Disclaimer: my name is not JK Rowling; I do not own Harry Potter. I am simply stealing her characters and settings to make my own crappy story. That's all, have a nice day.
Of shimmers and tingles
"Wake up, boy!!!!" was the first thing that Harry heard when he awoke the next morning. Slowly sitting up, he tried to stretch the kinks out of his muscles. The cupboard was slowly beginning to feel more and more cramped with every passing day, and young Harry had noticed.
Fumbling with his belt and trying to brush his hair out of his eyes, he pushed open the door and blinked his eyes against the assault of light that greeted him. Slowly growing accustomed to the light, he slinked down the hallway as Uncle Vernon yelled again. "Get in here you lazy boy! I want my breakfast right away!"
"Yes Uncle Vernon," Harry replied in his quiet voice. He figured that he better do what was asked of him, lest his uncle get mad and take out his anger on him.
Quickly pulling out the pan and setting it on the stove, Harry went to find the bacon. On his way back to the stove, his aunt hurriedly made her way into the kitchen, yelling at Harry as she almost ran into him.
"You stupid boy, get out of my way! And where is my breakfast?!"
"I'm almost done Aunt Petunia"
Setting her plate onto the table, Harry went to go clean the dishes. Behind him, Uncle Vernon gruffly cleared his throat. "Boy, we will be going shopping today. We are going to leave you with that woman... what is her name? Mrs. Pear?"
"Figg, dear, Mrs. Figg," Petunia corrected her husband with a sweet smile.
"Yeah, well, you will be staying with her for the day, and I expect you to behave and don't do anything abnormal."
It was musty, and smelled like cat food, and there were cats all over the place. The Dursley's had just dropped Harry off at Mrs. Figgs house for the day. Mrs. Figg was nice, but she was also very eccentric and old. She had gone off to the kitchen right away, muttering about how skinny he was and how she would "fatten him up".
A while later, Mrs. Figg walked out with a piece of chocolate cake for him. Taking a bite, Harry imagined that if you could taste her house, it would taste like the cake did- old, kind of dry, and stale. Swallowing down the urge to throw the cake out, he gave a polite smile and continued eating the cake.
Mrs. Figg had shown Harry all of her photo albums, and they were all of her, and her cats. Harry didn't know what to do, he did not want to be rude, but he really did not care about her cats. Deciding that it would be easier to sneak out the next time she went into the other room, he nodded to himself. It was the only way he could escape.
As Mrs. Figg disappeared into the kitchen, he slowly got up and walked to the door. Checking again that she was in the other room, he made a run for it, throwing open the door and quietly shutting it behind him as he started to run in the direction of the park. No one would be there right now, and Dudley and his friends could not make fun of Harry or throw sand in his eyes.
Once at the park, Harry could not decide what to do. He never got the chance to play on the swings, but he did not want to right then. He actually wanted to go rest under one of the trees.
Walking over to it, the old oak did not look particularly extraordinary, but Harry felt something from it. It reminded him of how he felt when he slept wrong on one of his arms, all shimmery and tingly feeling. As he reached the tree, he put his hand out and touched the rough bark. He could feel it, something surging through his veins. Looking again at the tree with wide eyes, Harry felt, rather than saw, how old this tree was. Oddly enough, Harry felt strangely safe and comforted under the leafy canopy. His eyes started to droop, and it took the rest of his energy to lay down before he tripped, rather than fell, into a deep sleep.