Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belong to J K Rowling. Everything J K Rowling recognizes belong to J K Rowling. Everything belonging to J K Rowling belongs to J K Rowling. Everything else ... probably belongs to me then.
Prologue:
"James, dear! You know Harry isn't allowed in here!"
Pause.
"James! James!"
Pause.
"James Potter! Come here and get your son away from here right this instance! My experiments are dangerous!"
"James where are yo- NO HARRY NO DON'T-"
"Harry here seems completely healthy; his magical core is stable, he has no physical injuries... the accident doesn't seem to have injured him in anyway."
"But Albus ... what if-"
"Lily, honey, we've been over this already. If Albus think he's fine, then he's fine."
"But-"
"No buts, Lily, our Harry's fine and you need to stop blaming yourself for it."
"I guess..."
"Perhaps a lemon drop would help, my girl?"
Pause.
"No? Why do no one wants them these days... Anyway, it looks like Voldemort is on the move again. For Harry's sake I suggest living under a Fidelius Charm..."
"Are you sure to leave him there, Albus? I've been observing them and they seem to be the worst sort of muggles."
"Minerva dear, he needs to be under the blood protection as there may be Death Eaters still about. Besides, they're family, they'll look after Harry..."
"But surely we can take him in as a ward of Hogwarts? He'll be perfectly safe here too."
"Ah but Harry here would need to grow up normally, away from all the fame. The Dursley's is the best place for little Harry."
"Freak! Clean the house! You're old enough to start earning your stay here!" a large whale of man bellowed at a four years old raven-haired boy, shoving a bucket and mop into his hands.
"Yes Uncle Vernon."
Harry Potter is intelligent for his age despite having been locked in a cupboard under the stairs for the past two years. One would expect him to be as stupid as his cousin, Dudley, who is still unable to form the speech of a sentence. His intelligence is explained by the large number of books that are in said cupboard, books that are old and dusty, long forgotten by the TV-addicted members of the residence.
Most children would have ignored the weird squibbles covering sheets of bound paper, favouring toys and other more exciting entertainment. But a child locked with nothing to do managed to figure out the meaning behind such squibbles, along with the help of dangling on he door handle to peek at the TV through the keyhole.
Taking the bucket and mop, Harry stumbled across the kitchen floor to the garage, where he was able to fill up the bucket with soap and water. Harry was barely able to drag the bucket back into the kitchen, where, after wetting the mop, he began cleaning.
A few moments later, having cleaned the kitchen, Harry proceeds to drag the bucket into the hallway, when...
There was water everywhere.
Dudley, having just crashed into Harry, was sitting in the puddle, crying.
Even though he knew that Dudley was the one who ran into him, Harry, knew, at that point, that he was in trouble... deep trouble.
Loud, thundering footsteps echoed down the hallway.
"BOY! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!"
A large hand, raised, ready to strike at the innocent black haired boy, moments from swinging down.
"Please, I don't want to get hit... please..." Harry silently prayed.
A small, tingling sensation filled his body, coming from somewhere within him, somewhere out of reach.
Harry's green eyes turned golden for a fraction of a second.
Tick.
A car engine, outside, starting.
A bird chirping a tune.
A fly, flying past his eyes.
Tock.
The radio, announcing its channel.
Dudley hiccups in between his sobs.
Petunia comes into vision, rushing at Dudley.
After what seems like an eternity, the hand came down and hit the boy's head, hard.
Tick.
The small, tingling sensation disappeared. Harry saw his uncle, hand rasied, ready to strike him.
He heard, again, a car engine starting... and a bird chriping... and saw a fly flying past his eyes.
The radio announces its channel, Dudley hiccups, Petunia is coming...
He knew what is going to happen next.
He ducked.
Vernon's hand went above his head, brushing against his thick hair, missing by millimeters.
Harry suddenly became very tired... so very tired...
He collapsed and knew no more.
