Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of Number 4, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were all the more horrified, then, to find a baby on their doorstep as Vernon Dursley set off for work one cold November morning. The letter left with the swaddled Harry Potter was, despite Vernon's swearing and Petunia's fearful quivering, persuasive enough to grant Harry space in their home, but the Dursleys were committed that they would have none of that Potter weirdness in their home.

Harry Potter spent most days waiting for something bad to happen. Despite his best efforts to be absolutely uninteresting, strange and unusual things continued to happen to him, and they usually led to uncle Vernon's tirades or beatings from Dudley. Dudley took it upon himself to enforce Harry's solitude and isolation outside of the house, punishing Harry with his tiny band of goons and taking great pleasure in inflicting more pain when Harry tried to stand up to them. Harry had tried to make friends in classes, but other students soon learned to avoid him, and any budding friendships withered and died as quickly as they started.

One summer afternoon, Harry found himself yet again on the run. Out of breath and flagging as the rounded a corner, he decided the best option was to try to shelter in the nearest building. Stepping through the doors, he felt a wave of relief hit him as cool air washed over his skin. The entryway was warmly lit, and the quiet was so pervasive that it felt like air was made of soft cotton. Rows of tall shelves ran the length of the building behind a small round desk of dark brown wood. A tall girl in her late teens stood behind the desk, slightly hunched over and idly nibbling on a pencil. Her dark blonde hair hung loose, gently spilling down over her simple white shirt. As Harry began making his way toward her, she looked up, her furrowed brow quickly transitioning into a cordial smile as she straightened.

Harry had only taken a step or two, however, before his relief was shattered by the raucous arrival of 4 large boys behind him.

"There you are Potter! Trying to hide in the library?" Dudley spat, while his gang loudly guffawed. A second more and they were trying to grab him to pull him back out the door, moving to surround him as he retreated another few steps toward the desk. As Harry mentally prepared himself for the beating he knew would be worse the more he resisted, he heard a voice behind him cut through Dudley's laughter.

"No! Out! We'll have none of that here, find somewhere else to go." The blonde girl was behind him now, pointing aggressively toward the door with an annoyed look on her face. Harry sighed and apologized, and began following Dudley's gang out the door when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Not you, you can stay." He registered Dudley's furious expression through the door, before turning to look at the owner of the hand on his shoulder. She was still watching Dudley's departure, as if unconvinced that he would leave unless she watched him go, but she quickly turned back to Harry and offered him a smile.

"Now, I don't believe I've seen you in here before. What is your name?"

"Erm, H-Harry, Harry Potter" he stammered.

"Well Harry Potter, my name is Alice and I'm here to help you with whatever business you have in the library. What sort of books are you looking for?" she replied.

Harry thought for a moment before answering, a bit embarrassed. "I'm not sure, I haven't read a lot outside of class. What do you suggest?" He let her lead him back through the shelves, to a small sitting area with chairs and a few writing desks, before she gently deposited him in a cloth chair that sank in and threatened to swallow him up.

"Well, most boys your age tend to like fantasy and science fiction, that's what you'll find on the shelves here next to the reading commons, but we also have classic literature, philosophy, and if you walk a bit further you'll find maths, science, and the like. We also have individual rooms for meetings and on Thursday evenings we have a few older students that use them to offer tutoring if you have difficulty in your classes. Here," she said as she pulled a book down and placed it in his hands. "This one has been pretty popular lately, give it a read. If you don't like it feel free to check the shelves for something else. I'll get you set up before you leave so you can take books home as well. I'll just be back up at the front desk, let me know if you need anything else!" and with another quick smile she was walking away.

Harry looked at the cover of the book, featuring a rocket and a space station on the front, and tried not to think about Dudley's revenge later as he settled in and began reading.

Harry's routine quickly became spending as much time as he could manage at the library. He still had to endure chores and Dudley's harassment at school, but Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia seemed almost glad to have him gone more of the day. The oversized clothes he'd been handed down from Dudley were especially effective for smuggling books into his cupboard, an especially useful feature as Harry quickly found himself consuming books ravenously, long after the Dursleys had gone to bed, reading in his cupboard by the light of a torch.

Alice helped him find more material to read as the days went on, offering her own suggestions and often waxing poetic about how enlightening the classics were. Harry struggled to comprehend the works of Victor Hugo the first time he let Alice pick out one of her classics for him, needing a dictionary open alongside as he read, but slowly his vocabulary and understanding grew to the task.

After struggling with a particularly confusing maths lesson for days, he finally spent Thursday night in a tutoring session, and decided that once he got the hang of it, his schoolwork wasn't all that miserable after all, and within a few days he decided to brave the harder academic side of the library, before beating a hasty retreat and deciding he definitely was not prepared for all the strange swooping symbols he'd seen on a brief flip through the first book he opened. He didn't realize how comfortable his studies had made him with the material until he absentmindedly answered a question posed to the class one day at school, and the rapid drawing of attention and subsequent beating by Dudley that afternoon had convinced him to be comfortable quietly.

The day Harry saw a letter for him in the daily post, he knew from experience how to hide it until he could read it later. He broke the wax seal with the large, ornate H and was quickly convinced it had to be a sort of joke.

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

Maybe Alice was referencing some fantasy novel he hadn't read yet. But how did she know he lived in the cupboard under the stairs? He set it aside and resolved to ask about it when next he saw her. The next morning, however, threw a wrench in his plans as several more letters for him were waiting with the post, and this time uncle Vernon had seen them first. Vernon tried his best to sound polite and unconcerned when he informed Harry that Dudley's second bedroom would now be his, despite the barely concealed fear and anger and Dudley's shrieks of protest. As the week went on, however, Harry found his freedom limited even more as Vernon and Petunia frantically responded to the escalating number of letters each day. Harry was more concerned by all the owls outside, as their behavior and number went against everything he'd read about them in a book on birds he'd enjoyed once.

When hundreds of letters exploded out of the fireplace and prompted Vernon to move everyone to a shack surrounded by water and only accessible by boat, Harry thought that Alice's joke had gotten a bit out of hand. When a giant beat down the door the morning of his eleventh birthday, Harry knew it was too much.

Then Hagrid told Harry he was a wizard.