Dear Nobody,
Today was my Un-birthday Party. That's what I call it because it's not really a day to celebrate my birth, not to mention that the Dursleys never bothered to have a party for the likes of me before. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, especially, felt that they had more than done their familial duty to me by providing a roof over my head (that is to say, the roof of the cupboard under the stairs); clothes (Dudley's castaways, of course); and food (only table scraps for the Freak, usually a slice of toast and a glass of water, sometimes I get bits of rasher if I can sneak it off Dudley's plate).
They treated me the same as every other day; they let me out to make breakfast, for which they'd criticize but still stuff into their mouths, the goddamn hypocrites; I'd do some chores before school and spend the whole day trying to hide/run from Dudley and his friends, which they lovingly called 'Harry Hunting'; more chores afterschool and dinner; then there was the much anticipated—I do hope you can recognize sarcasm—and highly dubious 'present' of a pair of Dudley's old Gym socks and a pence. I'd thank them for the wonderful present, of course.
If I didn't, the birthday punches would be more like a pounding. As it was, I could never completely regain the use of my right arm even the next day. Which did not endear me to them at all, as my eggs always came out a bit burnt the morning after.
And that's it. Well, except for that. But that only happened if Uncle Vernon had had a particularly bad holiday weekend at Grunnings and drank too much. Then…well, it's a good thing I'm a Freak, otherwise I'd most likely not survive the night—bleeding to death, you know.
From the Freak, sometimes called Boy whose name is Harry
#4 Privet Drive, Surrey
Cupboard under the Stairs
31st of July, 1988
AN: So, for a 'lil bit I'm probably gonna be writing in this format, closely mimicking a diary or letter. This is to speed up the pace somewhat and to gain insight into his character and the gradual change in his mindset. You should already be able to tell by now that he is old enough to realize the Dursleys are not as 'Normal' as he has been taught they are; he knows they are cruel and even admits that an Orphanage might not be so bad if it's no better than his current living situation. And, you can see hints of considering that perhaps it is the other way around, that perhaps, it is they who are the true 'Freaks' and not him.