(A new story that hit me out of nowhere. Thought it might be interesting, so here goes. I don't own Harry Potter, nor any of the persons or places found in those books. I do own a very nice wand, but I have to keep it locked up. Mom thought it looked neat, waved it, and the dog turned purple. She waved it again to fix it, and now he has bright pink spots. He's not amused.)
Harry Potter frowned at the raised voices from outside his little cupboard. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were fighting again. He sighed, realizing from their words that he was, as usual, the subject of their debate. He hoped they would stop soon, and that Uncle Vernon would not be angry with him in the morning. He had already been sent to his cupboard without dinner tonight after his cousin Dudley told them Harry had tried to trip him at preschool today.
Now, Harry was no common boy, not that he knew that. All he knew was that, when he was just over a year old, he had been left on the doorstep of the very normal and ordinary Vernon and Petunia Dursley at Number Four Privet Drive. They had told him very quickly that he was to stay out of sight of the neighbors, as they didn't want to have to explain his presence to them. Their son, Dudley, was just a few months older than Harry, but he was treated very differently. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia always doted on their beloved, perfect son, but avoided even looking at Harry.
"I won't stand for it any more, Vernon!" cried Aunt Petunia. "The boy is just like them! All the strange things happening around here are his doing! I know I said we should try and stick it out, but I won't have it any longer."
"And what exactly should we do with him, Pet?" demanded Vernon. Harry could just picture the man's thick walrus-like moustache quivering as he spoke. "What if they find out we tried to get rid of him and bring him back here?"
"We're better off doing it now, rather than waiting. Later, they might get more curious."
There was silence for a short time before Uncle Vernon spoke again. "Alright, Pet. I'll start looking into it first thing in the morning. Somewhere far enough from here that we won't ever have to deal with him again."
"Don't take too long, Vernon. He upsets our poor little Duddikins so." The voices faded, and the stairs above Harry shifted as Uncle Vernon's huge body trudged up them. Harry frowned in confusion. Where they going to send him somewhere else? Who were they saying he was like? His tired mind couldn't hold thoughts together any longer, so the tired four-year-old soon fell asleep.
Harry looked up from where he was carefully sweeping the floors when Uncle Vernon came home from work. Emerald green eyes watched nervously from behind thick rimmed glasses as the large, fat man stamped into the room. Uncle Vernon walked over and lovingly kissed Petunia, then moved to kiss and praise his son for yet another accomplishment, this time for drawing a picture at preschool. Harry honestly couldn't tell what the crayon scribble was supposed to be, but he shrugged it off and quickly swept up the last bit of the kitchen floor. That done, he grabbed a few cloths from the cupboard under the stairs where he slept and moved silently to the lounge to begin dusting.
There were dozens of little knick-knacks on the shelves and side tables, and Harry was supposed to dust each one. It looked like there would be more pictures of Dudley than wall soon, and Harry couldn't figure out how the frames collected so much dust. He quickly moved around the room, keeping an ear out for his Aunt and Uncle. He could hear the intermittent clattering of dishes, along with Dudley's demands for more mashed potatoes, more gravy. Harry rolled his eyes at his cousin's theatrics.
Just as he finished cleaning the lounge and hallway, Harry heard the chairs moving back from the table. He quickly put away the cleaning supplies he had and hurried to the kitchen to clean up the table he stacked the dishes and moved them to the sink, scraping the leftovers onto a single plate for himself. Once the tap was running and filling the sink with hot water, he quickly shoveled the meager leftovers into his mouth. It was barely enough for a few mouthfuls, but it was all he would get.
Two hours later, the dishes were washed, dried, and put away, the table was scrubbed, along with the counter, the floor was scrubbed, and the trash was taken out. Before he could retreat to his cupboard, however, Harry heard his Uncle's voice call out.
"Boy!" he snapped. "Come here!" Harry quickly and silently came to stand in front of Uncle Vernon.
"You wanted to see me, Uncle Vernon?" he said softly.
"Now, Boy," said Uncle Vernon, his eyes narrow and his moustache quivering slightly. "Aunt Petunia says you have been very well-behaved these last few days. In light of this, you will be allowed a small treat. Tomorrow, we are going into London, and you will be permitted to go with us. You will be up, dressed, and ready to leave with your morning chores done by the time we are ready, or you will left here, is that clear? And no freakishness at all, or we dump you right where we are, got it?"
Wide eyed, Harry nodded quickly. "I got it, Uncle Vernon." He turned and hurried to his cupboard, as he was supposed to once his chores for the evening were complete. It would not do for anyone to be walking by and see him through the window. He shut off the little bare bulb that hung over his head and rolled over to go to sleep.
Harry had to force himself to be still and quiet the next morning. He had gotten up early to do his morning chores, making sure to be extra quiet as he did them. When the rest of the family moved out to the car, Harry was ready and waiting for them. He hadn't heard anyone mention where they were going, but he hardly cared. It was the first time he was allowed to go with them at all! He silently stared out the window, his emerald eyes taking in the passing buildings.
"Daddy," whined Dudley for the fifth time. "Why does he have to come along?"
Apparently, Aunt Petunia had had enough. "Don't worry so much, Diddykins," she said. "Mummy and Daddy wanted to take their favorite boy out for the day, and we couldn't just leave him at home by himself. Who knows what might have happened. It's all right, he'll just wait in the car quietly like he should."
Dudley pouted a bit, but let it drop. Sure enough, they stopped at a shopping area, a small park, and an ice cream shop, and Harry was ordered to stay in the car each time. Each time, Uncle Vernon carefully checked the car over for any signs of 'freakishness.' Harry was just glad to be allowed out of the house with them.
A shriek from the seat beside him made Harry jump in alarm. Dudley's four scoop ice cream cone had fallen, and the bubblegum scoop from the top was now on Dudley's fat belly. The worst part was, with all his flailing and shrieking about it being cold, he dropped another scoop on himself and a third on the floor of the car.
Uncle Vernon stopped the car and got out, hurrying to his son's rescue, followed by Aunt Petunia. They quickly got the worst of the mess cleaned up, and Dudley was no longer shouting about the treat being cold on him. Now he was wailing over the loss of three whole scoops of his cone, demanding they go back and get him another. Then came the words Harry dreaded.
"It's was him!" cried Dudley, pointing at Harry. "He made me drop my ice cream! I told you he shouldn't have come!"
Harry looked at his uncle, green eyes wide with fear. "I didn't," he pleaded. "I swear I didn't."
A big, meaty hand gripped his shirt and dragged him from the car. "I told you, boy," he snarled, his face going purple with rage. "No freakishness. I warned you, even one toe out of line, you're gone, didn't I?" while Petunia tried to clean up Dudley, as well as the car, Vernon turned and dragged Harry away. Harry could feel the tears slowly making their way down his face, and he kept begging Uncle Vernon to forgive him. "Perfect," Vernon said suddenly.
Harry looked up to see they had stopped in front of a large building of dark gray brick. A high iron fence surrounded the property with a large scrollwork gate. Vernon dragged him through the gate and up to the large wooden door. He pounded on the wood with his big fist, waiting impatiently. Finally, the door opened to reveal a stocky, severe-faced woman.
"What do you want?" snapped the woman.
"I got this for you," said Vernon, shaking Harry by his thin arm. "He's the son of my wife's worthless sister and her lay-about husband. My wife and I have a son of our own, and we can't afford the brat. He acts like he owns the place, I tell you. Constantly upsetting my poor son."
The woman looked at Harry sharply. "Well, we don't spoil them here, that's for sure," she said. "We got space for him, if you're sure you can't care for him."
"You're welcome to him," snapped Vernon. "His full name is Harrison James Potter, he'll turn five in July, and we never want to see him darken our door again." Vernon gave him a rough shove to the woman, turned on his heel, and strode towards the gate. Realizing that his uncle was leaving, Harry started after him, but was stopped by a strong hand on his shoulder. He tried to fight the hold, but the lady just held him tighter.
Panic welled up when he saw Uncle Vernon reach the car, Aunt Petunia and Dudley already in their seats. "Uncle Vernon!" Harry cried, panic setting in. "Please! I'm sorry! Please don't go! I'll be good, I promise! Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, please! Don't leave me!" The car started moving, and Harry was able to break loose. He ran at a sprint through the gate to the road as the car sped by. He could hear the cheerful voices inside, Dudley wanting more ice cream, Petunia assuring him they would get him some right away.
Harry tried to catch up to the vehicle, but it soon turned a corner. By the time Harry reached the same corner, the Dursleys were nowhere to be seen. Harry stood there, tears streaming unchecked down his young face. They were gone. They had left him behind. When the woman came and led him back to the gray brick building, he went quietly.
It was a week before Harry would move or eat without being ordered to do so. It would be two months before he would accept that the Dursleys would never come back for him. It would be a year before he thought things out and realized Uncle Vernon had planned to leave him in this orphanage from the start, and the car ride was a cruel ploy to get him here without difficulty. After two years, he would begin to give up hope of being adopted. After three, he would decide that if Fate would not give him a family, he would make his own. He never would forgive the Dursleys for what they did.