23rd June, 1991: 7.00am

Harry Smith was perfectly normal, thank you very much. Everything about him was painfully boring. He didn't talk much at school, much preferring the company of books or just sitting quietly by the school garden. His grades were barely passable, but not low enough to catch the attention of the staff. He was quite small and seemed to have a knack for blending into the background. He didn't really have any friends to speak of.

It certainly didn't help that his cousin hated him.

Dudley thought himself a pretty tough guy at school, and meek little Harry was the perfect punching bag for him and his gang. Whatever they did to him, Harry never seemed to tell anyone or give any indication of trouble. He was the perfect victim. So little was known about Harry Smith that no-one realised that he and Dudley Dursley lived under the same roof. Even if you were to visit, there was no sign that another boy lived there.

The photos around the house depicted a stick thin woman with a horselike face, a rotund man with a rosy complexion and a thick moustache, and a young blond boy who seemed to grow rounder as he aged. Harry never appeared. The first of the two spare bedrooms was Dudley's second bedroom, filled with a decade's worth of junk; the second was a pristine guest room. The few neighbours who had seen him there were told that Harry was a distant relative who visited often, as constant chores were necessary to "keep the brat in line".

No-one who visited ever thought to question the bolt on the cupboard under the stairs. Harry's Cupboard.

He had lived there ever since he could remember. At night he slept on the old, too-small mattress that was crammed into the space, with ragged old blankets wrapped about him. In the day his sole purpose was to serve the Dursley family. Ever since he was old enough he had cooked the meals, washed the dishes, laundered the clothes, tended the garden and cleaned the house. When he slipped in his duties, he was punished. Sometimes he would be locked away in his cupboard. Other times his Uncle would beat him. It didn't seem to matter how badly he was hurt, as by the next day the worst of the injuries would look like minor bumps and scrapes. He didn't know if this was a blessing or a curse, as Vernon seemed to try a little harder each time to "make the lesson sink in".

With so little joy in his life, Harry took pride in his work. The garden was perfect, his cooking delectable and the house spotless. Deep down he hoped that maybe, just once, he would be acknowledged if he did well enough. If anything, the more perfect he was the more suspicious his Aunt became of "any funny business", even if his Uncle cared only for the results.

The summer break offered no respite - in fact, holidays were the worst time of the year for Harry Smith. There was no way to escape from his relatives. The books he lost himself in during school breaktimes could not be read in the darkness of his cupboard. He was rarely allowed out of Number Four, which made it difficult to avoid the vindictive punches and kicks of his cousin. Where during term he could engage in classes and learn something interesting, at home there was only the never-ending list of chores.

This morning started like most mornings. Harry jerked awake in the dark at the sound of his Aunt stirring upstairs. With only the faintest of light creeping around the edge of the cupboard door, he stooped in the space and threw on some clothes. Aunt Petunia's precise footsteps loosened a little of the dust from the underside of the stairs. Then she rapped sharply at the door and slid back the bolt.

"Freak! Up, up! Make breakfast. Everything will be perfect for Dudder's birthday, or else."

He nodded mutely and pattered into the kitchen. He managed to tamp down his hunger as the smell of bacon wafted through the air - if he was lucky his Aunt might allow him some plain toast today. It wasn't long before Dudley thumped down the stairs like a small rhinoceros.

"Happy birthday Duddykins!" squealed Aunt Petunia. "Come see your presents!"

A slower, heavier set of thumps signalled Uncle Vernon's arrival. He wordlessly snatched the steaming plates from Harry's hands before joining his wife and son in the next room.

"Thirty-six? But that's two less than last year!" whined Dudley.

"But Darling, you missed Aunt Marge's present." Aunt Petunia cooed. "It's here, under this large one from Mummy and Daddy."

"All right, thirty-seven then."

Harry thought he detected a tantrum on the way, and rushed into the room to rescue the plates in case Dudley flipped the table over. His Aunt and Uncle would be furious if one of the Portmeiron plates were damaged. Sure enough, Dudley's face was turning red from the centre of his pile of presents. Harry's quick glance took in what he guessed to be a computer, another television and a racing bike. However, he had no clue about the huge cuboid in the centre.

"And we'll buy you another two while we're out today. How's that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right?" There was a hint of desperation in his Aunt's voice now.

"So that'll be… thirty-nine. Alright then."

Harry had let out a gentle sigh of relief that he wouldn't have to clear up behind his cousin any more than usual today.

Dudley reached for the biggest one and started to tear off the paper. Inside was a large glass tank. A terrarium, Harry remembered they were called. Inside was a bright green, striped snake.

"Wow, cool!" Dudley yelled, his face plastered against the glass. After a couple of seconds, he promptly ignored the terrified reptile to tear into more of his presents. Eventually he finished going through the stacks of video games and electronic devices, leaving Harry to clear the empty dishes and torn paper.

"Boy!" yelled Uncle Vernon. "We are going out for Dudley's birthday. You will be staying here. I do not trust you. You will stay in the cupboard and it will be locked until we return. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

Soon he was locked back in the dark, listening to the scraping of boots and gruff noises from his Uncle. The revving of their Mercedes started up shortly after, which quickly disappeared into the distance. After about half an hour, when he was certain they wouldn't have come back to collect a forgotten item, Harry crawled out of his nest. He peeled up a loose floorboard, and retrieved a clothes hanger he had stolen once. It had long since lost its original shape, the thin wire bent into a specific hook. Harry gently fed it through the gap in the door, feeling for the bolt on the outside. It was fiddly work, but he had had a lot of practice; eventually, the bolt was slid open with a small snick. As long as he was careful about the time, the Dursleys need never know he had left his cupboard.

After fetching some water and something to eat, he went to check out the snake in the living room. It was beautiful. Realising that the Dursleys had neglected to leave the snake any water or food, Harry attended to it. There were no mice handy, but there was leftover chicken from a roast the night before.

"There, that should do for now." He said with satisfaction.

"Tttthank you Sssspeaker" came back a gentle hiss.

Harry, naturally, jumped out of his skin.

"You can talk?"

"Young Ssspeaker, you are the one who can talk."

Harry, slightly in shock, had a rather surreal chat with the snake for over an hour. Apparently she (for she was a girl snake) was scared of the other humans, and would like nothing more than to escape. Even if the world outside was an unfriendly place, it would beat being the plaything of a negligent human.

Harry didn't want someone else to suffer at Dudley's hands, so he left the lid slightly ajar with a wink, before pointing at an open window.

"I'll even give you a boost if you want?"

After the newly christened Sesame had escaped, Harry stole some food, filled an old plastic bottle with water and took a length of dental floss from the bathroom cupboard. Making a loose loop around the bolt, he closed the door and tugged gently until the bolt was back in place. He reeled the length inside, horded his stolen goods under the floorboard, and slowly stewed in his guilt. How would the Dursleys take out their anger on him? He didn't regret helping the poor snake, but he knew he would suffer for it whether there was any evidence or not. He was still not entirely convinced about their little chat, though. Anything strange or "freakish" was looked down upon as "dangerous nonsense" by the Dursleys, to the point where the word "magic" was pretty much considered taboo. He must have imagined the conversation to help pass the time. Harry had used to talk to some of the broken toys he'd smuggled out of the rubbish when he was younger. This couldn't be all that different. Sesame was a gorgeous specimen and he hoped she'd be able to survive in the wild. Eventually, he fell asleep.

He woke in a panic when a large hand grabbed him around the throat. Harry was yanked out of his nest, his head solidly striking the doorframe on the way out. An errant thought wondered if it was the impact or a lack of oxygen which was causing him to see stars.

"BOY! What did you do with Dudley's snake?"

Harry was disorientated enough to look correctly confused at this question.

"Uncle I swear, I've been in my cupboard the entire time!"

With a disbelieving sneer, he was flung bodily into the cupboard, his head thumping a second time (this time against the far wall) before the door was slammed and bolted.

"You'll stay in there until I say otherwise, you hear?"

In the dark, Harry was glad that the snake wasn't suffering the same as him. Although dizzy and in pain, he counted his blessings. At least he wouldn't starve – he was glad for pinching food while he had the chance.

Author's Notes:

I think the only minor change this time was the colour of the snake, from orange to green. From now on it'll be new material.