Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
"Boy! Get up!" A piercing shriek woke me up. I rolled over on my side and continued to sleep. "Up! Now!" My aunt wrapped on the door. My eyes shot open but closed almost immediately. I hadn't gotten much sleep that night. I kept getting weird dreams. People lying on the floor and a baby crying.
Finally I heard my uncle's heavy footsteps.
"BOY! GET UP NOW!" he yelled. This time my eyes didn't close again.
"Yes, Uncle Vernon," I said. I fumbled around in the dark for my glasses. Sometimes I wonder why my aunt and uncle bothered to get me glasses. They seem to hate me so much. I remember one time I called my aunt "mommy" by accident. I was three years old. I seriously thought she was going to hurt me. But I hadn't known any better. I lived with my aunt and uncle since I was one. What did they expect?
I stood up, squatting, and opened the door. My eyes took a while to get used to the light. Most kids, like my cousin Dudley for example, probably have to get used to the light when they wake up in their room. But there wasn't much light in the cupboard under the stairs where I slept.
My name is Harry Potter. I live with my aunt, uncle, and cousin because my parents died when I was one year old. They died in a car crash. I have black hair and green eyes. My relatives hate my hair, but no matter how they get it cut and jelled down it is always back to normal the next morning. There's really nothing special to my features, except for a lightning-shaped scar on my forehead. My aunt and uncle say it's from the car crash, but I don't believe them. When I try really hard I can hear laughter and screaming and I see a green light. I don't know if it has to do with my parents' deaths, but I think it does. I'm seven years old, like my cousin. The parents of other kids at my school always say I'm much more mature than other seven year olds.
I walked down the hall towards the kitchen. When I entered, the first thing I noticed was the snow falling outside. Big glass doors led onto the patio, and all of the furniture was covered in a blanket of glistening white.
"Hurry, hurry, hurry! The bacon is burning!" Aunt Petunia, a thin, blond woman with a horse-like face, yelled at me. She, my uncle, and my cousin were seated around the table with cups of coffee or milk. Uncle Vernon was a big, beefy man. He had a bushy mustache and a slightly purple face. My cousin, Dudley, was the same build as his father. He had dirty blond hair and little blue eyes. He had two chins and disgusting eating habits.
I ran to the stove and tried in vain to keep the bacon from burning. Unfortunately, it was black and crisp so I had to throw it away and make more. When the bacon was almost done, I cracked six eggs into two frying pans. My uncle liked to have three, my aunt would have one, and Dudley would have two.
Soon breakfast was finished. I put the correct amount of food onto everyone's plates and served them. Only then was I able to make my own breakfast.
After breakfast, the phone rang. Thinking it might be someone she knew and liked, Aunt Petunia made me sit down and answered the phone herself.
"Hello? Mrs. Figg! How nice to hear from you," Aunt Petunia said while grimacing. Mrs. Figg was a cat lover and Aunt Petunia hated animals. I wonder why she kept Dudley then.
Every time the Dursleys', my aunt, uncle, and cousin, went somewhere they would send me to Mrs. Figg's. Her house smelled like cats and she made me watch the most boring shows on TV. She would also make me cake, but I swear she put cat food in it.
I watched Aunt Petunia intently, hoping to see some sign of disappointment (other than the disappointment of Mrs. Figg calling) which would mean I wouldn't be able to go to her house and the Dursleys would have to take me with them to the movies. I was the one who ended up being disappointed, however.
"What? Oh, yes, yes, I'll tell him. Good-bye." As Aunt Petunia put the phone back she turned to me and said "Mrs. Figg asked me to tell you that she's baked a cake all for you. 'He's all skin and bones. I'll make sure he eats the whole thing'," she mimicked. "Vernon! Dudley! It's time to go, the movie starts soon and we want to get good seats!" The stairs creaked and groaned as Uncle Vernon stomped down them and the couch squeaked as Dudley got up. "Get dressed, boy," said Aunt Petunia and swept from the room to find her coat.
I went to the cupboard and fished out a baggy sweater. All of my clothes were a couple of sizes too large as they used to belong to Dudley.
Soon we were all in the car. Uncle Vernon put it in drive and we zoomed up and down streets searching for Mrs. Figg's house. As soon as we found it, I was kicked out of the car and left to watch as they sped away. I walked up the steps to Mrs. Figg's door and ran the bell. The door opened immediately and I was face-to-face with Mrs. Figg.
"Hello, Harry. How are you?"
"Good, thanks. You?"
"Wonderful. Oh, come in, come in, I wouldn't want you to freeze! Unless you have natural insulation, like your father." I looked at the woman, surprised. What did she just say?
"Excuse me?" I asked. Mrs. Figg looked startled.
"Oh, nothing, nothing. I baked you a cake!" And she was back to her usual, smiling self. But I could have sworn there was a look of…well, I don't know what it was. Could it have been love? Compassion? Pity? In any case, I still had a day full of cats, cake, and bad TV shows.
A week later, it was time for last minute Christmas shopping. Of course, I didn't have any money. I had painted a picture series at school and was planning to give it to my relatives. I knew they would just say how horrible it was and put it through the paper shredder, but I wanted to give someone something. All of the other Christmas-celebrating kids were all excited and painting things to give to their parents and I wanted to join in. I didn't have any friends I could give it to, so the Dursleys were my only option.
Knowing that, I hadn't exactly painted a couple of pretty pictures. They were pictures of a couple of my dreams put together.
The first one was of two men. One was in a black cloak. His eyes were red and he was holding a stick in his hand. It looked like a wand from one of my fairy tales. The other man had one too. He had black hair and glasses like mine. In fact, he looked exactly like me. Except I had made his eyes more of a hazel color.
The next picture was of a woman standing with a baby in her arms. She had red hair and the baby had hair like the second man. I decided she was his wife and the baby was his son.
The third picture was of the second man. The first man was gone now and the second was on the floor. The wand had rolled away and his glasses had fallen off.
The fourth was of the first man standing in a doorway with his wand pointed out. The red-haired woman was standing in front of a crib. The door was almost on the floor, so it looked like it had fallen. Maybe the red-eyed man had made it fall over.
The fifth picture was just all green. There were no shapes or anything, it was just green.
The sixth was of the woman lying on the floor. I knew she was dead, just like I knew her husband was dead. The red-eyed man was standing over the crib now and pointing his wand into it.
The seventh picture showed a green line between the crib and the man's chest.
The eighth, and last, picture showed the man lying on the ground next to the woman. His eyes, like the husband and wife's, were wide open, but it was more noticeable on his because they were red.
When the teacher came by, all I would show her were the first two. She told me I had incredible talent for a seven year old. I was almost never praised for anything, so that felt very good.
All of the details in the pictures were collected from lots and lots of dreams. I had a horrible feeling that they told the true story of how my parents died. The black-haired man was my father and the woman was my mother. I painted her eyes green, even though I never got that detail from the dreams. I just thought I had her eyes. I don't know why.
I really hoped it wasn't how they died. In any case, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's reactions would tell me all I needed to know.
The only reason my aunt and uncle brought me with them to the store was to keep Dudley occupied while they bought the last of his gifts. It took a while to convince him to go with me and then they gave me some money and sent us to a movie.
After the movie, we went back to the store and Aunt Petunia told us to get into the car because it was time to go. Dudley got in and I was stuffed in after him.
Soon it was Christmas. I doubt they would have woken me up at all if they hadn't wanted coffee to drink while opening presents. I had wrapped mine at Mrs. Figg's. It was a really strange evening.
Flashback…
"Mrs. Figg, can I wrap my present at your house?" I asked as we walked back from grocery shopping. The Dursleys were at a dinner party.
"Of course. I just bought some new wrapping paper!" When we reached the house she went down to the basement and got it. It was red with white and green cats on it. I guess it didn't look that bad.
I took the paintings out of my backpack and put them on the table.
"Do you have a box I could put these in?" I asked.
"I do. Let me just see them so I can figure out what size we need," she said and walked over. As soon as she saw the first one she grew very pale.
"What's wrong?" I asked, hoping to steer her away from looking at the others. No such luck. When she saw the next one she went even whiter.
"W-what are these? D-did you paint them?"
"Yeah." She looked at the next one and dropped it with a shriek. "What?" I asked. "He's just sleeping! Don't worry. Yeah, he got really tired," I said, thinking as fast as I could. The next one brought on another scream and the one after that made her faint. "Mrs. Figg!" I rushed into the kitchen and got a glass of cold water. I poured it all over her face. She wouldn't stop looking at the pictures.
"W-what are these?" she asked again.
"Paintings."
"Why did you paint them?"
"I saw them in dreams."
"You did? Oh, you poor boy. Come here." She pulled me into a big hug. I was confused. What was going on? "Even though you saw them in dreams, why would you paint them?" she asked.
"I'm giving them to the Dursleys. They'll help me find something out," I answered. She looked at me knowingly.
"Good luck," was all she said and went to get a box.
End flashback…
As soon as the coffee was in my aunt and uncle's hands we went into the living room where the Christmas tree stood. It was as tall as could fit in the room and was decorated with all sorts of ornaments and colorful lights. 97 of the presents under it were for Dudley.
He had gotten everything he asked for. A computer, a playstation, a gameboy, a new boom box and all sorts of other things. I had gotten two old socks.
Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon opened my present last.
"What's this?" sniffed Aunt Petunia opening the box. Dudley stood over their shoulders also looking. Neither my aunt nor my uncle looked very affected by the first picture. The second one made my aunt and uncle go pale. Then Aunt Petunia had reactions exactly like Mrs. Figg's.
"What is this rubbish?" roared Uncle Vernon, but he was very pale too. I had gotten the answer I needed by the third picture. When Aunt Petunia saw a painting of her sister lying on the floor, dead, she fainted for the second time.
"These are some of the dreams I've been having," I answered calmly, but inside I was breaking down. Tears were already threatening to spill from my eyes. This was how my parents had died. I didn't understand what they really meant, or how they died, but I understood that they had been murdered. I knew there was no such thing as magic, but I still thought that's how they had died because of the sticks I was sure were wands.
"You-you've been dreaming this?" whispered Aunt Petunia.
"Yes. You know who those people are. I know you do. You know what's going on in those pictures. Tell me. I want to know too. They are my parents, after all," I said. Aunt Petunia stifled a scream.
"What are you on about?" said Uncle Vernon. "You're crazy! You're a freak! Just like your parents!" Suddenly he realized what he'd said.
"Right. You have to tell me now," I said. Dudley was just looking on in wonder. "What exactly made them freaks?"
"I won't tell you! We promised ourselves we'd squash it out of you and telling you would prove all of our years of torture to be in vain!"
"Tell me!" I screamed.
"No!" Uncle Vernon had gone from white to a dangerous shade of purple. "Go to your cupboard, boy! You've ruined our Christmas! Get out!"
"NO! YOU'LL TELL ME! I'M NOT LEAVING UNTIL YOU DO!" I erupted. Suddenly the room shook. The windows cracked and then shattered. My relatives screamed and threw themselves on the ground. I didn't even flinch. Somehow I knew it was me causing that, but I didn't know how.
"You're just like them! You're a freak, a useless little boy! You'd be dead if it wasn't for us and you make our lives hell!" bellowed Uncle Vernon.
"Shut up! Just shut up and tell me the truth!" I yelled, not caring that that didn't really make sense. I mean, how could they tell me the truth if they shut up? "What was different about my parents? How did they really die? Who was that other man?" Aunt Petunia opened her mouth but Uncle Vernon put a big, meaty hand over it.
"That's it! You're out of here!" He grabbed me by the neck of my sweater and pulled me through the halls. He opened the door and threw me out. I landed comfortably, but coldly, in a snow bank. Uncle Vernon threw out my coat, gloves, and hat behind me. Aunt Petunia and Dudley hurried to the hall way to see what he was doing.
"Vernon -?" Aunt Petunia said, putting a hand to her mouth.
"Stay away from our house and family! Stay away, and don't ever come back, wizard!" screamed Uncle Vernon and slammed the door shut.