Disclaimer: Same as chapter one. I hate book six, so I'm removing it from the timeline and changing things that were introduced during it.
Harry woke up the next morning, feeling relatively happy, for some reason. He couldn't understand it. There was no reason to be happy, not while he was stuck with the Dursleys.
Harry sat up, and pulled the panel off of his wall, and went to grab a book he hadn't read yet. His hand felt for the book, but came across a piece of paper, and an envelope. Harry's eyes closed, and opened again.
He had wondered if it was a dream or not, but here seemed to be proof that it wasn't. There was the letter he had written last night, to send with the owl. It was strange, that he was so happy about it. For all he knew, it could have been a joke made by the Dursleys. But Harry knew it was true. There was no explanation, but the way that the Dursleys reacted whenever Harry mentioned magic, or anything like it, made it seem like it was true, and the Dursleys knew about it. They also had never told him.
Harry was rather angry at this line of thought, so he quickly changed directions. He was leaving. He was finally leaving the Dursleys like he had always hoped and dreamed of doing.
He grabbed the letter and hid it in his jacket like he always did. The jacket may have been Dudley's once, but since he had grown too large, the Dursleys had given it to Harry. It fit him relatively well, since it was from several years ago, and Harry had just started to grow a little, though he was still small for his age.
Harry quickly slipped on some clothes, and put the jacket on. Then he heard the thing that he had been dreading all morning, like he did every morning… his Aunt's screeching voice.
"GET UP! Get up! We can't have you be slouching around doing nothing! You'll make your keep here. Get up and make breakfast. Quickly now! Nothing must go wrong for Dudley's birthday!"
Crap! Harry had forgotten that today was Dudley's birthday. He dove out of bed, and jumped out of the cupboard that he lived in. Dashing down the hallway to the kitchen, he started immediately to work on breakfast.
After finishing breakfast and sneaking enough to stop his hunger, he went into the living room, as he always did on Dudley's birthday. Waiting there, he sat, wondering what his substitute parents would be doing this year that he missed out on.
He heard the phone ring outside, and then there was silence for a moment. He heard the phone being slammed down on the receiver, before a loud, angry roar. His uncle came storming into the room.
Harry was scared for his life by that time. With how angry his uncle was, there was no telling what could happen now.
Vernon Dursley was an easy man to anger. You said something wrong, and he hated you for the rest of his life. But now, the man was in a towering rage. He looked over at Harry. "I don't know what you did, brat, but you're going to pay for it." He snarled.
Harry's eyes widened, and he backed away. "W-what h-h-happened, U-u-uncle Vernon?"
"It seems Mrs. Figg has broken her leg. She is not able to take you in today, like she planned. So I will have to deal with you now." Harry looked on with fright as his uncle, Vernon Dursley advanced on him. He knew what was coming. The same thing that happened every single time something bad happened. Somehow it was always his fault, and somehow he was always punished for it.
An hour later, Harry was inside of his cupboard, beaten and nearly unconscious. The door way was locked, and there was no way out. He was trapped, once again. Same as it always was whenever something went bad. Dudley had been cheering his father on while he beat Harry. Didn't he have any sense of humanity! Was there nothing wrong with treating a person like this?
Harry sat like this for hours, before remembering about his letter. He tried to get up, slowly, but the pain was too great to bear. He was stuck, with no way out. He grabbed at the small pin he kept in cases like this. Taking it, he stuck it into the lock on this side of the door. Popping it open quickly, he tried to crawl out. He made it a few feet before collapsing. There was nothing he could do.
There was a small tapping on the window, and Harry looked over. There was the owl, staring at him with wide, sad eyes.
Harry barely managed to make it to the window, with the letter held in his mouth. He opened the window, and grabbed a hold of the letter in his slightly bloody hands. He held it out towards the bird, which immediately took it with concerned eyes. The bird flew away quickly.
Harry watched if fly, before falling into the sweet, merciful release of unconsciousness.