The Boy in The Cupboard

10 years later

Harry Potter was up far too early. He wasn't sure how he knew, since the space around him was too dark to see an inch in front of his face and he didn't own a clock anyway. However, he was certain that whatever time it was, it was too early for him to get up.

He lay there in the dark for a few minutes with his eyes closed, trying to drift back off into sleep. There was nobody banging on his door or screaming at him to get up and help cook breakfast, meaning that the Dursleys were still in bed and he could try to get a couple more minutes at least. He rolled onto his side and thumped his pillow into a more comfortable shape, before deciding that he didn't like that and turning so he was on his back again.

Realising that his efforts were in vain, the ten-year-old boy groped in the darkness behind him for his glasses. Once his fumbling fingers found the frames, he pushed them on and reached for the switch by his head. Light bloomed above him and he snapped his eyes shut, throwing one arm over his face. Blinking rapidly, he waited for his eyes to adjust, before sitting up and stretching as far as the walls would allow.

Harry yawned and observed the space around him. It couldn't really be called a bedroom, more of a cupboard with some of the things normally found in a bedroom stuffed inside. Most of the cramped space was occupied by Harry's bed, which was really just a mattress covered with some worn bedding. To his left, in the space between the bed and the wall, were his clothes, all neatly piled and sorted in a way that made the cupboard seem bigger than it actually was. Lining the walls were several shelves which had once been used to hold his Uncle's tools, but were now home to Harry's collection.

Harry had very few possessions of his own, even his clothes had once been owned by his Uncle or his cousin, Dudley. What he did have was a collection of objects he had found in and around the house or while at school. He had learned early on not to tell the Dursleys about this hobby of his, as they didn't like him doing anything that they considered less than normal.

His favourite pieces were his army. When he was younger, Harry had had a nightmare about something living in his cupboard with him, in the dark. When he finally plucked up the courage to tell his Aunt and Uncle about it, they told him to stop being ridiculous and to try and dream of normal things. He had tried, but that night, he'd had the same dream again.

In the morning he had been terrified of telling his Aunt and Uncle it hadn't worked and so kept his mouth shut. Dudley had poked fun at him all day about being afraid of the dark, but they never even acknowledged that the nightmare had happened. As luck would have it, that same day Aunt Petunia had bought Dudley a brand new chess set. It had pieces shaped to look like wizards and dragons and Dudley had been ecstatic when he saw it. That excitement lasted about five minutes, until he was shown the complex rulebook that came with the game. He had immediately dived into one of his trademark tantrums and his parents had shoved the set into Harry's arms, telling him to take it out back and throw it away.

On the way to the bin, one of the pieces had fallen out of Harry's arms. As he bent to pick it up, he had stopped for a moment to admire it. It was in the form of an old man in green robes holding a long staff in one hand and a silver sword in the other. His face had been worked into a look of pure concentration and his eyes were solid white. Harry had thought that he brave and wise, braver and wiser than Harry could ever be. It was in this moment that Harry had an epiphany, perhaps he wasn't strong enough to keep the monsters away, but if he had an army, then he wouldn't need to be.

He had gathered as many of the pieces as he could fit in his pockets and smuggled them back to his cupboard, where he arranged them on the shelves around his bed. He didn't have the nightmare that night or any night after and he had continued building up his troops ever since. Even now, when he was old enough to know that there was no such thing as monsters, he still swiped the occasional toy soldier or model dragon from his cousin. It gave him comfort to know someone was watching over him while he slept.

Another of his favourites was his books. Technically, they were Dudley's books, but Dudley had never been much of a reader. Most of them had pages missing from where Dudley had ripped them out in his anger at not understanding the plot. Just like the soldiers for his army, Harry usually smuggled these away whenever he was told to throw them out.

He knew the Dursleys would be furious if they found him reading these books. It wasn't that they didn't want him to read, in fact he had always been encouraged to, but it was always non-fiction. For some reason, the Dursleys didn't want Harry watching or reading anything fictional, they didn't even like him having dreams about things which shouldn't happen. Harry had always wondered about that; they had absolutely no problem with Dudley watching cartoons or reading fantasy books, but for Harry it was something that would never even be considered.

That was why these story books were so precious to him, why he always got a thrill of excitement when he opened them, knowing he was breaking a fundamental rule of living with the Dursleys.

Harry scratched the back of his head and reached over to his right, unlocking the door and pushing it open. He climbed out and stretched as far as he could, savouring the open space. The door to his cupboard was in the main hallway of the house, under the stairs. There were actually four bedrooms in the Dursley house. One was for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one was reserved for guests and the last two were Dudley's, one for sleeping and one to store everything that didn't fit in his first bedroom. Harry had once asked his Aunt and Uncle why he had to sleep in a cupboard when there were two spare bedrooms he could use. They had given him a look which made him feel like an idiot and asked him why he thought Dudley should sacrifice his own personal space just so that Harry was more comfortable.

Harry had known for a long time that Dudley's needs were always far more important than his own. Dudley was their son, Harry was just the boy who lived in their cupboard. There had never been any misconceptions that the Dursleys were his parents, they had made it very clear early in his life that his parents were dead.

Harry knew very little about his parents. His Aunt and Uncle had never spoken of them to him after that first time, not even in passing. It would be easy to think that they hadn't known them at all. What they had told him was how they died. According to the Dursleys, his father had always been a reckless drunk and one day, when he'd had a bit too much to drink, he crashed his car, with Harry and his mother in it.

From what little information the Dursleys had given him, his parents sounded like the worst type of people, but Harry had never fully believed their story. He could never put his finger on it, but something in his gut told him there was more to it than that.

Shaking his head clear, he reached back into his cupboard and grabbed his school uniform. He then began to climb the stairs, taking great care not to wake any of his relatives, Dudley in particular. Vernon and Petunia would shout at him and give a smaller portion at mealtimes if he woke them, but Dudley would wait until they were at school, then drag him behind the bins and kick his stomach in.

He crept into the bathroom and closed the door softly behind him, before turning to face the mirror. The boy who looked back at him was small and thin, with unruly black hair and bright green eyes behind a pair of broken round-framed glasses. Harry had always been small for his age and his hair had never lain flat in his life. His glasses were split down the middle from the last time Dudley punched him in the face, the only thing holding them together was a few wrappings of Sellotape.

Harry had never really liked his appearance, it always got him strange looks at school or in the street, especially when he wore clothes made for a boy four-times his size. There was one feature which Harry did like about himself though. Stepping towards the mirror, he pushed back his fringe with one hand to reveal a thin scar on his forehead, shaped like a bolt of lightning. This scar was the oddest part of Harry's appearance and that was why he loved it. Since he was never allowed to associate himself with anything out of the ordinary, having such an unexplainable mark on his skin felt like a slap in his Aunt and Uncle's face.

He was quick in the bathroom; having a wash, brushing his teeth and pulling on his clothes, then tiptoeing back downstairs and heading into the living room. He took his regular spot on the floor, leaving the couch and armchair free for his relatives, and turned on the TV. He flicked through the channels until he found the news and settled back to watch. He may not be allowed to watch cartoons, but Vernon and Petunia were perfectly fine with him watching the news or a documentary.

At first, he had found both of them dreadfully boring, but after a while, he began to pay more attention and discovered that real stories could be just as interesting as made up ones. Not that it stopped him from reading Dudley's books in secret.

It was a good thirty minutes before Harry heard the tell-tale sound of Uncle Vernon's footsteps as he came downstairs. He didn't look up as his Uncle walked in the room, just as Vernon didn't seem to notice his nephew sat in the middle of the room. He simply strode over to his chair and fell into it with a sigh, gluing his eyes to the screen in front of him.

Neither of them spoke for a while, until Uncle Vernon asked, "Has the weather been on yet?"

Harry looked over at him. He was still staring at the TV. "They said it should be fine for most of the day," replied Harry, "But there might be some cloud this evening."

Vernon grunted in response, then said, "Anything interesting I should know about?"

Harry and Vernon had a system worked out. Whoever woke up first would turn on the news and watch the first few stories until the other came in. Then, the second person would ask first what the weather forecast said, then if anything interesting had happened. This was the one time of the day that Harry was given more attention than Dudley, it was also the only time Vernon allowed him to ask questions freely.

"Not much," said Harry, "Looks like the strikes are still going on, though"

Vernon finally looked at him through narrow eyes, "I said anything interesting, boy," he snapped, "What do I care if some train-driver's getting whiny. I assume that it was the underground again."

Harry nodded and Vernon snorted, "The lazy gits," he grumbled, "Always wanting more money for sitting around all day."

'Sounds like someone else I know,' Harry almost said, but he held his tongue. No matter how civil these morning conversations were, Vernon still did not appreciate cheek.

It wasn't long before Petunia could be heard making her way into the kitchen, which was followed by Vernon saying, "Boy, put the kettle on while your Aunt makes the breakfast."

Harry took this as a sign that their morning ritual was over and left in silence. As he entered the kitchen and opened the cupboard, his Aunt turned and snapped at him, "Don't forget my sugar," before turning back to the bacon in front of her.

'Oh, thanks,' Harry thought as he pulled out a couple of mugs, 'I never would've remembered that. It's not like I do this every morning.'

He quickly went through the process of making his relatives their tea and it was as he finished pouring the second cup that he heard the oncoming stampede of footsteps that heralded the arrival of his cousin. Harry looked over as Dudley came waddling through the door. In the past ten years Dudley Dursley had grown, in every sense of the word. Dudley had very little of his mother in him, aside from his tiny blue eyes and the shape of his nose. The rest came from Vernon, the large pink face, the thick blond hair and the even thicker head, the lack of any visible neck. He was wearing a set of extra-large blue pyjamas which were clearly too small for him.

Harry had often heard Aunt Petunia say Dudley looked like a baby angel. Harry thought that was very unlikely to be true, unless angels resembled overblown beach balls in wigs.

"There you are my Diddykins," said Petunia in a sickly sweet voice, "Hurry up and get dressed and ready for school, then you can have your breakfast."

Dudley's face scrunched up into a frown. "School?" he said, "But, I thought it was my birthday, why do I have to go today?"

"No sweetie," said Petunia, "That's tomorrow, remember. We're taking you out to the zoo."

That, if anything, made Dudley even more distressed. "But, that's not fair," he whined, "Why can't we just go today and still do my birthday tomorrow? I don't want to go to school today, I shouldn't have to."

"Yeah," muttered Harry under his breath, "Because your life is the one that isn't fair."

Unfortunately, Dudley heard him. He turned his fat head and scowled at Harry. "What was that Potter?"

Harry looked at his cousin, gave him the most fake smile he could and said, "I was just agreeing with you Diddykins, you really shouldn't have to go to school on your special day."

Dudley's face split into a broad grin, apparently he didn't hear the sarcasm. However, Aunt Petunia did and Harry watched her face twist into a scowl over Dudley's shoulder.

"Boy!" she spat, walking over to him and thrusting a tray of breakfast into his hands, "Be quiet and take this to your Uncle, then go and make the beds."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," he drawled.

As he left, Harry heard Dudley's protests start up again ten-fold. He smirked to himself. It really was too easy to set Dudley off and it could be hilarious if done properly. Despite his bit of fun, Harry was groaning inwardly while he went through his Aunt's tasks. He had completely forgotten about Dudley's birthday tomorrow, though he wasn't sure how, since Dudley had been mentioning it non-stop for two weeks. It meant that Dudley was probably going to be even more insufferable than usual at school today, his tiny brain might even have worked out Harry's insult by then as well, which would be very bad news.

Once Harry had finished his morning chores and eaten the smallest of the four plates of bacon and eggs, he climbed into Uncle Vernon's car outside, ready to go. From the back seat, he watched and chuckled as Dudley fought off his mother's kisses. Uncle Vernon shot a scowl back at him and he quieted immediately, giving the big man an innocent smile. Vernon grunted and opened the door for Dudley to pile himself in.

On the way to school, very little happened, aside from Dudley complaining about his birthday a lot and Vernon complaining about other drivers even more. Harry spent the journey listening to the radio, which was going on about a court case he had seen on the news a few days ago.

It wasn't long before the car pulled up outside the gates and Harry and Dudley jumped out. Uncle Vernon shouted at Dudley to be good and fixed Harry with a hard stare which said the same, before driving off. Once the car was out of sight around the corner, Harry instantly felt something hit him on his back and fell to his knees. He looked up and saw Dudley stood over him, a big stupid grin on his big stupid face. It was obvious that he had pushed him.

"See you at break Potter," he cackled, before running off towards class or as close to running as Dudley could get anyway.

Harry pushed himself to his feet and straightened his glasses, then followed after his idiot of a cousin. Harry knew what would be happening at break. It was a little game that Dudley and his friends had made up called Harry-Hunting. Harry was not popular at school. Firstly, because of how he looked; the broken glasses and scruffy clothes didn't win him any points. Then, there was the purely non-fiction diet the Dursleys had given him; nobody wanted to hang around with the kid who didn't know who Peter Pan was, but could tell you all about what happened on the news last night.

The last reason was Dudley. Since their first day, Dudley had singled Harry out as a target and nobody wanted to get on Dudley's bad side. He and his gang were well known as the meanest kids on the playground. There were lots of people who had tried to latch onto Dudley over the years, but the main four remained the same. First, there was Dudley, who was the biggest and baddest, which made him the leader, despite the fact that he was probably the stupidest as well. Then, there was Gordon, who was like Dudley, but with the edges filed down slightly and a few extra brain cells stuck in his head to compensate for the weight loss. Next, was Piers, the scrawny one who looked like a rat. Since he was the fastest, he was normally the one to chase people down and hold them still while the other two caught up. Lastly, there was Dennis, the lookout. When you saw Dennis hanging around by some shady corner, chances were that some poor kid was getting his lunch stolen a few feet away.

The first part of the day was nothing special, just the regular Literacy work they did every day. Harry was always careful not to overachieve in the creative writing tasks; he didn't want Dudley telling Uncle Vernon that he actually had an imagination.

Then came break time. The time for Dudley's group to pick a target. Harry was their usual choice, of course, but sometimes they went for easier pickings instead. After years of running from Dudley both inside and outside of school, not only was Harry incredibly fast, he was also a superb climber. It was rare for them to catch Harry these days, which meant that more and more people were becoming targets for Dudley. Just one more reason people hated Harry.

Currently, Harry was at the far edge of the yard, near the sports field where they did PE. Across from him were Dudley's group.

Even if Dudley hadn't tipped him off this morning, Harry would still have known the group was coming for him today. It had been too long since the last Harry-Hunt and, as if that wasn't enough, the boys were staring straight at him from across the yard, not even trying to hide it.

Harry observed them discretely, without letting them notice he was watching. 'Looks like it's the whole foursome,' he observed, 'without any of their fans for once, that's- wait a minute, that's not Piers.' He turned his head for a better look. He was right, that was most definitely not the rat-boy, it was one of their newest fans, Michael or Martin something or other.

'But, if Piers isn't there then-'

Harry stepped to the side and spun around. Piers was not far away, hands outstretched as he crept up on Harry from behind. There was a moment where the two looked each other dead in the eye, then Harry bolted. The hunt was on.

Harry knew exactly what the gang would do, he probably had more brain power than all of them put together. They would try to herd him around the back of the school, into the little alcove on the far side where the bins were. Piers and the new guy would chase him from behind, the long way around, while Dudley and Gordon would waddle their way around the other side and wait to block him off, meanwhile Dennis would pretend to have hurt his ankle and draw the teacher away. It probably would have been a good plan, if Harry hadn't seen it used a hundred times already.

This time, instead of running a different way and screwing everything up right off the bat, he decided to do it with style. After all, it wasn't every day you got to mess up your cousin's big birthday hunt.

He did everything they wanted; he led Piers and the groupie around the school and dove straight for the alcove when he encountered Dudley's roadblock. He stopped when faced with the bare wall and turned to look at the group, leaning back against the building behind him.

The space was small, with only a narrow opening between the bins and the wall and no other way out except the locked door to the storeroom. The opening was currently blocked by four idiots.

"Hey Dudders," Harry greeted warmly, as though they were old friends, "Fancy seeing you here."

"You think you're so smart Potter," said Dudley, "But look who's the smart one now."

"Yeah, you caught me, so remind me why aren't you breaking my face right now?" asked Harry.

Dudley smirked and Gordon piped up, "This isn't about you four-eyes."

"Yeah," said Dudley, "This is an in-ee-shee-shon."

Harry looked at him blankly, "A what-ee-shon?"

Dudley frowned and tried to form the word with his mouth, "An ini-shee-shion... ini-shia-shion-"

"Initiation?" offered Harry.

"Yeah," said Dudley, gesturing frantically, "That, the ini-thingy."

"What, for your boyfriend over there?" said Harry, nodding at the new kid behind him, "What's his name again, Margaret?"

"It's Malcolm," said Margaret, through gritted teeth.

"We like him," said Dudley, "We think he's a cool guy, but we think needs to have a Harry-Hunt as well."

"Well, I am honoured," said Harry, "Really, it is such an honour to be your favourite punching bag, but I'm not going to just stand here and let you knock my teeth out."

"What are you gonna do to stop us Potter," sneered Piers.

Harry smirked and pushed off the wall, running straight at them. He could see the surprise on their faces as four tiny brains tried to work out what he was going to accomplish with this move. While they stood around in confusion, Harry planted his foot on the side of the bins and pulled himself up and over in a vault.

He landed upright behind the boys and wasted no time in sprinting back to the yard. He heard the bell ring for the end of break just as he turned the corner and saw the rest of his class filing back inside. He quietly joined the line and followed them in, throwing a smug smile at the dumbstruck look on Dennis' face on his way past.

The next lesson was Numeracy, which Harry wasn't half bad in. It didn't really matter though, as the Dursleys never even looked at his marks.

It was at lunchtime that Harry started to think that perhaps humiliating Dudley hadn't been the best idea. Dudley wouldn't go to his parents about this. Normally, cry-to-mummy was the first card he pulled on Harry, but he never used it in a Harry-Hunt. This was a personal feud between the two boys and it was his birthday as well. Harry knew that he wouldn't be getting a tongue-lashing or a stay in the cupboard for this; he'd be getting a trademark, Dudley Dursley beating.

Harry was pretty sure that his Aunt and Uncle knew about the beatings, but if they did, then they didn't care. They hardly ever seemed to care about anything concerning Harry, whether it was good or bad.

Once school was over, he decided that his only option was to stay out of sight until Uncle Vernon showed up to get them, then make a dash for the car before Dudley could find him. That was how Harry found himself sat in a tree not far from where his Uncle usually came for them. He knew Dudley would be too stupid to look in a tree for him, so all he had to do was wait.

"Ow- ah, stop it! That's- ow!"

Harry turned at the noise. It was a girl's voice and it was coming from behind him somewhere. He carefully picked his way through the branches until he was peering out through the leaves.

There, not far away, was Dudley's gang. They were surrounding a small girl, probably a couple of years younger than Harry. Dudley had hold of her by one blond pigtail, while the newbie, Malcolm, held the other.

"Please, get off," begged the girl. Harry didn't need to see her face to know there were tears in her eyes.

"But they're pretty, remember," said Dudley in a mocking baby voice, "That's what you said wasn't it, that they make you feel pretty? You're right, they are very nice. I think I want them for myself."

He gave the hair in his hand another sharp tug and the girl cried out in pain. Harry winced and pulled back, resting his head against a nearby limb, trying to get his anger under control. His entire body wanted to go down there right now and make Dudley back off, but his mind was rebelling, telling him to stay, no it was screaming at him to stay.

'But, she needs help,' he protested.

'No, you stay here. It's not worth it,'

'But, I've been there before, I know what it's like-'

'Exactly! Do you really want to end up there again? You had a plan, stick to your-'

"No! No, stop- ow!"

The new shrieks of fright caught Harry's attention and shook him free of his internal debate. He twisted again and looked out at the scene below. Most of the boys had moved back now, so it was just Dudley and Malcolm holding the girl. Her eyes were fixed on something in Dudley's hand. Harry squinted at it. It was something metal and glittered in the afternoon sun.

"I told you," said Dudley, his buddies cheering him on in the background, "I think they're pretty. It's like when you see a pretty little flower and you just want to pick it for yourself. That's all this is."

It suddenly clicked in Harry's head. Dudley was holding a pair of scissors. He was threatening to cut off this poor girl's pigtails for his own amusement. Now that everyone had backed off, Harry could finally see her face. He could see the fear and powerlessness in her eyes.

Harry looked at his cousin's smug, stupid face and felt a hot, dark anger swell inside him. He had only felt like this a few times before and it had never ended well, but he didn't care. The only thing he cared about was that his cousin was selfish, his cousin was stupid, he was arrogant, he was a bully, he was-

Screaming.

Harry blinked in surprise and felt the rage leave him as fast as it had come. The scissors in Dudley's hand, which had shone silver a moment ago, were now glowing bright orange while his cousin screamed in pain. Dudley threw the offending metal to the floor and everyone watched in amazement as the grass around it burst into flames. The metal began to sag and lose its shape, slowly turning into a molten orange puddle. It continued to get hotter and hotter, slowly burning itself away until nothing was left but a bare patch of charred earth.

The boys' fingers went limp in shock and the little girl managed to twist her way free, running out of sight as fast as she could. The five boys carried on staring dumbly at the spot where the scissors had been, but Harry was already moving back to the other side of his tree. His breathing was ragged and his eyes were wide while he tried to process what had just happened.

He was so shaken that he nearly missed Uncle Vernon's car pull up nearby. Trying desperately to compose himself and steady his breathing, Harry slipped out of the tree quietly and made his way to the car as fast as he dared, all the while hoping- no, praying that Dudley didn't see him. He opened the door and slid smoothly into the back seat letting out a short sigh, before closing his eyes and trying to calm himself down. He had almost gotten a handle on himself by the time Dudley fell into the front seat. His face was ashen and he looked exactly how Harry felt at that moment.

"Dudley?" said Uncle Vernon, sounding concerned, "Are you all right, son?"

"'M fine," he mumbled, "Just, want to go home now."

Harry tried hard to keep his face blank as his Uncle gave him a piercing stare through the mirror, 'It wasn't my fault, it couldn't have been.'

He wasn't sure why he kept lying to himself like that.

The truth was, strange things tended to happen a lot around Harry. He had no idea why, but whenever he felt a strong surge of emotion, things just happened. He didn't know how else to explain it, mostly because he didn't understand it himself. He just knew that whatever it was had something to do with him.

One time, Aunt Petunia had decided to cut off all of his hair so that she didn't have to battle with it every morning. He had been almost completely bald afterwards, except for the fringe, which she left to cover his scar. He had been so scared and embarrassed about going to school the next morning that he had gone to sleep nearly crying that night. When he woke up the next day, his hair was back and more untameable than ever.

Another time, he had been in his Literacy class and one of his teachers trying to find out why his marks had suddenly become so poor. The teacher was soft, but firm about it and kept asking if someone was bullying or teasing him about it. Harry had slowly gotten more and more frustrated at not being able to tell him about the Dursleys and the teacher had begun to push harder and harder every time Harry shut him out. The tension between them just kept rising, until suddenly the whole atmosphere changed and the entire class burst into laughter. Somehow, in the midst of his interrogation of Harry, the man's dull brown hair had become a bright electric blue. He had run from the room in horror and hadn't bothered Harry ever again.

The worst time had to be when Harry was running from Dudley and his gang two years ago. They had chased him around back just like today and he had attempted to dive over the bins and into the alcove. He didn't quite remember how he'd ended up on the roof of the school, just that one moment he was running scared, the next he was sat looking down at the four bullies from above.

It was these moments that earned Harry his worst punishments from the Dursleys. Normally, they ignored him except to give him chores and gave him neither scolding nor praise for his actions, but this was the big exception. No matter how many times he insisted that he had no clue as to what was going on, they always treated him like it was his fault. Usually, it meant a long stay in the cupboard with no meals, only being let out to go to the toilet.

Harry knew that he couldn't talk his way out of these punishments. The only way of avoiding them was to not let his Aunt and Uncle find out that anything unnatural had happened, hence why Harry was pleading to the world not to let Dudley have noticed him.

Once they got back home, Harry spent dinner picking at his food nervously. He went about all of his chores without complaint and didn't ask any questions, trying as hard as he could to become invisible. While he washed the dishes however, he overheard a conversation between his Aunt and Uncle.

"Vernon, it's bad news I'm afraid," said Petunia, "Mrs Figg's broken her leg. She won't be able to take him tomorrow."

Harry stopped midway through wiping a plate and pricked his ears up. It didn't take a genius to work out that they were talking about him.

"Bloody hell, what are we going to do with him now then?" grumbled Vernon.

"What about Marge?" said Petunia.

"No, no, she hates the boy. I doubt that he'd make it back in one piece," replied Vernon.

'Like you care,' thought Harry acidly.

"Well we can't leave him here, who knows what state he'll leave the place in," said Petunia, "We could take him with us and leave him in the car."

"I'm not leaving him alone in my car," snapped Vernon, "Surely there's somewhere we can send him."

The rest of the discussion was too quiet for Harry to make out, but he'd heard enough. He could feel the first flutters of excitement rising in his heart. Did he even dare to hope, that maybe this year-

"Boy!"

Harry started at his Uncle's voice and spun around quickly. Vernon beckoned him over and led him into the hall, away from Petunia. Once outside the cupboard, his Uncle turned to him and jabbed one fat finger in his face.

"I want you to listen very closely, boy," he spat.

Harry nodded, not quite trusting his voice at the moment.

"Your Aunt and I have decided to take you with us tomorrow," Vernon said, though it sounded like he had trouble forcing the words out.

Harry's heart leapt and he had to fight the urge to break out into a grin. 'I'm going to the zoo!' he thought ecstatically.

"But," snapped Vernon, "While we're there you need to follow my rules, understood?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry. He didn't care what the rules were, he'd take the zoo over Mrs Figg's any day.

Vernon nodded, "First, if Dudley or his friend want to do something, you stay well out of their way, it'll be like you're not even there."

'Just like every day then,' Harry nodded

"Second, you're not to ask any questions or speak to anyone at the zoo. This is Dudley's day, you're just there so that we can keep an eye on you."

'Yeah, I know how to act like I don't exist, it's not exactly the first time,' Harry nodded.

"And finally, I want nothing- and I mean nothing, abnormal to happen. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir," he replied.

Uncle Vernon narrowed his eyes, "Dudley came home with a burn on his hand today. It was nothing serious, but he wouldn't tell us where it came from. He was acting very strange all this afternoon too."

Harry tried not to blink as Vernon continued to point at him violently, "If I get even the slightest whiff of any funny business while we're out tomorrow, then I swear you'll wish you'd never been dropped on our doorstep."

Harry didn't respond and let Vernon turn and walk back into the kitchen. He sighed and followed him. He knew there was no point in trying to convince any of them that he wasn't the cause of the funny business. Even after the speech, Harry's spirits remained high. He couldn't wait to see the look on Dudley's face tomorrow.