Harry was nervous, and it more than just his worry at riding a train on his own for the first time. Harry Potter was a wizard, a famous wizard. One that had defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort as a baby and was the only survivor of an attack that killed both of his parents, earning him the title The Boy Who Lived. Everybody in the wizarding world knew of him, knew his name and knew his deeds, and Harry himself had only discovered all of this that very morning.
That the Dursleys had dragged across the country to hide in a Hut on a Rock in the ocean had been a surprise. As was the giant man Hagrid who tore the hut's door off its hinges and informed Harry of his true status as a famous wizard. Hagrid had barged into Harry's life and thrown it into welcome chaos, literally taking him and sailing away from the Dursleys and their definitions of normal. He introduced Harry to the wizarding world and they shopped for supplies for the magical school Harry would be attending. Then Hagrid had put him on a train back to the Dursleys and disappeared.
Harry Potter, newly discovered wizard, was terrified. The Dursleys were going to be furious, his mind went over possible outcomes of their reunion, most of which involved his uncle's fist in some manner. Harry's shoulders hunched even further, practically hiding himself in the piles of packages wrapped in paper and twine. He was so focused on his awaiting punishment that he almost missed his stop. Swearing under his breath, he rushed out of the carriage dragging his purchases behind him. The snowy owl was not pleased with his haphazard handling of her and screeched her displeasure loudly until Harry left the station. Not that Harry payed her much attention, consumed by his thoughts, Harry didn't remember much of the journey back to Number Four. He wanted to stop, to go back to Diagon Alley, to have Hagrid by his side when he encountered the Dursleys again, pink umbrella at the ready. But Hagrid had left, and the door to Number Four was right in front of him. Harry took a deep breath, and then opened the door.
Harry's return didn't go as bad as he'd anticipated. In all honesty, Harry had expected his uncle to resemble a purple walrus, tusks bared and standing in the entrance way just waiting for Harry's return from the other 'freaks'. But uncle Vernon was not standing on the other side of the door, his hands ready to seize his shirt collar and drag him inside. Nor was Aunt Petunia hissing about the neighbours seeing her husband's rough treatment of him, caring more about her perfect image than for Harry's well-being. Even Dudley's piggish self was absent, although Harry wouldn't have minded getting another glimpse of him. He wanted to know if the tail had disappeared or better yet, if the transformation had progressed further. Not that there was much left to do, all Dudley had been missing was the curly tail. However, instead of his relatives Harry was confronted with an empty hall. He edged forwards and froze when parchment crinkled under his feet. Harry looked down and realised that the hall was still carpeted in letters addressed to Mr H. Potter. The Hogwarts coat of arms also stared up at him and Harry wished with that he was already at the school rather than at Number Four.
Still the letters offered him some hope. Despite foisting most of the household chores on Harry, Aunt Petunia would not have allowed the letters to remain in her normal house. She'd have bundled them into the fireplace and burned them with extreme prejudice. Harry still had some time before they returned. When they did get back he would only have a month to endure until he was free from the Dursleys, learning magic at a magical school with freaks like him, or rather with wizards like him. If to be a muggle was to be the Dursleys version of normal Harry would much rather be a freak, a person with magic. Harry flinched then frowned at himself for that instinctive reaction. He hasn't even said the m– word out loud and he was already ducking for cover. He couldn't keep doing that when he went to his new school, he'd be a laughing stock. He would have to train himself to be more comfortable with his new situation, but he would start when he got to Hogwarts, bringing his new life to Number Four just seemed wrong, and dangerous.
Harry looked to his trunk, packages and owl, and frowned. The Dursleys would never accept such freaky stuff into their house when they barely tolerated him. Aunt Petunia had refused to even have a common broomstick in the house. Harry remembered that Mrs Number Eleven gifted her one during a garden party years before. He'd been surprised when Aunt Petunia's face looked like she'd swallowed a lemon, as she was normally much better at hiding her distaste in public. It was only now that he realised it had probably taken all her self-control not to drop the broomstick as if it was a live snake. Instead she'd just thanked the woman politely before hiding it in the garden shed. Uncle Vernon had later snapped it and used it to light the fire place.
It wouldn't surprise Harry if they tried to burn his school supplies as well. The thought of his new wand snapping in half over his uncle's knee terrified him. He could practically hear the snapping sound and echoing through the walls of Number Four, taking his chance at a new life with it. Hogwarts would kick him out if he didn't have anything, a wizard needed their wand to do proper magic otherwise they weren't a wizard.
The best defence against the Dursleys retribution was to keep anything freaky out if their sight. If Harry was out of the house, the Dursleys generally forgot about him. Getting out of the house worked even better than being locked in the cupboard, after all, the Dursleys didn't have to feed him when he wasn't there. His first thought was to put his school supplies in his bedroom. Except for the one time when uncle Vernon had him move into it, the other Dursleys avoided it. However, Harry only got the room because the Dursleys were trying to keep the wizarding world from him. Now that he knew about it they might move him back to his cupboard, especially if Dudley kicked another tantrum.
His next thought was to use his cupboard, he'd lived in it for ten years and it was only going to be for a month. But Harry dismissed that option as well. Uncle Vernon had added a deadlock to his cupboard after finding out he could pick basic locks and Harry didn't know where he hid the key. Then Harry had another thought, he could hide his stuff in the garden shed. The structure was tiny and filled with garden equipment that only Harry used. Every garden competition the Dursleys had won, was from Harry's labour. He was pretty sure that uncle Vernon had never picked up a rake in his life.
The sound of a car passing prompted Harry into action, the shed was perfect for his needs but he had to finish stowing his supplies before the Dursleys returned. Harry seized his trunk and owl, jostling the cage, and she screeched at the indignation. Harry muttered a quick apology. As he charged down the hallway, Harry's steps kicked up a storm of letters behind him, however a carpet of letters is not the steadiest of footholds and Harry's feet slid out from underneath him and sent him crashing to the floor in the dining room. With a clatter, the owl's cage door burst open and his new pet fled her confines hooting loudly. Snowy feathers scattered through the room and a few owl pellets went flying across the dining table.
Harry froze in reflex. He slowly let out a breath he didn't realise he was holding when the anticipated blow never arrived. He gathered his scattered packages and trunk but the snowy owl refused to get back in her cage, she just stared at him scornfully then flew off to nap on top of the television. Wisely, Harry decided not to irritate the female any further, and picked up her cage instead. He crossed the lawn and stuffed all his equipment in the garden shed, a quick check of the skies prompted Harry to dig out an old tarp to cover his belongings. The garden shed was sturdy but it always leaked, no matter what he did to repair it.
With his belongings, as safe as he could manage, Harry hurried back into the house. The snowy owl was still on top of the television and Harry swore she expelled another owl pellet. Harry decided to clean the Dursley residence. He knew he would have to do it later anyway and it would be best to avoid irritating the Dursleys as much as humanly possible. Preferably by minimising the wizardly presence in the house, such as the letters and the owl feathers, and the owl and an actual wizard…
"Oh hell," said Harry face went pale, "uncle Vernon's going to lose it."
That thought had Harry delving into a cleaning frenzy. The letters and feathers were swept up and placed in the outside bin. Remnants of the Dursleys last breakfast were disposed of and the plates cleaned. Harry even discovered a newspaper covered in marmalade for some reason. His owl still refused to remove herself from the television and Harry was beginning to wonder if she was his owl or if he was her wizard. He'd overheard someone on the telly claiming that women were the dominating force on the planet, and the snowy owl seemed to be proving them right.
Tired from his cleaning spree and utterly exhausted after the revelations over the past few days Harry collapsed onto the couch. A rare treat as he was normally chased off the furniture to do chores or for the crime of 'contaminating a family atmosphere with his freakish self.' Harry's eyes slid shut as he contemplated just how much his world had changed in the last 24 hours. Just that morning he'd been woken up by a giant man knocking the door off its hinges, to tell him that he, just Harry, was a wizard. A wand waving, broom riding magical wizard. Happy eleventh birthday indeed. His world was utterly changed, he'd discovered that this world wasn't even his, that the place where he belonged was not Number Four Private Drive but the wizarding world of magical Britain. It was little wonder the Durselys had hated him, to them he was a threat to their normal, boring lives.
When were the Dursleys getting back anyway? Harry thought they would have returned hours ago. The Hut on the Rock wasn't exactly a luxury hotel, he couldn't imagine the Dursleys staying there any longer than they absolutely had to.
Moments later, the walls of the Dursley residence were graced with the ringing sound of hysterical laughter. In her garden, Mrs Number Two attempted to crane her stubby neck over the fence but her short stature betrayed her. Even her little spyhole failed as it only afforded a view into her neighbour's garden and not the house.
Within Number Four, Harry's bout of laughter finally tapered off. Lips still twitching slightly, Harry raided the fridge and bread drawer to prepare a gourmet sandwich and a full glass of chocolate milk. The Dursleys wouldn't be arriving anytime soon, they were probably fighting hunger pangs and Dudley's wails. After all, you couldn't leave a hut on a rock in the ocean when someone else had taken the only boat to shore. Another spurt of laughter slipped past his control before he could stifle it. They'd be back eventually, the old man uncle Vernon rented the boat from knew they were there. He'd get them out. Maybe.