Harry Potter and the Orphan's Tale
Long ago, Lord Voldemort attempted to kill a baby, but vanished instead, leaving a piece of himself living in the boy. Harry Potter was sent to live with his relatives, but the Dursley's were not sufficient in caring for him and he was sent to an orphanage. There are similarities between the two, and with the influence of the dark lord inside him, they continue to grow.
Since his entrance, he has cast three spells: a simple unlocking spell, and two killing curses.
The first had opened the door to the house, granting him access to the people within. They hadn't noticed his entrance until it was already too late.
The first killing curse was used on the male who died without a wand in hand and lay sprawled on the staircase. The Dark Lord precariously stepped over him and climbed the stairs to the second floor.
The woman who had fled upon his arrival was just ahead. She had foolishly thought her husband's sacrifice would grant her enough time to flee. Her thoughts were evidently wrong.
He approached her from behind while she stood leaning over a crib. Another killing curse was thrown at her back and her scream echoed through the house as she collapsed on the ground.
The Dark Lord was, in fact, happy.
Everything was going according to plan with no difficulties whatsoever. Even the atmosphere of the house seemed to darken with the deaths of its inhabitants.
Light streamed in through the window, full moon held high in the sky, directly onto the face of the child.
He was simply an innocent, exposed to the dangers of the world too early. But too early would he be removed from the world of danger.
The Dark Lord, making eye contact with the green eyed boy, raised his wand once more and prepared himself for the last death. His hand slipped into a hidden pocket of his cloak, finding a gold clip in the shape of a lion that once belonged to Godric Gryffindor.
The moon was at its peak, and he was ready to perform the last ceremony that would create his seventh. But fate would not have it.
He whispered the spell, and when the two words, "Avada Kedavra" left his mouth, magic happened. But not his own. The spell lit up the room and the child's green eyes glowed brightly.
The Dark Lord was thrown backwards and willowed away into a heap of dust, which floated towards the boy as he inhaled.
xxx
November 1, 1985
The Dursley's were a very proud family, priding themselves on their income, home and family. However, they were a very noisy sort of people, they could never keep out of their neighbors' businesses.
As a result, they are either eating at their neighbors' houses, or their neighbors are eating at theirs.
Petunia Dursley was a scrawny woman. Her arms and legs were like twigs with veins protruding to just below the skin. Her bony hips stuck out at awkward angles but didn't seem capable of bumping into anything as she pranced around a room. But her long neck resembled a peacock, which easily allowed her to poke her head over fences to eavesdrop on her neighbors for their gossip, and quite frankly her nose fit the appearance of the bird as well.
At the moment, Petunia wasn't peeking her head around at her neighbors, instead she was sitting politely in the dining room with her legs folded elegantly underneath the table, her hands crossed and, above all, her back ramrod straight.
Her attention was taken by a wretched young boy standing a little ways away in her kitchen. He was pouring pasta into a boiling pot of water to cook. She had been paying attention since the second he stepped into the kitchen in order to take her mind off her nerves.
That night, the owner of a company would be entering her home to make a deal with her husband. The contract would arguably be the greatest thing to happen to her husband's business, and she would not let anything ruin the night. She would, especially, make sure the boy in front of her does not ruin the coming night.
Her face twitched as she watched the boy let a single piece of pasta drop from the empty package onto the counter. She reined in her temper as he dutifully threw the dirtied noodle into the compost before returning to his work. Petunia would like nothing more than to throw him into his closet and continue the job properly herself, but she did not enjoy cooking and knew it would put her in a bad mood, so instead she continued to watch.
For the next twenty minutes Petunia observed the boy; he had cooked the pasta, melted a cheese sauce, then layered a pan with cheese and noodles, and set it inside the oven to be cooked. Through the procession of this, Petunia's face twitched multiple times at every clang and item dropped.
She let out a breath she had hardly been holding at the realization that he was done. He would not be needed for the rest of this evening as she would don an apron in front of her guests. Without being told to, the boy started on cleaning the dishes, and Petunia, realizing there was nothing left for him to mess up, got up to leave the room.
"When you have finished cleaning the dishes you dirtied, get outside and tend my garden." Petunia snapped.
She then left the room and headed up the stairs to prepare herself and look presentable for her guests.
xxx
Harry Potter was only 5 years old. He had been living with his aunt and uncle, who had so graciously accepted him into their home when his parents died in a car crash, for 4 years. Even though Harry might not have liked them, he didn't despise them, they were the only family he had left. They fed him, clothed him and sheltered him, what more could he ask for? Although Harry would admit, he could do without the beatings but he understood they only happened when he was at fault.
His cousin Dudley was the golden child. He never got hit because he was always on his best behavior, and Harry wished he could be more like Dudley. One day, when Harry had finished his chores early, he followed Dudley around for the rest of the evening and imitated everything he did. However he must've done something wrong because his uncle had beaten him and told him to stop acting like a freak. So Harry had returned to acting as himself and now tries to understand his mistakes when he is punished.
Thankfully, today had been a good day. Harry had only been swatted a couple times upside the head whenever he touched something he knows he not supposed to, like the table the blue vase sits on. He didn't even get hit when he dropped a raw noodle on the counter while cooking.
To keep up his streak of good behavior he had dutifully retrieved his shoes from the front hall closet and stepped outside the front door. Sitting down on the ground, and avoiding the nice chairs, he pulled on his small sneakers that Dudley had given him a year back. They were too tight on him, and often left him with blisters or red marks, but they were the only ones he had. Their age showed through the rips and tears along the sides of them. And his toes would soon be poking out of the worn tip.
Despite their current condition, Harry would not ask for a new pair, he did not want to seem rude or ungrateful. So he would remain content with the pair he had.
After standing up, he walked around the side of the house towards the back where he knew the garden would look the worst.
Upon his arrival in the backyard, Harry's suspicions were confirmed.
The large tree looming at the side of the yard had shed its leaves and they were scattered about the yard. Not to mention the few weeds that had decided to sprout up in the cool weather.
At the back of the yard was a small shed that Harry was used to entering despite it having multiple spider webs and dead bugs lying about. He retrieved a rake and got to work on the lawn. To Harry it seemed to take hours to complete with his feet throbbing in his shoes and the autumn wind biting at the back of his threadbare back.
When he had piled the leaves he went in search of a garbage bag to scoop them in. It didn't take long to find as he knew where they were since every Thursday he had to take the trash out. He twisted the opening of the bag and threw it up on his shoulders and made his way towards the garage. Due to his short height, the filled end of the bag bounced against his heels and the ground as he walked. Harry just hoped that it would not catch on anything and spill its contents.
His luck held true, and Harry was able to hoist the bag into a garbage bin and leave the garage.
He hurried to the shed once more with his feet aching at every step. With equipment in hand, he got to work on the weeds. Although there weren't many and it didn't take long, it was still hard work.
Stooping over the plants on his knees, he was able to rid himself on the pain in his ankles, but a new sort of pain arose. The exposure to a long time bending over caused the muscles in his back to cramp. And soon Harry realized that he much preferred the raking.
But he would not complain, instead he pushed himself through the work with thoughts on his daily meal afterwards.
With the thought of food, he managed to get the job done extremely quickly. It had seemed as though weeds would disappear before he even came close to some of them. It was like magic.
Harry wouldn't tell anyone of this, he always got in trouble when he said the M word.
With his work finished, he quickly put the tools away, dusted himself off and made his way to the front door.
He lightly pushed it open, leaving only enough room for him to squeeze through and minimize the cold air entering the house.
"There will be no funny business, no funny business at all. Do you hear me boy?"
"Yes sir." Harry answered his uncle who had been standing nearest the door in a suit and tie.
"We will be picking up our guests and driving by my building before coming here for dinner." Vernon said to his family, and pointing a finger at Harry, "Where will you be?"
Harry knew his answer, it was always the same, "I will be in my room, making no noise and pretending I don't exist."
He slipped his shoes off and made to head up the stairs but was stopped. His uncle had grabbed him by the arm and hit the back of his head.
His uncle snarled at him, "Do not track dirt through my house."
Harry looked down at his feet and saw that he had unknowingly been doing just that. Fear started to sink into Harry's mind as he recognized his uncle's anger with the idea of his house being messy with guests around. His eyes quickly flickered between his uncle and the ground until he finally decided that he would immediately clean it up to reduce his punishment.
When he was closer to the ground he noticed something strange happening. The dirt was slowly disappearing, and within seconds was gone completely. It seemed as though it was never there.
Now Harry was terrified, he feared even looking up at his uncle, but he did so anyway.
His uncle's mouth was hanging open in a wide O, and his eyebrow were raised supremely high. A quick glance at Dudley and Petunia proved that they looked the same.
Vernon was the first to recover from the surprise and seized Harry.
"Look at the time! Vernon we do not want to be late picking them up!" Squeaked Petunia.
This had quite the effect on Vernon as he quickly marched Harry up the stairs to his room. He threw the door open and shoved Harry inside who bumped his head on the shelf within.
"Not a word from you." Vernon slammed the door shut and locked it with key hidden beneath his shirt.
Harry could hear his footsteps as he trudged down the stairs. As well as the front door opening and closing, then being locked.
It wasn't till he was certain that he was alone, that Harry finally let out his breath.