A/N 1 Jun 2009: Hi everyone! I hope all my readers realize that this story IS definitely going to be different, and that it's only the first chapter that is mostly the same. You'll see after you read a bit more with this chapter…but it probably won't be evident until chapters 4 and 5. Thanks for sticking around!
A/N 13 Jun 2009: Hey guys! Sorry about the long wait. I actually had this all written up, but finals came around and…you know. I'm not the most dependable person. I hope this doesn't disappoint. I really appreciate everyone who added or reviewed. Thanks to: jayley, LadyGaelen, panther73110, phoenixi77, abillingy, power214063, Jessalynvix, jabarber69, Snuggalette, jesusfreak100percent, BlackPhoenixMage, krr84, Bratling, SeulWolfe, MoonBunnyPrincess, Chakahlah, Ishikawa-san, lilyp 90, LadyAlston, Kino Wolfie Head, Zanthia2, Relvain Jenafuse, Blue1eyes, TimFitz21, 3abzorno, Silver Twilight's Moon, bargavl, hillbrodeur, hillbrodeur, DreamsRemorse, animeangel088, odepotmike, dodo-HP, vnienhuis, kristaphoenix, olly86, BigD2k, Rental Brain, Knyghtshade, zindiq, deathxofxthexbetrayed, Aiko819, siela14, fairytopian, Badenwill, jueru2003, kitten7315, Hkokuryuha, The Blackest Night, coolkl93, shihimesama
A/N 23 Jun 2009: I know, too many Author's Notes. Annoying. But I still need a beta! I had a few before, but stuff came up and none of them actually edited anything…-mutters- I'll keep looking, but if any of you have recommendations…? Well, here goes the first real new chapters. Leave a review!
Chapter Two: Life at the Dursleys'
A skinny-looking boy of about eight years of age sat on a coverless mattress, blinking slowly. His vivid green eyes reflected the small glimmers of light filtering down from cracks in the ceiling, glinting slightly even though the only light bulb in his cramped living space was broken. In the dimness, one could just barely catch the raven-black color of his hair and the bagginess of his too-large clothes. The quietness of his owlish stare was disturbed by loud stomping noises, followed by a cloud of dust which descended on his head. Harry fumbled in the darkness until his small, skinny fingers grasped a pair of crooked, duct-taped-together glasses. His cupboard door swung sharply open just as he slid his glasses onto his face and a pointy, rigid woman poked her head in.
"Get up!" she snapped, tossing a pile of clean but certainly unfitting clothes at him and shutting the door quickly, as if afraid of contamination or revolted by his presence.
Harry quickly grabbed the clothes and slipped them on, adjusting his glasses on his face. Nudging the door carefully, he pushed it aside only to have it slammed back at him, raucous Dudley-laughter filling his ears. Sighing, Harry opened his cupboard door again and went into the dining room, head down and shoulder hunched.
"Sit," a pudgy man commanded, staring at Harry suspiciously as Harry brought a plate of bacon he cooked over to the table. "Boy, you better listen carefully." Harry's gaze flicked up to his uncle's face before Harry looked away again. "Today is Dudley's first day of third grade and you better not mess it up for him. Don't make trouble and don't talk to anyone. If I hear of anything…" Vernon Dursley narrowed his eyes and snorted contemptuously.
Petunia, the woman made of all sharp angles, pushed the whole plate of bacon at Dudley and encouraged the boy to eat.
Vernon frowned at Harry again. "Don't forget, you're not to say anything about your freakish family. Nothing, understood? They died in a car accident and that was that." Vernon paused. "Not even your last name, you hear? As far as I'm concerned, the Potters do not exist. Nothing! Say nothing about it!"
"Yes Uncle," Harry muttered, pretending to be fascinated with a square on the tablecloth. Harry reached up and adjusted his glasses again.
When they finally arrived at school Vernon patted Dudley on the Head and Petunia dabbed at invisible tears.
"Go get them, son," Vernon said gruffly, very proud of his large song.
Vernon then turned to frown at Harry. "No funny business, understood? I better not hear anything about you. Anything!"
Harry nodded mutely and scampered out of the car. The moment he shut the door, the shiny black sedan he had taken to school zoomed off, leaving Harry alone. Harry walked slowly toAs the entrance of the school, taking in everything that was the same as last year. He was woken out of him musings by a tap on the shoulder, and when he turned around, saw Dudley.
"Gimme your lunch, freak," Dudley said, holding out a pudgy hand.
Harry shook his head.
"Give it to me! I saw you making it! It looks better than mine, and I want it! Gimme!" Dudley was about to grab Harry's backpack and run for it, when someone else spoke.
"Is there a problem here?" A kind voice asked. Harry looked up and saw a middle-aged man with light brown hair.
"He took my lunch!" Dudley whined, pouting and pointing at Harry. "I want it back."
"No," Harry said. "I didn't." He stared at Dudley with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Dudley always got his way, and teachers never believed the little scrawny boy anyways.
"Why don't we come in to my classroom to figure this out, alright?" the man asked, guiding them towards the school.
"No!" Dudley complained, stamping his foot, "I want it back NOW!"
The man frowned slightly, but the expression quickly disappeared.
"Are you Mr. Black?" Harry asked suddenly. The man looked at him in mild surprise.
"Why, yes. Are you two going to be my third graders?"
"I want my lunch back!" Dudley said loudly, annoyed with being ignored. "He stole my lunch."
Mr. Black held up his hand. "Relax. Your lunch isn't going to disappear. Both of you, take everything out of your backpacks and put them on the table."
Dudley's face turned an ugly shade of frustrated puce. "I just want my lunch!" Dudley pointed at the brown paper bag Harry pulled out of his backpack.
"It's mine," Harry said, frowning at Dudley. "You have one already."
Dudley reached out the grab Harry's lunch sack but Mr. Black held out an arm to stop him.
"Dudley, is it?" Mr. Black smiled warmly. "Take everything out of your backpack, please."
Dudley grudgingly shook his backpack upside down, shiny new notebooks, pencils and markers falling out along with a cool blue metal lunch box.
Mr. Black glanced at Harry's ruffled, worn booklets and his used erasers before picking up Dudley's lunchbox, proudly labeled "Dudley Dursley."
"It's very bad to lie, Dudley." Mr. Black sighed. "It's even worse to falsely accuse someone else."
Harry looked up at his new teacher in surprise, adoration in his eyes. "Thank you, Mr. Black."
Harry adjusts his glasses when he's mad, but trying to hide it.
