Harry Potter was having a bad day. It wasn't just the fact that he would have to do several hard chores today. Nor that he would probably have to run away from Dudley and his gang so that they couldn't play their favorite past-time Harry Hunting.

No it was the knowledge that Aunt Marge and her favorite bulldog Ripper were due to arrive later in the day and that made the day all more the worse to face.

Harry's bad day all started when Dudley woke-up before him. Dudley decided that Harry looked too hot under the worn blanket, that would, most likely, be too small in the very near future, so that's why Dudley walked into the kitchen and filled a large cup to the rim with very cold water and then proceeded to drench Harry with it as a wake-up call.

He woke with a start, understandable considering the circumstances, and shook his head that would make a dog proud and surveyed the damage that had been done. He was dismayed to see the pictures he'd doodled in the past and his good marks from school that were pinned close to the mattress were in ruins.

His Aunt Petunia had eventually come around to see the misadventure and had given Harry a harsh tongue-lashing for his "clumsiness" and for having water in his cupboard when he well knew that it was not permitted for there to be any drink or food in his "room", and then plainly ignored Harry's insistence that it wasn't him but that it had been Dudley all along.

But her not listening to him didn't surprise him in the least, because there were two things that were well known facts in the Dursley home. The first was to place blame on Dudley was never to be true, and the second was that all things gone wrong were automatically placed on Harry's head, because no matter what the evidence showed or the straightforward truth staring them in the face would be disregarded as untrue and left for naught.

Harry had had to clean up the spilt water in his cupboard, and have his fit of temper in silence at the injustice of it all, because no one ever listened to him that was just how life at the Dursleys went.

The awful morning was attributed to Dudley and his stupid prank. And that was the reason why he, Harry, was found to be in the back sitting on the trunk of the big beech tree and out of harms way, but staying away from the Dursleys to imagine and daydream of another life, a life full of love. But his musings were interrupted when an unfriendly voice sounded from inside the house.

Harry immediately recognized Uncle Vernon's boisterous tone.

"Boy, get in here and finish the job list I assigned you this morning, and you have a lot to do before I go and collect Marge, so hurry up and get in here"

Harry stood up and swiftly strode into Vernon and Petunia Dursley's highly polished and spotless kitchen and was met with a long list of jobs that were shoved into his line of vision.

Harry took the proffered paper and read down the list of the projects needing to be done by him, and him alone.

1. Wash the car - I will be leaving soon, so do this one first, or else

2.Weed the gardens - both front and backyard

3. Clean out Dudley's second bedroom

4. Make sure your cupboard is properly taken care of and the junk disposed of

5. Pick-up the guest room and check the floor for any clutter…

6…
Harry looked up from the list of duties and grimaced into the face of Uncle Vernon, and saw smug satisfaction in the older man's expression that gave off a sour taste in Harry's mouth. He took a deep breath and folded the paper and put it in his back pocket for safekeeping.

Nine year-old Harry Potter got to work and started with washing his Uncle's business car and ended several long hours later with the watering of all the plant life on Number 4 privet Drive. The most unpleasant part of the day was having to tread lightly around Aunt Marge and her dog Ripper that had come to visit for the week, but day wasn't over for him, unfortunately it would get a lot worst before it got anywhere close to better.

He was, at the moment, taking a nice rest in the shade of the tree that stood solidly in the backyard after finishing his long list of chores he'd had to do. Well, at least all the Dursleys' are comfortable and content in the house, and better yet not in the company of me! Harry thought happily. But even as the thought crossed his mind did the Dursleys' decided to make their presents known, and the first to immerge from the house was his 'dear' cousin Dudley with a cruel hungry expression on his face that always meant pain and humiliation for Harry.

Harry turned around and scowled at the direction of the back door of the house when Aunt Marge spoke to him saying, "What, boy, are you doing outside all alone without the permission nor consult from your Aunt and Uncle, who are no less than saints for dealing with the likes of you. You ungrateful little freeloader, taking the money from your hardworking Uncle without so much as a thank you, while you sit out here idly dallying your time on nothing." Harry bit the inside of his cheek, to refrain with difficulty, to say what was exactly on his mind. If a freeloader meant that a person would be worked to the bone, never getting clothing that actually fit, and only getting enough substance to get by but never more than that, so that the person is left never being satisfied and always hungry afterwards. If that was the definition then yes was Harry was a freeloader. But if it meant that he, Harry, was living off of the Dursley's charity without so much as lifting up a finger, then no that wasn't Harry in any sense of the word.

"Well, are you going to speak, you untamable beast?" said Marge, watching closely for any reaction from Harry and wasn't disappointed when she noticed his struggle for control of his emotions on his face."

"It didn't occur to me that I would have to ask for permission to simply sit in the backyard, of which house I currently am a resident of." said Harry through clenched teeth.

"Yes, I can surely see as much," taunted Marge. "but Dudley here, he's a good little neffy-poo asking his mum and dad to go and play with his scrawny excuse of a cousin."

Harry hurriedly backed away from Aunt Marge not wanting to play with Dudley in the least, and to his dismay, he tromped right onto Ripper's tail, who had some how managed to sneak behind Harry unnoticed, which was of course a bed idea. The vicious bulldog barked menacing and then proceeded to chase Harry around the house and yard, while he absent-mindedly heard Dudley comment how this entertainment was more fun then actually doing the chasing himself with his gang, and the uproar of laughter at Harry's own expense.

Harry's heart pumped loudly in his ears and the adrenaline coursed through his body like nothing else, but he didn't have the energy to think about the verbal abuse, the only thoughts were of the irate animal behind him. After a quarter of an hour playing keep-away Harry took a running leap and jumped onto the trunk of the Dursley's large tree and tried to stay away from the livid dog.

Harry's eyes stung with unshed tears from the effort of holding himself up high in the tree and the hurt from listening to the raucous laughter down below him, but he quickly blocked the sound out by climbing higher into the tree and away from the negative energy that surged from beneath him. Not long after the Dursleys' migrated back into the house did Ripper follow his master for evening tea in the parlor.

Harry cautiously climbed down from the beech tree not wanting to be savaged by Ripper after all he'd gone through to prevent bodily-harm, it would be waste to give it all up because of carelessness. When the surrounding area was quite deserted for several minutes Harry blew out a relieved sigh and shook out the stiffness that had settled into his sore and tired limbs. He crept carefully to the back door and quietly opened the door, paused in front of the parlor door to listen for the confirmation that all were in the room, before he slinked into his cupboard and lay tiredly onto his dilapidated mattress that resided on the hard floor.

Harry thought of the life he could have had if it were not for his parents dying in the car crash and that he could have lived away from the Dursleys, but it didn't do well to think of the possibilities all the time. But he couldn't help himself from straining his mind trying to find some… no… any memory of his parents. Were they good loving people? Did he look most like his dad, or did he look like his mum? Did he have his mother's nose? Would they still love me after I didn't do something they asked me to? Would I actually have clothes that would fit me properly? Many more questions ran through Harry's mind but none of them answered or helped him in any way.

Harry thought hard on the last memory that he could remember, he recalled there was a flash of green light and horrendous pain on his forehead and he decided that was probably when his parents died in the car crash, but he couldn't think of how or what the bright light was. The memory slowly drifted from his mind as he though more on what had transpired earlier that day, and the pain he felt as he was ridiculed and belittled, but the worst was the isolation and seclusion he felt all the time in his little cupboard alienated from the world.