Author's Note: Crestoflight3 here. Hi. Chances are you haven't read my stories...I haven't written for Harry Potter a lot since starting almost a year ago. However, with the last movie coming out in just a few days...it feels right to start uploading this.

Summary: A collection of random one-shots involving major and minor characters involved in the Harry Potter series...some will be serious, others comedic, depending on the circumstances involved.

Disclaimer: Despite having two initials shared with J.K. Rowling, I am not her, therefore I have no right to her work. All writing on this site is for nonprofit, using it as a source to share stories with other aspiring writers...that sounds nice and proper, yeah?

Before Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.

It was nighttime. The moonlight shone through an open curtain in the small bedroom in Number Four, Privet Drive. Mrs. Dursley entered the room, a loving smile on her face as she led a small boy to his bed.

"Now, then, Duddykins, it's time for beddy-bye! Off to sleep!"

The boy rubbed his eyes with a slightly pudgy hand. "No! No sleeping! Video games…"

"Now, Dudley, it's bedtime. You can continue on your game in the morning…"

"No! I'm…" His statement was interrupted by a long yawn. "…not tired. See? I'm wide awake!" The five-year old smiled drowsily and made for the door.

Petunia grabbed at him before he could leave. "No, you have to get some rest. Auntie Margie is coming tomorrow, and you need your sleep so you can show off to her!"

"Tomorrow's my party!" the boy had responded, jumping up and down, his feet barely leaving the floor.

His mother had smiled. "Yes, dearest. Your fifth birthday party! My, my, you're becoming so grown up!"

"Can I stay up later, then?"

Petunia had shaken her head and helped him onto his bed. "How about a story to help you fall asleep?"

The boy had clapped his hands.

In another room, another little boy clapped his hands together. Harry had stepped out of his cupboard and crept up the stairs, into Dudley's spare room of used toys. Despite his young age, it was already littered with broken fares—teething rings, plastic chunks torn out, lay piled in a corner; a collection of toy animals that had never caught Harry's cousin's attention in another. A few empty bottles that the boy had not allowed to be taken away were scattered all over, and in the center was a pyramid of building blocks, created by Harry after Dudley's tower had first fallen over a week ago.

The smaller child was leaning against the wall to Dudley's bedroom, waiting for the story to begin.

The rustle of covers came first as Aunt Petunia tucked her son into his bed. "Once upon a time, there was a…"

"A magic land!" Dudley interrupted excitingly.

Mrs. Dursley cleared her throat with a rasp. "No, dearest, not a magic land. That's not real."

"But…" Harry said from his side of the wall.

Dudley had a similar reaction to his cousin. "But…it's a story. It doesn't have to be real..."

"Dearest," Petunia replied, swallowing deeply, "magic is impossible. Let's try this again, shall we?"

Harry listened in, hoping Dudley would argue. If he argued enough, she'd have to give in.

However, he must have nodded, albeit unwillingly, for his mother continued, "Once upon a time, there was a banker, who saved his money and didn't spend needlessly. One day…"

Without staying for the rest of the story, Harry crept out of the spare bedroom-turned-storage room and back to his 'room.' One day, he'd find a way to hear a story about magic…

About six years later, a giant would come knocking on the door to a cottage on an island and change his life forever with stories of magic.