The Dursleys of No. 4 Privet Drive were upstanding citizens of Great Britain, who were burdened with raising a delinquent nephew- son of Petunia Dursley's sister and her criminal husband. The sister, Lily Potter, had married a lowlife criminal, James Potter. They had a child called, Harry Potter, before being killed in a car crash. Definitely a case of drunken driven by that lowlife Potter. This had happened 4 years ago. 4 years since Mrs. Dursley woke up on the cold wintery morning of 2nd November, to find a baby on her doorsteps. 4 years of trying to cure the boy of his criminal tendency.

Which was why, none was surprised when the son of Vernon Dursley, Dudley and his friends were seen chasing Harry Potter or as he was popularly known in the neighbourhood as 'boy' or 'freak'.

"That boy must have gotten into trouble again", muttered a neighbour to herself.

"Ah, the boy must have stolen something again. Good of that Dursley kid to teach to try and teach the delinquent a lesson. Poor Vernon, having to bear the ignominy of such a ward", said another.

Harry Potter was meanwhile running for what seemed like his life from Dudley and his gang, after having taken another beating, wondering yet again on what had he done to deserve this. He was aware that his neighbours all thought that he deserved what he got for the being a wayward child, so he should not expect anyone to help. Finally, he rounded a corner, spotting bins behind which he could take refuge. As he approached the bins, he could hear Dudley's gang approaching the bend and decided to jump behind the bins, closing his eyes, wishing that he was well hidden before Dudley or his gang could see him. Wishing that no one would find him there, the fear and exhaustion quite apparent

Dursley and his gang took the same turn they had seen the freak take and started looking around for him. They looked everywhere but freak was just not in in sight. They spotted a few bins and went to check if the freak was hiding there. Nothing. Dudley unfortunately had inherited his father's temper and his ability to deal with failure. Which is to say, he had no patience for it, which meant a tantrum for the freak escaping. He was going to make the freak pay for it in the evening, at home. Meanwhile, someone else had to bear the brunt of it.

The fear and exhaustion had his heart beating rapidly and maybe that had something to do with the squeezing feel he got for a moment and made him nauseous. He still did not dare open his eyes, until suddenly a body hit him and he was bowled over and just for a moment he thought heard, "Master Harry, is back."

Harry opened his eyes to see a tiny green coloured creature, he had never seen before, with pointy nose and eyes like tennis balls, looking at him, hugging him. Perhaps the heat and exhaustion was affecting his mind. That would explain this wicked apparition before his eyes. Whatever, this creature was, he needed to get away, but he was too exhausted to run. Slowly, his vision darkened and Harry Potter fainted.

When Harry came to, he was lying on bed. This was surely not his bed at No.4 Privet Drive and neither was this room, bedroom or what was known as cupboard under the stairs. This was large room, with an open balcony at one side. The room itself was richly furnished. Harry himself was in a king sized four poster bed. He felt around himself a bit. The mattress was soft, so was his quilt, which ruled out the hospital. Suddenly the door on his right opened and in came the same creature he had seen at first. Harry immediately bolted to get away from this creature, which turned out to be a mistake. He soon found that his legs were a bit tangled with the quilt and couldn't move much.

The creature squeaked, "Master Harry must not move. Master Harry is not well."

Harry looked at the creature with surprise for a moment before speaking.

"Excuse me, but what are you?"

"Wimpy, Sir"

Right, that helps a lot, Harry thought to himself.

"What's a wimpy?"

"I is called Wimpy, Sir"

"That's good Wimpy, but I have never seen you before. You look…..odd. And you are calling me Master Harry. Do you know me?"

Harry observed a sudden realisation dawn at his state of cluelessness.

"Wimpy, is a house-elf, Master Harry and Wimpy belong Potter family and Master Harry. Mistress Lily make Wimpy the nanny of Master Harry when he be born.

"Thanks, Wimpy, but who exactly is Mistress Lily?"

The house-elf seemed shocked at that question as if it was blasphemy.

"Mistress Lily be Master Harry's mother"

"Er… you mean to say, my mother lived here?"

The big eyed creature just gave nod at that.

"How could they afford this? This seems rich for some criminal. Were you part of my father's gang?"

Now it was time for the elf to look with confusion.

"The Potters be rich wizards and Master James never do crime. Hes be pranking lot, but never crime."

"Did you say wizards?"

Suddenly Harry Potter burst out laughing. "Good one Dudley, but I am not falling for it."

The elf merely looked on as if Harry had lost his mind. "Is Master Harry well?"

"Ok, you can drop the act. I know this is Dudley trying to get me in trouble again. Where is he hiding?"

"Wimpy be knowing no Dudley, Master Harry"

Harry was not sure how long he continued arguing with this elf fellow, Wimpy, before he was convinced that this was not some hoax cooked up by Dudley. Wimpy had managed to convince Harry that he was magical just like his parents. His parents had not died in car crash as the Dursley's had told him. No. They were killed by a bad wizard. The bad wizard had tried to kill him but for some reason he failed. And when he failed, somehow his power broke, and he died. What made Harry happy was that at least now he knew that his parents loved him and they were not what Uncle Vernon claimed they were. They were respected and well loved by people. His Uncle was wrong.

It was the thought of his uncle that made Harry realize that he did not have the injuries which were left on his body by Dudley and his gang. When he voiced his thoughts, Wimpy informed him that she had fixed him.

For first time since Harry could remember, he was happy. He was at the ancestral home of Potters, where his father and his grandfather and many other Potters before him grew up. It was a big house-bigger than the Dursleys, with large grounds surrounding it. Most importantly though, it was his house. It was where he would have, he should have grown up. No one could throw him out of here, nor would anyone be beating him. Here he was safe. With that happy thought, he again decided to sleep. A content smile on his face. "This is magic", was his last thought.