CHAPTER 2

Harry Potter woke up with a start as his alarm sounded. It was 6:30: time to get up and make breakfast for his aunt, uncle and cousin. Harry was very pleased to say that at the age of 7, he was able to cook his sausage and bacon to the perfect crispiness without burning them, and leave the yolk of his eggs runny enough to dip the toast into, but not so runny that it spilled out of the shell.

He ate some toast with marmalade as he cooked, knowing that he wouldn't be invited to sit with the rest of his family as they ate. That was okay with him, because his cousin poked him with his fork when his parents weren't looking and uncle Vernon and aunt Petunia either talked about all the really boring things they had seen on the telly or took turns making fun of him.

He served the Dursley's as they sat down at the table, making sure a piping mug of black coffee was set in front of his uncle, and the pot of tea was steeping within reach of his aunt, cream and sugar at the ready. As his family ate, Harry went to work doing the dishes. He didn't pay attention to their conversation, because their conversations were almost always exceedingly boring, until he heard the dreaded name "Marge" come up. Marge was Vernon's sister, who seemed to live on breeding vicious dogs and making fun of Harry.

"Boy!" Uncle Vernon got his attention as Harry cleared his plate. He was surprised to see a sausage left over. Normally his uncle and cousin devoured any food in front of them. He supposed aunt Petunia had told uncle Vernon that he should be watching his weight again.

"Yes, uncle Vernon?" Harry replied as he moved to take Dudley's plate that looked as though he'd practically licked it clean. Dudley kicked him in the shins as he went past, almost causing him to drop the plates. Petunia scowled at Harry.

"As you know, there's a big day coming up." It was Dudley's 8th birthday tomorrow. Harry wondered what this had to do with him. Normally he was just told to spend the day in his cupboard while the rest of the family celebrated.

"Marge will be arriving for a visit in around an hour," Vernon continued. That explained why Harry had overheard her name. He suppressed the urge to shudder. "And I expect you to be on your best behaviour! That means," he dramatically raised a meaty finger, "no funny business. You will stay in your room and out of sight while she is here. You will not speak unless directly spoken to. Do I make myself very clear?"
"Yes, uncle Vernon." Harry replied. He stealthily tucked the sausage into the waistband of his pants when nobody was looking. He doubted he'd be getting dinner that night. He put away the last of the dishes, then went to his cupboard to stow away the sausage before going out to weed the garden.

Aunt Marge arrived soon after, her dog Ripper in tow. Harry hated that dog. It seemed to hate him, and tried to bite his fingers if he tried to pet it. He warily kept his fingers out of the range of Ripper's teeth when he wandered over as aunt Marge was making a fuss over Dudley. Ripper growled menacingly at him until he got close to Harry. Then, much to Harry's surprise, he stopped and instead began to snuffle around Harry's waist.

"Get over here, boy," Marge demanded by way of greeting. She eyed his dirty clothes and scruffy appearance with distaste. "I see you haven't managed to be cured of your bad breeding yet. Well, there's no helping some," Marge said. Harry glared at his feet. Talking to her usually got him in trouble, especially since she hadn't asked him a question.

"Stop wasting my time and make yourself useful," Marge declared, unhappy that she hadn't provoked a reaction. She clapped him on the shoulder harder than was strictly necessary and pushed him in the direction of her bag. Harry worked on lugging her stuff through the front door while she went into the house to accept a glass of sherry from Vernon.

As Harry struggled with the bad, Ripper continued to sniff him.

"It must be the sausage!" Harry realized. He'd never been allowed to pet any other animals, especially since aunt Petunia thought most animals (and even most humans) were disgusting creatures. She only put up with Ripper because it was Vernon's sisters', and even she had to admit that he was pretty well trained.

Harry left the bag in the front hall, knowing he wouldn't have any hope in getting it up the stairs. He got the sausage from his cupboard and was feeding bits of it to Ripper while he pet him when Marge came out to fetch another present for Dudley from her bag. When she saw Harry being friendly with her prized dog she got as red in the face as uncle Vernon did when he was really angry and started screaming that Harry was trying to poison her beloved pet.

"I warned you to be on your best behaviour, and this is what you do?!" Vernon hissed at Harry when he heard Marge's screams.

"I was just being nice to the doggy!" Harry defended himself angrily. "It's not my fault aunt Marge thought I was poisoning him!" By this point Marge had retreated into the kitchen, Ripper in tow, to fawn over him and partake in another glass of sherry to calm her nerves. Dudley had run out of the kitchen to avoid aunt Marge, who was practically in hysterics and hadn't given him the present he'd been promised.

"Get into your cupboard, NOW." Vernon ordered.

"I didn't do anything wrong!" Harry reiterated. It was the wrong thing to say. Vernon grabbed him by the shoulder that was still smarting from aunt Marge's blow just as the glass on the picture frames exploded into bits. If Harry thought uncle Vernon was mad before, this was a whole new level. The veins in his neck looked as though they would burst as Vernon practically threw Harry into his cupboard and locked the door.

A very pale Petunia came out of the kitchen just in time to see what Vernon would later describe as "the worst sort of funny business". She absentmindedly shushed Dudley, who was complaining about his lack of present, causing him to begin to throw a temper tantrum. Petunia was leading her furious husband back to the kitchen when another bang sounded as the pictures around Dudley all flew off the walls. Dudley looked surprised before he ran over to his mum:

"Harry did it!" he cried loudly. It was his favourite excuse, mostly because it almost always worked and had the benefit of getting his cousin in trouble. "He always ruins EVERYTHING!" he sobbed as Petunia looked in horror at the mess. She really hoped the neighbours hadn't heard anything...

** later that night **

Vernon and Petunia lay in their bed, unable to fall asleep. This was partly due to the loud snores of Marge echoing through the house, but mostly because what had happened earlier today had most definitely been magic.

"...Pet?" Vernon asked in the dark, uncharacteristically quietly.

"Yes, Vernon?"

"How did Harry break the pictures when he was already locked up? Was he trying to hurt Dudley? Is it...normal in that world for... y'know, that to happen from that far away?"

Petunia tried to remember whether her sister had ever influenced anything out of her immediate proximity. She didn't think so, but of course she had spent so long repressing those memories that it must be normal that she'd have a difficult time thinking of any specific incidents.

"I don't remember," she replied, somewhat truthfully. "But she must have! There's no way her useless son will be any better at...that... than she was." Her tone was bitter as she continued, "Lily was a good kid, before they got to her. Before she met that horrible Snape boy. But Harry... He seems to try to get Dudley into trouble whenever he can!"

"If that boy thinks he can get anything past us, he has another thing coming," Vernon growled menacingly. "He must not be getting the message that his freakishness will not be tolerated in this house, no sir!"

With that satisfying thought, Vernon quickly fell asleep. Petunia wasn't as relieved. How had Harry made the pictures fall? Had they been weakened somehow when he made the glass shatter? Was he really trying to hurt her precious son? She eventually fell into an uneasy sleep, hoping that Vernon's strategy would really be enough to make sure it never happened again.

Neither of them even considered the other option: it had been Dudley, not Harry, who had made the pictures fall. They had made a very conscious and unspoken decision to never mention the contents of that letter ever again after that first night. It had easily become second nature, especially as Dudley grew and showed no signs of being anything but a very normal, perfect little boy. No, there was absolutely no way that their precious son was one of them.

A/N: Sorry it's taking so long to get Harry to Hogwarts... but I've decided that the backstory happening in these chapters will be important for where I plan on taking the story. He'll be on the train by chapter 5, I promise! In other news, I'm going to try to update at least once a week - I already have the plan for the entire first year written out, so it's just a matter of bulking it up (a lot). Hope you enjoy!