If you're new here and find these early chapters are formatted/laid out better than the future chapters, don't worry - I'm getting there! All my older stories are getting a once over, whether just to make them flow a little easier or to correct glaring errors. Who knows!

This chapter is introducing Harry, and I'm sure you all know that part of the story. Next chapter will be Hogwarts - Harry and Vlad meeting each other!

-YDHP-

Harry Potter woke up to nothing unusual. His rather worryingly overweight cousin, Dudley, was banging at the door and bleating about it being his birthday. Harry got up and dressed, pulling a spider off his clean socks. Harry slept in the cupboard under the stairs, so spiders were a common occurrence.

Rubbing a hand through his scruffy black hair, Harry pulled on his round glasses and walked out of the cupboard. His aunt Petunia, a skinny woman with a horse-like neck, set him to work cooking the breakfast for she, Dudley and his uncle, Vernon. Vernon was clearly the cloth from which Dudley was cut, a large man with very little neck and a grumpy temper. And a large, bushy moustache he frequently got bits of egg stuck in.

As Harry distributed breakfast, his aunt allowed him the smallest, most charred rashers of bacon and one slice of bread. Washing down his pitiful breakfast with a glass of water, Harry returned to making fresh tea and coffee and refilling the glasses of orange juice. Dudley was eagerly counting his mountain of birthday gifts, then loudly whining he had one less than last year - an unacceptable thing apparently. As Harry had gotten a coathanger and a pair of socks for his last birthday and a mop for christmas, he didn't really understand Dudley's issue.

His aunt swooped in then, assuring Dudley they would buy him two new presents when they were out. Harry was invited along for this birthday outing, solely because his usual babysitter Mrs. Figg (an elderly woman with lots of cats and even more pictures of cats) had broken her leg tripping over one of her cats, and as such couldn't watch him.

Harry was almost disappointed, Mrs Figg may push pictures of cats on him frequently and her house may smell unpleasant, but she would often sneak him slices of chocolate cake and let him choose the television programme occasionally.

Noticing a splatter of bacon grease on his t-shirt, Harry went to change into a clean, fresh hand-me-down. Dudley was easily three times the width of him, his t-shirts and jeans from a year ago swamping Harry's underdeveloped, malnourished frame.

His trainers were mercifully the right size, but faded, worn and the laces were frayed. Tying them up carefully, Harry turned to rejoin his family.

Harry Potter had no parents, because they had died in a car accident when he was only a year old. His aunt had begrudgingly taken him in, then she and his uncle determined to make his existence as miserable as possible.

Harry had no memories of his parents, and his aunt - his mothers sister - had no pictures of her. The only remnant of the accident remained in a lightning-bolt shaped scar on Harry's forehead. And Harry himself.

His uncle griped that Harry needed a haircut again, the same way he did at least three times a week. Harry couldn't explain his hair, it simply grew back no matter what, and he must have had more haircuts than all the boys in his class put together. His aunt had even set on it with scissors, hacking it in to uneven clumps apart from his fringe to "hide that horrible scar". Harry had cried himself to sleep that night at the thought of going to school like that.

Yet, in the morning, it had all grown back again. He'd been denied meals for two days for that, but he couldn't explain it. What did they think he had done? Stuck it back on with glue?

Dudley Dursley was the polar opposite of Harry. A spoilt brat, exceptionally overweight and well fed, a gang of friends as violent and spoiled as he. His chubby face was rounded off with short blonde hair, similar to his fathers before it had started turning an ashy gray. Dudley had every computer, toy and gadget he had ever asked for, and he'd grown bored with almost every single one within minutes before discarding it.

There was a second bedroom next to Dudley's actual bedroom, and it was solely dedicated to all the toys Dudley never used. All that, and Harry still slept in the cupboard under the stairs, worrying one day Dudley and his bulk would break the stairs and he would crash-land on top of Harry.

His uncle pulled him aside before they got into the car.

"Any funny business, any at all, and you won't have any meals for a week!"

Harry nodded mutely, knowing what his uncle meant. No strange occurrences, which seemed to follow Harry around. He didn't know why strange things happened to him, or around him. They just did. Like the time Harry had been sent home with a note one day from school, stating he'd turned his teachers wig blue. Just by touching it. Another time it had been climbing school property. Harry hadn't climbed a thing, he'd been trying to hide from Dudley's gang of "Harry Hunters" and attempted to jump behind a large bin. Next thing he knew, he was on top of the kitchen roof.

His day was already off to a bad start, he'd had the dream last night. The one that always made him wake up sweating in fear, though he didn't know why. It was just alot of green light and a high, cold laugh. Sometimes Harry thought he heard screaming, but he always woke up so scared he couldn't be sure it wasn't his own screaming. Though he had learnt years ago not to wake his relatives up with screams - he had the fractured ribs to show for it.

After he'd managed to get back to sleep, Harry had dreamt of a flying motorcycle. As his uncle was screaming at a motorist on a motorcycle, Harry had accidentally let slip he'd dreamt of a flying one. His uncle, apparently forgetting they were on a busy road, had turned to him with a purpling face and screamed "motorcycles don't fly".

Harry kept quiet after that, while uncle Vernon complained about his favourite things to complain about. Harry, other drivers, Harry, petrol prices, Harry, the buskers at the roadside and of course, Harry. As soon as they pulled up at the zoo, Dudley demanded an ice cream, and the woman had asked what Harry wanted before the Dursleys could hurry him away. They bought him a cheap lemon ice lolly, and Harry licked at it happily while they wondered around the animals. He didn't get sweet things often, so it was still a treat to him.

Lunch had been Harry with the smallest, cheapest meal they had while Dudley polished off enough junk food for four children. However, Dudley had complained his ice cream wasn't big enough and got another one, and Harry was allowed to finish the first one. Stomach more pleasantly full than it had been in a long time, Harry had followed the Dursleys to the reptile enclosure.

A large burmese python was snoozing in a glass tank, which Harry ambled over to while Dudley's fat face pressing against a screen sadly seperating him from some poisonous scorpions. The python began stirring, probably from Dudley crowing loudly about how he wanted this or that as a pet to scare people. Harry waved at the snake before feeling silly, looking around to check nobody had noticed. Dudley had already scared plenty of people off, so there were relatively few people left in here. Turning back to the snake, he was surprised to find it regarding him intently. Probably wondering if he'd make a good meal. Harry was not thrilled at the idea of being snake food.

Turning, he saw Dudley shoving a small girl out of his way to stare at some tarantulas (Harry knew first hand he was only doing that because they were enclosed, Dudley would never touch a spider). Wishing he could genuinely say he didn't know the large bully child, Harry turned back to the snake.

"Sorry about him, he's less intelligent than every animal here."

The snake had lifted his head then, moving it up and down in a rhythmic fashion Harry would have called nodding if he could.

"Ssssay no more human, I have sssseen many sssstrange onessss."

Blinking in shock, Harry pinched himself. Not dreaming. The snake had spoken to him. Dudley charged over then, knocking Harry to the floor with a solid punch to his ribs and he fell painfully to the floor. Glaring at Dudley, Harry was more surprised than most to see the glass beneath Dudley's hands disappear.

Dudley fell into the snakes pool with a loud splash, and the enormous python slowly slithered out. It was easily big enough to wrap around uncle Vernons car and crush it into scrap, and Harry pulled his knees in and attempted to look as small and unappetising as possible. The snake slithered past him, stopping to hiss "thankssss" as he escaped.

Other people were screaming, aunt Petunia almost beside herself as Dudley somehow ended up trapped behind the reappeared glass. Uncle Vernon approached Harry with a venomous look in his eyes, and Harry was suddenly far more afraid of him that he had been of the python. The zoo manager had supplied Harry's aunt with a cup of tea, and they'd somehow got Dudley free.

Harry was then dragged from the car by his already-stretched t-shirt collar, thrown towards his cupboard with uncle Vernon muttering "stay... cupboard... no meals". Resigning himself to a hungry few days, Harry locked himself in his cupboard and flopped onto the bed. What had happened to the glass? How did the snake talk to him? It was just another weird thing that Harry couldn't explain.

When he was roughly woken the next day to cook breakfast, Harry's life was back to normal - minus his usual scraps of breakfast as his uncle made good on his threat. The letterbox rattled and his uncle grunted at him to get the post. Knowing he'd only be berated (more) if he brought back junk mail, Harry shuffled through them quickly. Bill, postcard, bill, junk mail.

A letter that felt heavy, aged papery material shining with green ink jumped out at him. It had Harry's name on it. Mr H Potter, The Cupboard Under The Stairs. He never got mail. Harry didn't get any further, as his cousin leapt out and shouted "Harry's got a letter!". Uncle Vernon appeared then, tearing the mail from his hand and going several shades of red and white in the face when he looked at the envelope. Both Harry and Dudley were shoved out of the kitchen, the door slammed closed and locked behind them. Crouching to listen at the cracks, Harry heard them talking.

"They know where he sleeps Vernon, they must be watching us!" "No, we swore when we took him in we'd stamp it out of him!" Dudley shoved at the door in frustration then, he wanted to know what was going on and he was not used to being denied. Which obviously gave them away as listening at the door. The adults had promptly disappeared into the garden shed to finish their discussion, which surprised Harry as he was certain aunt Petunia had never so much as set foot in that shed before. Giving it up as a bad job, Harry returned to his cupboard and Dudley continued whinging outside the door.

Later on that day, his uncle had paid him a surprise visit.

"You're getting a bit big for this cupboard now, so we're moving you into Dudley's second bedroom. Get your stuff and get up there before I change my mind!"

Harry rushed to collect his things, one trip all he needed for his meagre posessions. The next week had been a storm of tantrums, Dudley utterly incensed at Harry in that room. He'd thrown up on purpose, screamed himself hoarse every single day, smashed half the windows in the greenhouse and even resorted to crying hysterically. Harry was still in the bedroom.

The following Monday, three copies of Harry's letter had come but uncle Vernon, suddenly very interested in the morning post, had gotten to them first and thrown them all in the fire. Then he'd nailed up the letterbox. Certain something strange was going on but unsure what, Harry had tried to get up early and go meet the postman outside, but evidently his uncle had thought of it first and Harry had stepped on his sleeping uncles face at the door. Harry got a long shouting rant, then sent to make his uncle a cup of tea. When he returned, the post was already being shredded in his uncle's hands.

The next day, a dozen letters were shoved in every crack and crevice around the door. Uncle Vernon had torn them all to shreds and then sealed the entire door with filler. A very confused milkman had handed aunt Petunia her two dozen eggs through the window. Each egg had contained a rolled up letter, which Petunia promptly shredded in the blender.

The next day was a Sunday, and uncle Vernon was looking a little... odd. His hair was on end, his usually groomed moustache scruffy and he was spreading marmalade on his newspaper.

"Fine day sunday, best day of the week. No post on sundays!"

Harry handed his lunatic-looking uncle the plate of biscuits before sitting down. An ominous rattling had started nearby. Harry peered out of the window, wondering if one of the neighbours had started construction work. That wasn't the source.

Owls, dozens of them, maybe even hundreds, were all over the street but centred around this house in particular. The sound of nails breaking free was followed with the sound of rapidly moving paper - the letterbox had burst open. The ominous rattling grew louder, followed by a sudden deluge of envelopes. Each bearing Harry's name, they were pouring out of the fireplace and filling the room. His relatives were screaming, Harry grabbing at the letters in the hopes he could hide in the cupboard with one and read it. His uncles meaty arm seized around his waist, pulling the letter out of his grip with his free hand and shouting.

"We're going away, far away!"

Within an hour, Vernon was practically tearing out the sealed front door and leading his confused wife, son and nephew to the car. They obediently got in, all too confused and terrified of the mad man, and Vernon began driving, Dudley whining about wanting to watch tv and play computer games until his father swatted him around the head.

Dudley sat sniffling after that, unsure how to react to being in trouble. He had never been told off, only placated with food and toys. Hours later, they were pulling up at a tiny docks in the pouring rain. A strange, grinning man had helped them into a tiny boat, handing Vernon a long, thin package and pointing to a barely visible island. Island was a stretch, it was like a patch of dirt had gotten lost on it's way through the sea and stayed there.

A small, pathetic looking shack was visible as lightning cracked, and Harry was very concerned now. Vernon was occasionally heard muttering "shake 'em off" as they had driven, but who they were "shaking off" was yet to be revealed.

The rickety boat sped them over to the 'island', the confused group following a slightly manic Vernon into the shack. There were gaps in the wall that the wind whistled through, rain thundering around them. Vernon produced a packet of crisps and a banana each, the paltry meal filling none of them. His aunt and uncle took the moth-eaten bed, Dudley having a bed made up with most of the spare blankets on the questionable sofa, and Harry had the thinnest blanket and was left to find the softest bit of floor he could.

Dudley's digital watch had a lit display, and Harry watched the minutes tick down to midnight. Drawing a birthday cake with eleven candles on the dirty floor, Harry blew the dust away as the watch beeped midnight.

"Happy birthday Harry" he mumbled to himself.

A thunderous crack sounded outside, and Harry resigned himself to not sleeping in this storm, uncomfortable floor and barely-existent blanket aside. The next crack shook the walls, and he was seriously questioning the shacks ability to stay there in the storm. The third crack was definitely at the door, which promptly shot out of its frame to reveal a large silhouette in the flares of lightning. Curling up under his blanket, Harry watched the figure duck down and step into the shack.

The large man turned, physically lifted the door and pushed it back into it's frame like it weighed nothing. A sound whooshed past Harry, and the fireplace was suddenly full of fire. The heat washed over Harry's chilled skin, and Dudley awoke behind him screaming. When Harry turned to the mystery figure, he found a hugely tall and wide man, with an enormous bushy beard obscuring most of his face and half of his body.

Uncle Vernon appeared then, clutching a rifle in his pudgy hands - that had been what the package was. The large bearded man wrapped a hand around the barrel of the rifle, bending it like it was rubber until it curved upwards before turning to Harry. Standing up on shaking legs, Harry waited as the huge man came towards him - the shack was small and his strides large, in two steps he was towering over Harry.

"Rubeus Hagrid, keeper of keys and grounds at Hogwarts."

Harry took the proferred hand, his palm about the size of the mans thumb, and his brow creased in confusion. Hogwarts? Harry had never heard of it. The large man, Rubeus Hagrid, reached into his heavy brown coat, pulling out yet another of the envelopes of heavy, aged paper. Trembling hands held the letter to his eyes - Mr H Potter, The Shack On The Island. Not exactly a common place, he expected. Shaking fingers lifted the seal away, unfolding two pieces of the same heavy paper from within the thick envelope.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall Deputy Headmistress"

"Hagrid, what's Hogwarts, and what does it mean, they await my owl?"

Hagrid did a double take, then reached into another pocket and pulled out a live owl, feathers slightly ruffled and hooting indignantly. Hagrid then took his top sheet of letter, scrawling something on the bottom before throwing the owl out of the window into the storm.

"Hogwarts is a school o' witchcraft an' wizardry. Yer a wizard Harry."

"I'm a what?"

"A wizard!"

"I can't be a wizard, I'm just Harry. Just Harry."

"Well, jus' Harry, did you ever make anything happen? Anything you couldn't explain when you were angry, or scared?"

Harry nodded mutely, turning back to the second piece of paper in his hand.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

3 sets of plain work robes (black)

1 plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

1 pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

1 winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring and owl OR a cat OR a toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS"

Even more confused than ever, Harry heard his uncle, who had seemed to find his voice at last.

"He will not be going, I tell you! We swore when we took him in we'd put a stop to all of this!"

Hagrid raged back at them, Harry's uncle seeming to shrink in on himself under the anger of the much, much larger man. Shoving the list into his jeans pocket, Harry waited. Hagrid, apparently having had quite enough of the Dursleys, turned back to the door and simply pulled it back out of the frame. It hit the ground, and in the light of a slightly easing storm, Harry caught a smiling expression on the bearded face.

"Ye comin' Harry? Ye can always stay o' course!"

Not needing to be asked twice, Harry scrambled out after the man, shoving his arms into his overshirt for a little warmth.

"I forgo' ter say, 'Appy Birthday Harry!"

Unsure he could trust the strange man, but something inside him singing in agreement with the idea of "magic", Harry decided there were worse ways to start off his eleventh birthday.

-YDHP-

I will address some of the things missing in this chapter in the next one, however I am not writing the whole Diagon Alley scene all over again, we all know how it goes. Things will be addressed though, worry not.

The next chapter is Vlad and Harry meeting, and while I'm fairly sure I know what I'll be doing, I'm open to ideas about how you guys want to see them encountering each other for the first time!

Til then, thank you to every reader, reviewer, follower and favouriter!