1Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, Chapter 2

Disclaimer: It's not mine – you know what I mean…

Note from the Author: The Harry Potter books I have – except the last one – are in Spanish, so the extracts aren't exactly like the real English book…

Approximately ten years had passed since the day when the Dursley had woken up and found their nephew at the door of their entrance, but Privet Drive hadn't really changed. The sun elevated over the same little gardens, illuminated the brass number 4 over the Dursley's door and advanced into their living room, that was nearly exactly the same as the one where Mr. Dursley had heard the ominous news about the owls, that night ten years ago. Only the pictures on the mantelpiece were testimony of how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there was a great amount of portraits of what looked like a great pink ball with caps of different colors, but Dudley Dursley was not a little child anymore, and in that moment the pictures showed a big blond boy riding his first bike, in a merry-go-round at the fair, playing with his dad at the computer, kissed and embraced by his mom... the room did not give signs that another boy lived there.

However, Harry Potter was still there, sleeping at that instant, although he would be woken up in any moment now. His Aunt Petunia had woken up and her high-pitched voice was the first sound in the day.

"Wake up! Get up! Now!"

Harry woke up startled. His aunt called at the door again.

"Up you get!" she shouted again. Harry heard her step in direction to the kitchen. The boy turned around and tried to remember the dream he have had. It had been really nice. There was a motorcycle that could fly. He had the curious sensation that he had dreamt this previously.

His aunt came back to the door.

"Are you up already?" she wanted to know.

"Nearly" replied Harry.

"Well, get going, I want you to keep an eye on the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn. I want everything to be perfect on the birthday of my Duddy."

Harry groaned.

"What did you say?" she yelled with rage from the other side of the door.

"Nothing, nothing..."

Dudley's birthday... how could he ever forget? Harry got up slowly and started to look for his socks. He found a pair of them under his bed and, after taking a spider out of one of them, because the cupboard that was under the stairs was full of them, and there was where he slept.

When he was dressed he got out to the corridor and entered the kitchen. The table was mostly covered with the birthday presents for Dudley. It seemed like Dudley was getting the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second TV and the racing bike. The exact reason for which Dudley would like to have a bike was a mystery to Harry, because Dudley was really fat and didn't like exercise, except if it involved punching someone, of course. Dudley's favorite boxing bag was Harry, but he usually couldn't catch him. Even if it didn't seem like it, Harry was really fast.

Maybe it had something to do with living in the dark cupboard, but Harry had always been thin and too short for his age. Apart from that, he looked much tinier than what he really was, because all the clothing that he wore was Dudley's old clothes, and his cousin was four times bigger than he was. Harry had a thin face, bony legs, black hair and bright green eyes. He wore round glasses always stuck with sticky tape, consequence of all the times Dudley had hit him in the nose. The only thing that Harry likened was his peculiar little scar on his forehead, with the shape of a lightning flash. He had it since he could remember, and the first thing he could remember asking his Aunt Petunia was how he had it.

"The car accident where your parents died," she had said. "And don't ask any more questions."

'Don't ask anymore questions': that was the first rule that he had to keep if he still wanted to live a calm life with the Dursley.

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen when Harry was turning the bacon around.

"Brush your hair!" he barked as a morning greeting.

Once every week, uncle Vernon would look over the newspaper and would shout that Harry needed a haircut. They had cut Harry's hair more times than any other kid in his class altogether, but it wasn't any use, because his hair kept on growing in the same manner, on every side. Harry was frying the eggs when Dudley came into the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked very much like uncle Vernon. He had a big pink face, not much neck, and an abundant blond hair that covered his fat head. Aunt Petunia said occasionally that Dudley looked like a little angel. Harry said occasionally that Dudley looked like a pig with a wig.

When he was little, Harry would dream time and time again that some unknown relative would come and get him out of there, but it never happened: the Dursley were the only family he had left. But sometimes he thought - maybe it was more of an idea - that there were strangers that behaved as if they knew him. They were really weird strangers. A man with a purple hat had greeted him, when he was shopping with aunt Petunia and Dudley. After asking him enraged if he knew that man, aunt Petunia would take them out of the shop without buying anything. An elderly woman with an extravagant look, wearing everything green, had greeted him too happily in a bus. A bold man, with a long coat, of a purplish color, had shook his hand in the streets and walked off without saying a word. What was the weirdest thing about all of those people was the way they seemed to disappear at the instant Harry tried to get near them.

In school, Harry did not have any friends. Everyone knew that Dudley's group hated that strange Harry Potter, with his old clothes and his broken glasses, and no one liked to be against Dudley's band.

Long boring beginning! Because I know every single one of you has already read that, and will never read it again, because it would be plagiarism to what J. K. Rowling has written.

But poor Harry! J. K. Rowling has tortured him with such fate. He is hated by his own uncle, aunt and cousin, who have his own bully bunch of friends who threaten anyone who tries to befriend Harry. But...

What if… Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia saw having Harry in the family as an opportunity to wipe out the Potter's existence by pretending Harry was their child? What if they treated him fairly and equally as Dudley?

Approximately ten years had passed since the day when the Dursley had woken up and found their nephew at the door of their entrance, but Privet Drive hadn't really changed. The sun elevated over the same little gardens, illuminated the brass number 4 over the Dursley's door and advanced into their living room, that was nearly exactly the same as the one where Mr. Dursley had heard the ominous news about the owls, that night ten years ago. Only the pictures on the mantelpiece were testimony of how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there was a great amount of portraits of what looked like a great pink with caps of different colors, but Dudley Dursley was not a little child anymore, and in that moment the pictures showed a big blond boy riding his first bike, in a merry-go-round at the fair, playing with his dad at the computer, kissed and embraced by his mom… all accompanied by another thinner boy, who looked back at the camera and putting his arm around his cousin's shoulders.

Harry Potter had grown with the Dursley believing them to be his parents for the past ten years and was still there, sleeping in that instant. His 'mom' Petunia entered the room and her sweet motherly voice was the first sound of the day.

"Wake up, my little Harry."

Harry stirred in his sleep, turning around giving his back to his aunt without paying her mind. She shook him.

"Up you get," she sweetly repeated. Harry opened his eyes and saw his mom's loving face smiling back at him. He smiled back at her and tried to remember the dream he have had. It had been so absurd. There was a motorcycle that could fly. He had the curious sensation that he had dreamt this previously.

His mom caressed his cheek.

"How was your night?" she wanted to know.

"Pretty weird," replied Harry.

"Well, we better get going, we need to prepare breakfast. We're having bacon today. I need you to help me keep an eye on it. I want everything perfect on the birthday of your brother."

Harry nodded.

"Ready to go down to the kitchen?" she asked as she got out of the room.

"Nearly…"

Dudley's birthday… how could he ever forget? Harry got up rapidly and started to change. He got out of his pajamas and pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt from the floor, because the room was really messy: all clothes on the floor, posters of his favorite football team all in a pile on a corner in wait to be hanged on the wall, his bed unmade. That was his bedroom.

When he was dressed he got down the stairs to the corridor and entered the kitchen. The table was mostly covered with the birthday presents for Dudley. It seemed like Dudley was getting the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second TV and the racing bike. The exact reason for which Dudley would like to have a bike was a mystery to Harry, because Dudley was really fat and didn't like exercise, except if it involved punching someone, of course. Harry was the one who would run to catch the victim for Dudley and their friends, because he was the only boy in the group who made any exercise at all. Even if it didn't seem like it, Harry was really fast.

Maybe it skipped a generation, to have an athlete in the family, and Harry had always been thin and short for his age. He thought it came from his mother's side of the family – Petunia's side – now that his mom was thin like him. Harry had a thin face, bony legs, black hair and bright green eyes. He wore black framed round glasses. The only thing that Harry hated was his peculiar little scar, with the shape of a lightning flash. He had it since he could remember, and the first thing he could remember asking his mom was how he had it.

"It's a birth mark," she had said uncomfortably. "Don't ask that again."

'Don't ask that again': that was a rule for him, and he kept it because he knew it made his mom upset to remember about that birth mark.

'Dad' Vernon entered the kitchen when Harry was turning the bacon around.

He patted his head amiably as a morning greeting.

Everyday his dad would never look at him in the eye but would always pat him in the head as an affectionate gesture. Harry knew though, that his dad did love him, because he would nod at him as a gesture of his love for him. Harry was frying the eggs when Dudley came into the kitchen with their mom. Dudley looked very much like dad. He had a big pink face, not much neck, and an abundant blond hair that covered his fat head. Mom said occasionally that Dudley looked like a little angel. Harry said to himself occasionally that Dudley looked like a pig with a wig.

Even though he hanged around Dudley around, but he didn't like him that much, he was a conceited spoilt pig, but it didn't matter: the Dursley were the only family he would love. But sometimes he thought – maybe it was more of an idea – that there were strangers that behaved as if they knew him. They were really weird strangers. A man with a purple hat had greeted him, when he was shopping with mom and Dudley. After asking him upset if he knew the man, mom would take them out of the shop away from the man without buying anything. An elderly woman with an extravagant look, wearing everything green, had greeted him too happily in a bus. A bold man, with a long coat, of a purplish color, had shook his hand in the streets and walked off without saying a word. He thought them odd, and he didn't care much about why they would do that. Mom and dad would just ignore them and look at them down, and he would do just that.

In school, Harry did not have any friends. He said this because he didn't consider Dudley's group to be his friends, he was only Dudley's henchman. Harry Potter, Dudley's henchman, the fast boy who would run to get a victim for him. But no one liked to be against Dudley's band, and less did Harry like that.

Because Harry was with the Dursley for a long time, he believes all the magic thing and impossible things absurd, and when he is sent the letter, he opens it when no one is looking, but thinks it's just a joke from his 'friends'. He doesn't learn in Hogwarts and then Voldemort takes over the world. A bit of a cliché, but it is something that could have happened. But he is still a good boy in the inside, because it's in his real mom's side of the family – even though Petunia is in her family.

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