Chapter 1
The Dursleys and the Other One
Harry James Potter was an odd child to those who chose to carefully observe him. Dare they try understand him, all of the 'Privet Drive's Tea and Garden Association' gossip would be quickly reduced to, at least, 'misguided observations'. But there was a problem, of course: few people bothered with it.
A delinquent, a troublemaker, a thief-in-the-making even, if you believed Mrs. Polkiss tale of the 'vanishing chocolate cakes' – that was a little far-fetched even to the Association members. Really, even the boy wouldn't stoop at that low. Even the Dudley boy, an absolute unit and formidable adversary of sweetened objects, would exercise his restrain, knowing the joyful feeling of that gum-like, suspiciously spicy, chocolate 'not-chocolate-based' delicacy.
And that was it. And there wasn't anyone too keen on changing that. While being an orphan could, certainly, have gathered a little simpathy, few intended to do something more. A heartfelt 'I'm sorry for your loss, young man' to his front; a 'he's lucky to get what he's got, with his parents being such irresponsible people' to his back.
It was terrible. But it got better with time. His relatives began to just let him on his own as he got older.
But he didn't complain. Not out loud, at least. He knew there were people in the world with worse home situations than him. That didn't excuse the Dursleys, of course, but it was what the boy thought about it. He thought he had a pretty good life 'till that moment. He had a house, his own clothes, his own bedroom, and was going to a not-that-bad school next year. What more could he hope for?
But as soon as he asked that, the same image came to his mind. Their faces were blurry, but the warm feeling was there, he could feel their smiles: his mother and his father. Lily was a redhead with a round-ish face, James was black-haired, with a long nose, and a long face. He had extracted that information on the sparse times his aunt, Petunia, would sit him down on the dinner table and teach him to sew, and to calm his temper.
Those were some of the best moments on the Dursley house. Here and there, he discovered many things: that his mother had the same eyes as his, that she loved treacle tart (a dessert that became his favourite once he knew about that info), that his father had an 'insufferable' mess of a haircut and 'silly' round glasses, like the one he chose to use, since the day his aunt brought him to the oculist.
It was the first time he remembered his aunt making him choose the more expensive things. "To last a long time, you hear? I don't want to hear nothing about coming back all the way to Guildford again, do you understand?" She said on the car, oblivious to the gigantic smile that was plastered on his face.
But as soon as Dudley demanded her attention, there she was again all over him.
"Of course you can get another piece of tart, darling. Here it is." She prepared a plate for Dudley, and, then, prepared the same for Harry, deliberately cutting his part in half – in front of him, while smiling at her son, not looking to her nephew. "Here is yours."
And she went on sewing again, telling him to grab his items and go to his room, never looking at him. Harry rolled his things up and put his plate on the sink. In the living room, there was Dudley, impatiently waiting for him. Harry already knew what he was planning. Dudley was a rather sharp boy when he deemed things were of his interest, but he was also very predictable. The first time he got sad, the second he was angry; by the third time, he learned to just let it go.
"Do you want some, Harry?" Dudley asked, with a smile on his face. "I couldn't finish it."
To convincingly lie was not something Dudley knew how to correctly do it yet.
Harry wanted to just ignore him and go upstairs, but the knew it would be best to just humor him for now. "Thank you, Dudley."
And as Harry went to take the plate from his hand, already expecting his cousin to drop the plate, he was pleasantly surprised to see he did not prank him that time. Dudley was suddenly distracted, looking at the digital clock on the top shelf behind Harry. It was almost late evening. He absently passed the plate to a surprised Harry and went on the dining room.
Harry looked suspiciously at the plate, but even the spoon was on the same place his aunt left. He decided that maybe Dudley was just having one of his rare good moments. He happily took a little bite, eager to settle down on his room and appreciate it more comfortably.
As he went up the stairs, he heard voices coming from the door ajar.
"... late again? I though he said he was coming from Haslemere today."
"I'm sorry, my dear. He had a urgent problem that needs solving on Chichester, and said that he..."
The noises of their conversation were blocked by Harry closing the door. That night, he ate his treacle tart and made drawings of a group of people - the same group of people. He never drawed their faces, worried that he couldn't do justice to them, or that he would have the wrong image of them. But, sometimes, when he closed his eyes, it was almost as if he saw their clear faces.
This was what he hoped for. For a long time, he hoped someone would appear. A cool red-haired uncle, an old friend of the family, anyone. But it was not the time.
Truly, he couldn't care for the videogames Dudley had, nor the strange computer they had recently bought. What he wanted, he couldn't buy. Dudley tempted him with his toys, but what Harry really desired was a family that he could really count upon. He just felt like a stranger in the Dursley's sometimes.
He heard steps on the corridor. His uncle Vernon had arrived home. Harry could swear the car he heard was from the front neighbour.
His uncle opened Dudley's bedroom door. A long time passed. Harry looked at the old wall clock that sat upon his wardrope, noticing it was very, very late.
He had spent the whole night drawing. It was not a first, but it was a drag going through the next day tired.
He carefully and quietly placed his drawings in a wardrobe drawer, and went to bed. His uncle closed Dudley's door and was coming into his direction.
Only to not stop at his bedroom.
He took off his glasses, and made himself comfortable. As he drifted to sleep, he thought he heard his aunt scolding someone.
