As usual, for Dudley's birthday, Harry was shoved into the cupboard after breakfast was made (by him) and he was carted off to Mrs. Figg.

'Ten is a big number, and I won't have you ruining it with any of your freakishness,' Aunt Petunia said waspishly. 'If you so much as glare at by baby boy when you get back, you will wish your horrid mother and father had never had the displeasure of having you!'

After having said her piece, she slammed the front door in his face, almost smashing his nose in the process. Although this happened all the time, Harry still felt the sharp sting of tears behind his eyes.

Figuring the Dursley's wouldn't care if he actually went to Mrs. Figg's place or not, Harry headed towards the main road leading to the local library, making sure to stay behind the hedges so his aunt and uncle wouldn't see him when they drove by. He had to ignore the looks he got from wearing Dudley's humongous cast-offs when he walked through the building, as well as the glares from the neighbors that recognized him as "the criminal".

Harry walked through the dusty shelves near the history section in the very back of the library, taking in the titles on the spines of the books he could see. It was then that he saw a slight shimmer out of the corner of his eye. Turning quickly, thinking it was someone who had followed him, Harry resisted the urge to run in the opposite direction. Glancing around for possible threats, he walked towards the source of the distraction.

He watched in amazement as a whole section of library appeared out of nowhere. As he read the titles, he was sure that it was one big joke. Arithmancy and its Effects on Magic, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, Defence from a Magic Most Evil, and How Potions Can Be Used In Your Household were just some of what the spines read. Picking up a few of the titles he just read, Harry settled down for a good laugh, making sure that the isles were just as empty as they were before.

Although he couldn't understand several of the words, he had taken to using one of the unabridged dictionaries that were lying in the bottom of the history shelves, probably taken from the reference section downstairs. Slowly making his way through The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, Harry was starting to understand some of what was being said.

By the end of the day, and it was time for Harry to return, magical theory was running through his head. He had to run out of the library, barely even noticing the glares and surprised glances thrown his way, in order to make it to Mrs. Figg's front yard before his relatives did. He knew they saw him but they continued down the road, not wanting to have him sully their car with the dirt he no doubt had on him. When Harry made it home, Dudley was aching to brag about the fun things he had done on his birthday. Harry knew better than to tell anyone what he had actually done that day. Not only had he disobeyed his aunt's orders, he had spent his time reading about magic.

This continued on for weeks after school left out. Harry was locked out of the house at the beginning of the day, with expectation to come home before Dudley. (He rather thought they were hoping he would get kidnapped while he was out.) He would head to the library and make sure nobody saw him go into the secret section of magic books.

Harry continuously bounced from book to book, reading about what interested him at the time. It wasn't until he read one of the last chapters in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts that his breath caught in his throat. The chapter was called "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named".

And the first line in the chapter had his name in it. "Harry James Potter".