For as long as Harry Potter was alive, all he could remember was being sick. When he was a mere three years old, he could recall staying in bed with the highest of fevers. With each year, he progressively got worse. He caught sicknesses so easily that he stayed at home more than he did at school, but that didn't deter him from catching up. His uncle, Vernon, would always mutter about how useless he was and what a nuisance he was. His aunt, Petunia, took care of him every single time. This only made him more determined. He wanted to prove himself; not only to his uncle, but his aunt too, that he could surpass their expectations.
Harry had a cousin named Dudley. He didn't see him much because of his bedridden state but he could tell that Dudley didn't think much of him. Dudley would sometimes stare at him in fear, for what though, Harry could imagine.
Today however, was different for Harry. Today he went to school, learnt new things and he returned home like a normal child. Harry Potter was not bedridden and for that, he was grateful.
As for tomorrow? Who knows? Maybe tomorrow wouldn't be normal.