Harry Potter, and the Philanderer's a Stoner.
Number four, Privet Drive has always been normal, the Dursleys made sure of it; every tiny bit of oddity is abhorred, punished and moulded into rigidity. Twelve years old Harry Potter knew this best. Harry had just turned twelve a few days ago, and this was his worst birthday. Ron and Hermione said they were going to write to him, but the number of owl posts Harry had received was as many as the total IQ points of the three Dursleys.
'Perhaps my best friends just didn't remember my birthday', Harry thought depressingly. 'Perhaps they didn't remember I existed'.
Harry tried desperately to fill up his time and to distract his mind from the thoughts of being dejected by the friends he had snuck around the corridors of Hogwarts with. For the past-ten years, doing nothing seemed easier than it was now, for Harry had recently known about the wonder of the magical world and every inch of him wanted to break free, free from his insignificance in this small, quiet street and into the world where he belonged.
As Harry gazed into nothingness, in the direction where his pristine Hogwarts, A History sat, he heard a cracking sound similar to that of the casting of a spell, followed by the shatter of glass. Harry stood up and walked to the window, peering out into the dark window of his neighbour's house where the sound seemed to have come from. Then, there it was again, a yellow light beamed out of the dark room, and more glass shattered. Are wizards duelling in that house? That cannot be, as the yellow light appeared only from the same spot. Besides, there can't be that many wizards around here, can there? Harry, for the first time in that week, felt cheerful – he was in the presence of something magical. Harry needed to find out what all the commotion was, but there was no way for him to sneak out of the house. Uncle Vernon had locked the bedroom door every night– obviously a simple spell could do but he could not risk getting expelled for performing underage magic. Another option was through the window, but Harry will have to jump down ten metres with no way back into his room. Worse, he could get severely injured or killed if he landed wrongly, which Hermione reminded him in his head that it was worse than being expelled. Defeated, Harry lay in his bed restlessly, tossing and turning until he drifted off into an uneasy sleep.