Harry is used to the unusual. From wind swirling around him in the most inopportune times (in the middle of the kitchen while cooking for his family, the Dursley's, breakfast) to turning his old grey shirt bright blue, this six year old was used to it.
He even had a word for it; freak. He thought it is quite funny the word, and looked forward to these events, despite a quick time out following them. The timeouts can be annoying, even humiliating, but these events are what perks up his days.
This event is no different. It starts with him sitting in his cupboard under the stairs, where he sleeps at Privet drive. The house is certainly large enough to fit multiple bedrooms. And this family did not lack in space. It is after all only Harry's aunt, Petunia, uncle, Vernon, and cousin, Dudley.
But sitting in his makeshift cot, a strange pain gripped his forwhead. It seemed to be coming from his stomach, but clearly in his head.
A pulsating sensation from his heart, and Harry tugged.
Harry then feels like a sliver slowly peeling across his nerves, like it is going under his nails. Falling on the ground, his scar starts to bleed, and dark clouds surround his head. Scaly wings flutter by in the clouds, and before Harry knows it a sliver of his soul slices off of him, into the scar; twice.
Falling from the scar is one, then another, thick black clouds surrounding a small mammalian bundle.
Peaking closer at the clouds, the black wanes to grey and the smoke starts to dissapate, with the shadow of damaged wings hovering away, and in front of Harry, on top of the sheets, are two little babies. Weighing less than a pound each, Harry could touch them with his fingers, nodding and prodding them. One is a boy, and the other is a girl. Both had flat black hair.
Then the baby girl opened her mouth, and a small scream went out. This is followed by the baby boy.
The muffled screaming only lasted for several minutes before his aunt, Aunt Petunia, knocked on the door. Rap. Rap. Rap, went the knocking on the door.
"What are you doing in there" asked his aunt.
Harry is busy trying to warm up the babies, and did not seem to know what to do.
Looking at the door, Harry answered "brace yourself, Aunt Petunia, something happened again."
Aunt Petunia took a step back from the door. Now not even wanting to open it, but as the saying goes, curiousity kiilled the cat.
Aunt Petunia unlocked the door and opened it. The site of the two babies and a bloody Harry did not go well for her. A more delicate woman would have fainted, but this is Aunt Petunia.
"What. Have. You. Done."
Tired and very confused, Harry responded "I don't know, they just popped out of my head."
Petunia looked even closer, and there behind the drying blood, the scar is gone. His forhead is now just drying blood over smooth skin.
Uncle Vernon happened to walk across this scene, taking in Petunia's stone cold expression and Harry's bloody mess.
"Well, the orphanage is always open. Should we make an appointment or just drop him off."
Snarling, Aunt Petunia turned around "not with those two babies".
"Babies" repeats Vernon with his eyes widening open.
"But that is not such a bad idea." Grabbing the two bundles, she picks them up and goes straight outside to the car. "Don't wait up for me" screeched Aunt Petunia.
It was several long hours of waiting before Aunt Petunia arrived. Harry had cleaned himself up again and found himself grounded in his cupboard.
Hearing the sound of the car park in the garage, Harry perked his ears against the door.
Hearing the front door open, Aunt Petunia made her way up the hall, where she is greeted by Uncle Vernon.
"Well" he muttered.
"Dropped off" and she said in a low voice " at that orphanage, Last Hope Orphanage".
"How..."
"I don't know nor do I want to know. Just ground him for several months and let that be the end of it."
"He will want to visit them, surly."
Here Aunt Petuniia raised her voice just a bit; "any visitations would just be a silly waste of time". Before turning around and storming off back upstairs.