Harry stretched as far as the mattress would allow in his tiny, sparsely decorated cupboard. He blinked up at the darkness and tried to recall what had woken him. 'It had been a dream', he thought, 'but of what?' Vaguely he could remember a woman's voice. It had been soft, nearly whisper like, but Harry couldn't remember what she had said.

Harry gave up as the sound of the house waking began. His aunt's light footsteps down into the kitchen, his uncle's tremendous booming snores coming to an end, and Dudley's whining for 'five more minutes, mum.' He waited for the sharp rap on his cupboard door and the sound of his latch unlocking. It came, as it did every morning, and Harry rushed to the loo. He had been bursting since the evening prior. He quickly did his business and washed up for the day ahead.

Thankfully, it was summer, and that meant that there would be no rush out of the house and no visits to miserable . Harry glanced down at the paper had left perched on the bathroom sink. 'July 31st, 1987' Harry read and his heart dropped. It was his birthday today, which meant it was bound to be the most terrible day of the year. He had only learned when his birthday was two years ago when Dudley had told him. He remembered the snide look on the chubby boy's face as he punched his shoulder five times. "Birthday punches!" The boy had said after, "And it's all you'll be getting because mummy and daddy are giving me all the gifts because I'm good and you're bad."

Dudley had seemed to think it was funny because every year he made sure to continue the tradition. Harry's shoulder throbbed with the memory and he wished he had never learned about his birthday.

"Hurry up!" Aunt Petunia's voice rang from downstairs.

Harry set down the paper and headed down to meet his aunt in the kitchen. Harry noticed Dudley was smirking from the table as he waited for his breakfast. Mr. Dursley was nowhere to be seen and Harry found that quite peculiar. The elder Dursley was always the first one at the table and usually the last to leave as he said he hated to waste good food.

Harry could feel his aunt's eyes peer over his appearance in disgust. He didn't know why she was so bothered with how he looked when they wouldn't even buy him his own clothes. He was constantly stitching up old outfits of his cousin's and trying to scrub out old ice cream stains. There was no amount of folding or rolling that would make the large boy's clothing fit Harry's slim frame any better.

"Here, Dudders." Aunt Petunia said sweetly and served her son a large plate of eggs, ham, and toast. He dug in with vigor and Harry couldn't help but to wince at how quickly he managed to shove so much food into his mouth.

"Boy." His aunt said more cooly and handed him a piece of buttered toast on a paper towel. Harry ate carefully, knowing any crumbs he spilled would mean deep cleaning the entire kitchen.

"Mum, where's dad?" Dudley asked through a mouthful of egg.

Petunia smiled and clasped her hands together over her teacup. "We have a very special day planned for you today."

Beeeeep. Beeeeeep. A car horn sounded from outside and Dudley rushed to the front window. Outside, Mr. Dursley was driving their car, but attached to the rear of it was a motorized boat. Dudley met his father outside who was dressed in waders and a pocketed vest which made his already rotund belly look even more pronounced. Harry watched on as his uncle and cousin left with the boat to enjoy the beautiful sunny day.

"What am I doing today, Aunt Petunia?" Harry asked. He was almost afraid to know the answer.

"We'll be emptying out the guest room." She said plainly and led him up to the 'guest' bedroom.

Harry didn't know why they insisted it was called a guest bedroom when the Dursleys simply never had any overnight guests. Even Dudley's friends never stayed the night over - they would always go over to the friend's house. Harry supposed he might be part of the reason they never had visitors over. 'Wouldn't want anyone to know that they kept their nephew in a broom cupboard.' He thought to himself.

The room was littered with cardboard boxes and old furniture that had been replaced in his uncle and aunt's bedroom the year prior. His aunt lowered the staircase ladder that led to the loft.

"You will take those boxes and move them into the loft." She instructed. Harry held back a groan. The boxes weren't much smaller than he was and there had to be at least a dozen in the small space.

Harry grabbed the first box and he could feel Aunt Petunia's eyes on his every motion. She watched him move two or three before she seemed satisfied and went back downstairs to gossip on the phone with one of her friends. Harry got about halfway through when curiosity got the better of him.

'Mum.' The top of the box read. It looked like Aunt Petunia's thin, script writing. Harry had known Dudley and he had grandparents at one point, but that they had died not long after Harry was born. In the living room, on the mantle, there was a picture of a baby Dudley being bounced on their grandmother's knee with their grandfather standing behind them.

The woman had looked like she was very nice. Not at all like his Aunt Petunia who was always looking dour. Harry listened carefully to make sure his aunt was still on the phone before peeling open the box carefully. Inside, he found some folded sweaters, a blanket, some trinkets wrapped in old newspaper that he didn't dare unwrap. Harry sighed in disappointment and began to fold the box back up when he noticed the corner of something shiny. He grasped it out from the middle of the box carefully and found that it was a silver book of some sort.

It was embossed in flower patterns and seemed to have plastic pages. He opened it and dropped it back into the box in shock. It was a photobook and the first photo was of a family - his family. Seeing his parents for the first time was mind boggling enough, but then they waved at him. The photo was alive!

Harry blinked and pinched himself. "Ouch." He grumbled. The world hadn't changed, he was definitely awake and this was most certainly real. His parents looked up at him smiling and waving while they held little Harry close. He snapped the book shut and he stuffed the photobook into his pocket before closing the box back up quickly. He didn't want his aunt to find his new discovery.

Harry rushed through putting the rest of the boxes away before coming downstairs panting from exertion. He hoped his aunt would let him out now so he could take a better look at the photos away from the house where he could be discovered.

"Hold on, Susan." Aunt Petunia said and placed the phone receiver against her chest. "Done already?"

Harry nodded and his aunt squinted at him suspiciously. Harry squirmed, but tried to look as innocent as possible.

"Nothing better be broken and they better all be put away neatly." She said.

"May I go out to the park now?" Harry asked.

He could see his aunt hesitate, but finally she nodded and went back to her call. Harry internally thanked Susan for whatever juicy gossip she was spreading to his aunt. Normally, she would be much more likely to find him something else to do especially this early in the day.

Harry headed out towards the park, but frowned when he noticed there were quite a few families out playing in the nice, warm weather. He thought for a moment and turned right instead and went towards the farthest corner of the playground. Here there was only a single swing with a very squeaky chain that most people tended to stay away from and thankfully today was no exception. He found a cool, dark spot under an old elm tree and pried the book from his pocket.

He ran his fingers carefully over the delicate surface and took a deep breath before opening it. His mother with her long auburn hair and green eyes stared up at him cheerfully as she showed off a gurgling Harry with sprouts of black hair poking up in all directions. His father was beside her with his horn rimmed glasses, a lopsided grin, messy black hair and a slightly crooked nose. He waved at Harry and ran his other hand though his hair making it even more messy.

Harry was in awe. He had never seen a picture move before, other than on the television. He slipped it from its plastic sleeve looking for wires or a battery or some sign of technology, but there was none. All there was was a neat delicate script on the back that said, 'Lily, James, and baby Harry 1980'

Harry placed it back into its sleeve and anxiously flipped to the next picture. This picture was normal, it was of a young couple in wedding clothes. The picture seemed very old and Harry looked at the back to find another notation in the same handwriting as before, 'Our Wedding Day'

That had to be his grandparents then. They looked so young, nearly as young as his parents in their photo with him. His grandmother had long blonde hair with blue eyes and his grandfather was red-headed with the same green eyes as his mother. He placed the picture back again and his heart beat heavily. These people were all dead now, but they were his family. Harry could feel himself getting teary, but he flipped to the next page.

It was his mother again, but this time she was even younger. Harry guessed she was only a few years older than him. She was sitting on a sofa next to a boy. The boy definitely wasn't his father Harry noted. He had long, black hair and black eyes. Harry thought he looked sad. Harry turned over the photo 'Lily and Severus Snape, first day of school'

Harry continued to go through the photo book. Each time reading his grandmother's notes. 'Lily and Petunia, first beach trip' 'Petunia and Charlie Green, first date' 'Petunia and Vernon Dursley Wedding Day'. The book came to the end with one final photograph of Harry. Harry was surprised to see his own features in the little baby, but the one thing missing was his scar. Harry touched his forehead wistfully.

His aunt had told him he got the scar from the car crash that killed his parents. She had said they were horribly drunk and crashed into a tree and he should be grateful he was alive with such generous relatives to take him in. He had believed her straight away, but now after seeing them he wondered if it was true. They didn't seem like terrible drunks, they seemed nice.

Harry returned back to Privet Drive and for the first time that night he dreamt of his family. His brain was lit with family dinners and birthdays; of smiling faces and tight hugs and most importantly of all, love.

-x-

A/N: Thank you so much for taking the time to enjoy this first chapter. There will be more to come and soon! I'm open to any feedback and there may be revisions further down the line. I hope you enjoy.