A little, scrawny boy was sitting outside in the furthest corner of the school yard to the rest of the students. He was sitting alone at the base of a tree, pondering which adventures his friends would go on next. His friends were only those that existed in his mind and in his cupboard. He'd long ago come to terms that he wouldn't have any actual friends, his cousin had truly taken care of that for him. After all, who would want to be friends with a 'freak.'
He had it all worked out. His friends found out that they were special and they weren't punished for it. They had fantastic grades, the teachers liked them, they had friends that played with them, and they had family that loved them. He was happy for his only friends to have such wonderful experiences exactly the opposite of his.
Hearing the thundering crunch of his cousin's boot on the nearby gravel made the boy's head shoot up.
"Hey Freak! What are you doing out here all by your freaky self?" His cousin shouted, his two cronies nodding nearby. "I bet you're up to no good! I bet you're planning on doing something freaky again like you did last week!"
The group of boys menacingly advanced on the tiny boy with bright emerald eyes.
"We're going to stop you before you do anything freaky ever again," said his cousin's largest and most intimidating crony, Piers Polkiss.
"What's going on here?" questioned the little boy's unlikely saviour. Miss Mabon was the nicest teacher at Little Whinging Public School. She was shorter compared to many other teachers and students, though much taller than the little boy. She had light brown hair, a welcoming and heartfelt smile with little dimples, and light blue eyes hiding behind small lenses.
"He started it by throwing rocks at us!" Shouted the little boy's cousin.
"Then I trust you will be moving on," replied Miss Mabon. With that the boys hurriedly departed back to the safety of others in the school yard.
"Harry, what have I told you about sitting on your own? You should go out and make some friends during your lunch break."
"I know," the little boy smiled. "I try to but they don't want to talk to me. That's alright though, I'm just happy to come to school."
"Alright Harry. I think it's almost time for class now anyway, so off you go!" Miss Mabon watched as the little boy followed her directions obediently, making note to contact his relatives to ensure everything was alright at home.
As soon as Harry arrived back at number 4 Privet Drive, he knew something was wrong. The house was silent, and the front door was locked shut. Cautiously, he walked towards the back gate to see if he could get inside through the back door, just as his relatives got home.
"Boy! Wait there! You're in trouble Boy!" Harry's Uncle yelled. As he came closer, he grabbed onto Harry's arm, dragging him out of the neighbours sight. "Dudders told me all about how ungrateful you are for everything we provide; a roof over your head, food in your stomach, and you don't deserve a single part of it! How dare you make him look bad in front of a teacher!"
By this time, the pair were at the back door and heading inside.
"And Boy, that Miss Martin or whatever her name is called to check on you," Harry's Uncle said to him as he was thrown into his cupboard. As the bolt clicked shut his Uncle finished "If she calls again, you will regret it, Boy."
Once again, Harry was locked in his safe haven. Curled up in a ball to protect him from the outside world full of monsters and mean people. Wanting to only seek the company of his friends from the safe confines of his mind, he let his imagination take control, spinning the threads of stories of his friend's lives into an intrinsic network of adventures, wants and wishes. Although the serenity only lasted an hour, it was all that the small boy who was starved for positive attention needed to face the chores of the night that were to be inflicted on him.
When the time came his Aunt called him into the kitchen to begin cooking and preparing dinner. At the tender age of 8, Harry's slight body barely stood shoulder height with the bench he was diligently working at. One of his very few pleasures was his cooking, he had quite a bit of practice over the years to perfect his technique.
Soon after his relative's dinner was prepared, he moved onto cleaning the upstairs rooms. He dusted the rooms, straightened out both of Dudley's rooms, and cleaned the main bathroom and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's ensuite, before making sure he was back downstairs in time to wash the dishes after his relatives had finished eating the dinner he prepared earlier. Usually it would be about this time he was fed a small portion of the dinner he prepared, or at the very least, a slice of bread and water. Tonight was different though.
"Boy, come here," ordered Harry's Uncle. "You were trouble for poor Dudders, and his friends, and you made the teacher call here asking after your wellbeing. What did you tell her?"
"I didn't say anything Uncle Vernon. I don't know why she called, I swear!"
"Don't lie to me you little freak!" Vernon yelled, his face beginning to turn a dark shade of puce. "Now tell me exactly what you told her!"
"But Uncle, I didn't tell her anything. Honest!" Harry responded defensively, and began backing up towards his cupboard under the stairs. "I only said that I was happy to be at school!"
"So you're a liar and a freak. I told you we should never have taken him in, Petunia. Just a good-for-nothing like his parents!" Vernon claimed, advancing towards a frightened Harry. He grabbed Harry's arm, twisted it behind the boy's back until he heard a crack, and pushed his nephew into the dark cupboard hard, before closing the door and locking it.
Harry's arm was causing him such excruciating pain that he quickly blacked out.