Book One

On a foggy summer night, we see a large, seemingly giant figure in a small suburban neighborhood. With him, a basket containing a treasure so great, you would understand the great care he took with it.

With a sob, he placed the package on a doorstep numbered 4, and ran back to his motorcycle, driving into the night. What was in the basket you ask? The only hope of the entire Wizarding World, from a danger far greater than anyone else could handle. The secret weapon took a deep breath of the warm humid summer air, and cried.

We cut to 11 years later, and Harry is under the cupboard again. The question is how did he get here, yet again?

Truthfully, how he got here isn't a mystery, he's always in here after being abused by Dudley as him and his gang run around playing "Hunt Harry" repeatedly until his borderline malnourished frame is exhausted.

Like most days, he's forced to come back to the house and deal with Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia telling him what a mistake he is. Sadly all this is just another regular summer day for poor Harry Potter a.k.a. The-Boy-Who-Lived.

Not that he knows anything about that yet anyway. Nobody knows what happened to the Boy-Who-Lived and why is he in this muggle household being mistreated. Well that's all about to change for the better as the mailman drops off a special, slightly green, manila letter with the junk mail. As Harry sorts through the Burger King ads, the monthly National Geographic subscription, and a water bill, he finds a letter addressed to him.

'To Harry Potter, in the Cupboard Under the Stairs' in emerald ink reads the front of the letter.

Why would anybody be writing to him?

He's nobody special, just an orphan whose parents died in the car crash . He decides not to open the letter immediately and instead hides it in his oversized clothes, Dudley's hand-me-downs or course, and gives the rest to Uncle Vernon.

As usual he went out to get the mail right after breakfast, which is his job not because Aunt Petulia can't, but Harry's role in this house is to stay out of the way, do chores, and to not be so "freakish".

So here we are after Dudley and Vernon's respective 5 eggs, 4 slices of bacon and 2 slices of toast, 6 eggs, 5 pieces of bacon and 4 slices of toast. Add a tall glass of orange juice and it's not a wonder that both the men in Harry's life are Dudley alomostclinically obese.

Already on his second helping, Vernon points out "Hey, how come you haven't eaten Freak? Make something for yourself."

To which Harry mutters under his breath "I haven't made anything because you ate it all ." Vernon squints "You making fun of me boy? Don't make me beat you with the belt again." Harry squirms and replies "No sir, my mistake," and scampers off. Oh how he hates his family.

As you can tell Harry has no other positive figure in his life. Vernon spends his time showering his affection on Dudley, Petunia, despite being his mother's sister, seems to treat him less than dirt. This might come from the fact that Petunia internally believes that she was never as good as her late sister.

Either way, Harry makes his way into the tiny cupboard that he called home for the past 11 years. Why he was forced to sleep under the stairs while Dudley has an entire bedroom for his toys was a question he liked to ask himself, but the cruelty of it all fit into this Hell House perfectly.

The one upside to the situation was that nobody wants to come in, probably because they couldn't fit, but it's still his own little space to do whatever he wants.

Birthday wishes, prayers for help to his mom and dad, a whopping £13 and 70 pence, and more. It is here that he begins to open the wonderfully strange letter that's addressed to him. He doesn't know what this letter entails, he doesn't know that this letter will change the entire course of his life, it's just an oddity like him.

Still Harry's heart is pounding in his chest as he unfolds the first half of his first letter. If he gets caught with his letter, it could be disastrous, as the Dusleys didn't approve of him owning things. He quickly skims the letter, which talked about Wizards, a school named Hogwarts .

Harry wonders why someone would send him something about a prestigious school, his grades aren't all that great. Regardless, there is that voice in his head, which says "The only reason you don't do well in school, is to not piss off the Dursley's by letting Dudley be better in school".

But how could a letter know that? The answer is, it can't, so this must all be a joke, he thinks to himself as he finishes the letter.

It sounds magical, no pun intended, to be accepted in such a school. After all, as abused like he is, not believing in a little bit of magic would drive anyone insane. Dismissing the idea he rants, "Why am I even thinking about this, it would only hurt more not being able to go" . The realistic part of him, honed and hardened by years of being let down, understands that this is trash, this isn't anything special, wizardry isn't even real.

To stop himself from thinking about the subject anymore, he whipped out the Zippo lighter he found a while ago, and burned it to ashes. Laying down for a quick nap before being called to do chores, he akwardly lies on his thin mattress and closes his eyes with a sodt smile on his face. Unknown to him, his lighter flicked on and off repeatedly with a golden-green flame, before closing the lid on its' own. It was a nice idea, but Harry Potter was definitely not a wizard. .

11th Year Anniversary

4 Privet Drive

July 20th, 1991