over the bacon he fantasized about a life if he'd had two loving and caring parents. Parents who would let him sleep in until at least nine thirty. Parents who wouldn't make him finish cooking breakfast.
Harry placed the plates of eggs and bacon on the table and sat down. He'd just prepared a plate for himself when Dudley entered the kitchen and took it from him. As usual Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon turned a blind eye. Aunt Petunia gave Dudley another helping of bacon, cooing about how he needed the nutrition if he wanted to be big and healthy just like his father. They didn't even leave remnants for Harry to eat. So he went outside and sat down on the grass.
He was so hungry. He would rather be eating a whole cow right now than to be starving to death.
Although death had to better than this life, Harry thought miserably as he watched Uncle Vernon leave to collect Aunt Marge from the train station.