Progenis Mater

Pilot Chapter

By: Saadie

Summary: Yet another "Harry-has-other-living-relatives" story, only not magical relatives, we've done that to death. This is a story of Harry and his life if his rather distant and curious muggle relatives had intervened.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I'm pretty sure you can tell by the dismal Latin in the title. I swear I'll get the fixed just as soon as I get back to residence and can corner my friend who's taking the aforementioned language. Eventually.

Standard A/N: None of my stories are beta-d, I'm not actively looking but if anyone ever offers :). Until then, ya'll just have to put up with my atrocious grammar!

"And stay in there until you learn what's good for you, you little freak!"

Petunia slammed the door to the cupboard underneath the stairs with her pale, bony hand as hard as she dared to without risking any chips or breakage to her newly manicured red nails. "Honestly," she muttered to herself as she stormed towards the kitchen, "that little freak can't even wash the dishes properly. Broke that saucer clean in two with his useless fumbling! I have half a mind to make him clean it but he cuts himself and gets any of his freak blood on my carpet, why, that stuff will never come out!"

With that thought in mind, Petunia hurried to wrap up the broken pieces of the saucer in yesterday's newspaper before depositing it in the waste bin, all the while careful not to cut her fingers on any sharp edges. She squinted watery blue eyes as she craned her long neck to inspect the floor; if there were any stray pieces that were left that might cut her precious little Dudders, why then, she'd make sure that freak paid the price tenfold. When she could find none, she nodded to herself, satisfied with her work and set out to make herself a nice cup of tea.

Harry waited until the footsteps of his aunt's angry stomping had stopped for at least five minutes before he uncurled himself from the fetal position he had assumed the moment Aunt Petunia had shoved him into the cupboard. The light of the afternoon sun was still filtering into the cupboard through cracks opposite of the sun room so Harry opted not to turn on the light bulb – he knew Uncle Vernon wouldn't replace it for weeks and that light bulb was his only source of light.

Ever so slowly, Harry reached underneath the battered cot he laid upon, shifted slightly every now and then so the book clasped between his fingers could slip free noiselessly and without cutting his fingers. It was a much abused copy, Dudley's copy really, of The Little Prince. Dudley had never read it but used it to build ramps for his racecars which resulted in the many rips and tears on both the front cover and back. Squinting, Harry opened the book and, gingerly positioned it under a sliver of light, began to read, tugging at his fringe absentmindedly. The words weren't that hard, though there were still many beyond his rather limited six year-old vocabulary, and the story was interesting even if a bit confusing for Harry. He wished he could be like the Little Prince and travel away from the Dursleys, far, far away from his cupboard and to his own planet. In fact, Harry was so engrossed in the book that he startled at the sound of the doorbell ringing.

Petunia was on her second cup of tea and halfway through a buttered scone when the doorbell rang, echoing through the front foyer. All thoughts of calling Mrs. Polkiss to arrange a play-date for Piers and Dudley flew out of her mind as she rose slowly, placing the teacup onto its saucer with her pinky cushioning the cup and muting any noise just as her mother had taught her any lady would do. She made her way to the door, walking leisurely at the sight of a woman's silhouette in the window; it was most likely just Mrs. Prentice from down the street coming to borrow some sugar or share some recipe she had found.

Briefly, her thoughts moved to the boy as she passed the cupboard under the stairs and she doubled-back quickly, rapping sharply on the door. "You keep quiet boy. If anyone hears you there'll be no dinner for you tonight, you hear me?"

A muffled, "Yes, Aunt Petunia," filtered through the cupboard door.

Satisfied with the boy's subdued tone and certain that her threat was enough to keep the boy in line, Petunia turned back to the task at hand, quickening her pace to make up for her little detour. "Yes, yes, I'm coming!" she called; that ought to keep Mrs. Prentice from complaining of her manners to any of the other neighbours.

Reaching the front door, she pulled it upon, a practiced smile pasted on her bony face. A smile that slid off before she could control herself as she drew back, half in shock and half in suspicion as she took in the face in front of her. Words slipped out before she could stop them.

The doorbell was followed by the light screeching of a chair pushed back and the familiar footsteps of his aunt. As quickly as he dared, Harry shoved the book underneath his cot, nearly snagging his nail on a stray spring, before flattening himself on his blanket.

The footsteps drew closer, almost seeming to pass him before there was a pause and then a series of sharp knocks resounded in his tiny cupboard. "You keep quiet boy," came Aunt Petunia's shrill tones in a harsh whisper, "If anyone hears you there'll be no dinner for you tonight, you hear me?"

Knowing that she wanted a reply, Harry was quick to whisper his understanding as quietly as possible so she wouldn't get mad at him for being too loud or something and take away his dinner anyways. Either way, his answer must have satisfied her because the next thing he knew, the footsteps were moving away from him again and he could heard his Aunt calling out in a fake polite voice to whomever was at the door. He kept quiet, listening as the locks were turned and the door swung open to admit the sounds of birds chirping. Harry smiled at the melodious tunes; he had always liked birds.

He frowned when he realized his Aunt hadn't greeted the other person properly. Before he could speculate as to why that was, Aunt Petunia's voice could be heard in a shocked whisper that had Harry pressing his eye against one of the cracks to see who it was at the door.

"What are you doing here?"

AN: Wow it' really been a while since I've written everything and quite a while since I took everything down and yes this first chapter is really short! I spent the first half of my first year in university ignoring my plot bunnies in hopes that I could successfully focus in school. Needless to say, it didn't work and I'm back again! I hope you guys enjoyed this new piece though and that it wasn't too much of a disappointment. It's a new bunny that's taken to gnawing on my brain and so I decided to give things a try. As you may have noticed, this is labeled a Pilot chapter. This is just in case the bunny was temporary and takes off on me after one chapter or that you all read this and realized it was hideous and flames me half to death. In either of those cases, I'll most likely remove this piece or just leave it hanging. Depends on how lazy I feel.

Anyways, thanks for taking the time to read this and as always, please do review. Criticism, constructive preferably, flames, hopefully now, just dropping a line, whatever. Reviews are addicting. Like cookies. Or ice-cream. Or chocolate. Or chocolate cookies smothered in ice-cream.

Ever yours,

Saadie

Note: If I stopped making sense at any point of my ANs or just writing in general, I blame university. It does that to you.