AN: I am terribly sorry for my cut off! I had planned on having this story up by the next day or two, but instead some really frustrating setbacks happened. Mainly, I moved down to Texas for a few months, and while there I didn't have any access to a computer, in order to work on my story for you all. Once I get this second chapter up, I should hopefully have a much more stable pace of updates for you all. Moving on, here's your second chapter, and at the bottom I'll answer a few of your reviews. Enjoy!
A little boy was sitting inside a small room, hardly big enough for what its purpose was, which was to be his bedroom. The boy was four years old, and despite being so, was not where he should have been in terms of intelligence, nor physically, such as walking. Now, this wasn't because he was a stupid baby, nor a lazy one, nothing of that sort, but another reason. Quite simply, he wasn't taught how to do any of the stuff that a child should have been by that point. This young boy was Harry Potter, and he lived with his relatives, the Dursley's, which were the cause of his stunted growth.
They knew of his magical heritage, and resented him for it. As such they failed to properly care for him and help raise him as they should have done, causing poor Harry to have to teach himself. Considering his difficult situation, he was quite smart, having taught himself how to walk, talk, and was in the process of teaching himself how to read and write. His motivation to teach himself like he did, to try and be smart, was one that should be quite easily understood, considering one that was his age. Quite simply, he wanted acceptance; he wanted the Dursley's to accept him, to love him, to be proud of him for being a good, smart, hard working boy.
It was a natural response from a young child, especially one being neglected by the only people that they had, family or otherwise. But young Harry was disappointed time and again as he was always rejected and ignored by his family, his accomplishments given no value, and his efforts turned a blind eye to. But, adamant that he was, the young Wizard-to-be refused to accept that his pursuit for their love was only to ever end in vain. He could not, after all, tell how the future would work out, now could he? That was impossible, well beyond the power of any living person, wasn't it?
For all the sense in the world that he knew, that any muggle knew, it was, and even if he had the mental capacity in order to further think it, he wouldn't. Science was science, not that he knew what that was, and as he once heard a two-legged bunny say on the noise box, 'Eh, what's up doc?'. He wasn't sure at all what that meant, but it sounded funny, and it made him smile, so he liked it. Happy things were difficult for him to find in his young life, so he would take whatever he could get, and make due with it, which was a pretty smart thing to do. Out of nowhere, a thought made itself known in his mind, an idea to try and make his family happy with him, and with no small burst of excitement he bounced out of bed and swung his door halfway open, popping his head out to check for his aunt and uncle.
Seeing nothing, a soft giggle escaped his mouth as he managed to sneak into the kitchen, tiptoeing in order to make less noise. Surprisingly, or maybe not depending on how you looked at it, he was very nimble and silent on his feet, due to his small build, and his malnutrition. Very carefully, young Harry began moving chairs around in the kitchen, placing them where he would need them. Climbing onto the chairs, he used them in order to reach the counters and shelves, and the higher spots in the fridge. His idea was to cook breakfast for his aunt, uncle, and cousin, so that they would see how useful he was.
See that he was a good, thoughtful boy, that they could be proud of. Determined, he grabbed the carton of eggs, a pack of bacon, and some butter. After watching his aunt cook enough times, he had learned the basics of how to make this simple breakfast, and set to work. Turning on the stove, he buttered a pan and set it on the cooking circle. He cracked the eggs one by one, dropping them into the pan, and then added as many strips of bacon as he could fit.
Happy with his success so far, he suppressed a giggle of happiness and settled with a bright smile. He made sure to shift around the bacon and eggs, getting them properly cooked and warmed on all sides. Though fidgeting around, wanting to move, he stayed vigilant and didn't leave the cooking breakfast. Soon enough, they were done, and he rummaged through the drawers until he found a spatula. Next, he climbed onto the counter and got the plates from the cupboard.
As carefully and quickly as he could, he scooped the eggs and bacon onto the plates, then carried them one by one to the table, and placed them. Rushing back to the stove, he turned it off and placed the pan into the sink. Almost done, he climbed onto the counter again and got down a few cups, took them to the table, and then got orange juice out of the fridge so he could fill the cups. Now, all he had left to do was make toast, and get the jam out to smear it on. After that, he could head upstairs to wake his aunt and uncle for breakfast, and hopefully they would be proud of him.
Ever adamant, he got out the bread and brought it to the toaster, before moving to the fridge and getting out the jam. Taking it to the table, he opened a drawer and got out one of the long spoons that he saw his aunt use. Stuff ready, he sat and waited for the toaster to pop up the bread, so that he could get them and bring them to the table. When it finished, he did just that, and struggled to open the jar of jam. After a few minutes, he managed to pop the lid off, and carefully scooped out a good glob for each slice of bread.
Giddy with excitement, the kind of excitement that only a hopeful young child could feel, he cleaned up any mess he had made and set up each plate and glass of juice, before hurrying up the stairs. He quietly opened the door to his aunt and uncles room, stepping inside, and walked over to the bed. His uncle was sleeping face-down, an arm hung over the edge, and Harry gently tapped him on the arm a few times. Grunting, the large man woke up and opened his eyes, seeing the small boy gazing at him with a nervous smile. Irritable, he made no effort to prop himself up, but managed to maintain a decently calm tone when he spoke.
"What is it, boy? Did you wet the bed?"
"No, Unc' Vern." Harry answered, giving a shake of his head, his excitement not dimming. "I made brekfis."
That got him to sit up, and his first thought was the state of the kitchen. But, the boy was clean, which made him feel optimistic. As much as he could, in any case. Still, he had to be sure that his house wasn't about to burn down. Turning his attention back to the boy, he spoke slowly, making sure that his nephew understood.
"Did you make a mess in the kitchen?"
Harry squirmed a little, thinking of the bread crumbs and orange juice that he spilled on the table. "Small. But I cleaned." He admitted, before insisting that he had fixed it.
Withholding judgement until he saw it, he dismissed Harry after telling him to wake his cousin. Watching the boy leave, he woke his wife Petunia, and informed her of what he had just been told. Soon, the three Dursley's were awake, dressed, and down in the kitchen, while a hopeful Harry stood to the side and watched. They saw that their kitchen was, in fact, not destroyed, and was actually perfectly clean. That set them at ease.
All that was left was the food he had made, and they acknowledged with no small amount of surprise that it was well prepared. The bacon wasn't too crunchy, the eggs were evenly cooked, and the toast wasn't burnt. Shocked into silence, the adults turned to stare at the boy, who squirmed under their gaze. Had he done something wrong? He was confident that he had made it right.
Finally, his uncle spoke, setting him at ease. "Good job, Harry. Good boy."
That brought a huge smile to his face, and he felt the vague sensation of something huge, immeasurable even, shifting. The odd sensation was easily brushed aside and ignored by the ecstatic little boy, who was basking in the achievement of earning their acknowledgement. That was only increased when his aunt scraped some of her food onto a fourth plate, and lifted him into his own seat so that he could eat with them. He could barely stay still, so great was his glee, and he was very careful to mind his manners and eat properly, not wanting to ruin it by making a mess. Things had taken an unexpected turn for the little boy, and he had high hopes for the future now that he had proven himself to his family.
This is the first chapter, officially. Time to answer some reviews!
NorthSouthGorem: Happy?
dalulzing: It clearly says at the top that it's a Prologue.
Tahari: Well, I never stated that the bike belonged to Hagrid. Merely that it was parked outside for him to use.
Elemental Flash: 1: She was hoping to knock him off his feet, in order to hit him with a stronger spell before he landed, or allow James to hit him with one. 2: It was intentional. I wanted to display Voldemort as being more determined and quick to achieve his goals in my version.
son of wind: Sorry about that. I believe this chapter should have been more to your liking, if you read it.
mahadx: ... What?
wbreeck: During the long delay, I certainly did read a lot of it. I'm nearly caught up.
Vallavarayan: Nah, I don't think so. I think it's dead. *kicks it* Poor thing.
NaruHarem4ever: I checked a site for all of the spells, to confirm the usage. Fairly sure Confringo is a fire spell. But, the site may have been wrong. Dunno.
hattuteline: Well, it did say at the top that this is a Prologue chapter. It's intended to show the very beginning of the Harry Potter storyline, and how things have been altered already. This chapter is to show how his life has been changed already. Like or dislike, I shall continue whenever I have the whim.
LoganAlexander: Wow. This chapter must be like a huge middle finger in your face.
the DragonBard: My story says otherwise.
4everfictional: Why thank you. I apologize for the long wait. Hopefully you see this new chapter.
Edward95: Thank you. Maybe it wasn't soon, but here;s that update.
firelordeg: Eh. I like to be a detailed writer. If there isn't a certain amount of words, I'm unhappy with the time I spent writing.
xxxrae97xxx: Maybe you'll like this chapter better, then.
taking it easy: Well, writers block is like a bitch of an itch on your balls. With arms too short to scratch. But maybe I'll have a better muse, now.
Alucard-Masters: Well, here's one more chapter for you.
And there you have it! So, what change in the timeline will occur next? Who the fuck knows, because I sure don't! Hopefully I'll figure it out soon, but until then, take care!