In a tiny, dark cupboard, a small form stirs. A little boy, no more than six years old, reveals himself from under his badly worn baby blanket. Just as he uncovers his head, the boy hears pounding footsteps on the stairs above him. He quickly hides the blanket, and waits for the door to be flung open. Not a moment later, the door is ripped open, banging loudly against the wall.

"Boy!" a horse-like woman shouts "Get out of there and make us breakfast."

The small boy scrambles out of the cupboard and into the pristine kitchen. He drags an old stool in front of the stove, climbing up and turning it on before placing two pans on top. The boy hops off of the stool, hurrying to the fridge. He just barely manages to open the large door, but is able to retrieve bacon and eggs from inside. The young boy carefully moves back to his place at the stove, beginning to scramble eight eggs and fry twelve strips of bacon.

A few short minutes later, the little boy sets the table for three - his aunt, uncle, and cousin. He divides about three fourths of the food between his uncle's and cousin's plates, putting the rest on his aunt's plate. Just as he heard his uncle and cousin start down the stairs, the toaster went off. The boy grabbed the toast, placing three pieces on his uncle's plate, two on his cousin's, and one on his aunt's. The three family members, a whale, a pig, and a horse, sat down and began to eat. The small boy stood quietly in the corner, waiting to wash the dishes. He was well acquainted with the daily routine, and knew he would be doing chores until he went to bed.

~~KFP/HP~~

That night:

The small boy was curled up on his cot, clutching his baby blanket for protection and comfort as he slept. He was carefully positioned on his side because of the painful welts from his uncle's belt on his back. While physically he laid still and quiet, the young boy's mind was in turmoil as he dreamed.

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!"

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"

"Stand aside you silly girl … stand aside now."

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead -"

"Not Harry! Please … have mercy … have mercy… "

The young boy awoke with a start. For the first time he could remember, he had a name! He wasn't Boy or Freak anymore! No, he was Harry. Finally. Finally, he had something the Dursleys could never take away from him. Now he knew his name, and for the first time in his life, he felt like he was someone, like he was actually a person, not some annoying, was-of-space burden. A scant few tears ran down his cheeks as he buried his face in his blanket.

But then Harry noticed something different about his blanket. Just moments ago it had been old and worn, threadbare and stained in different places. As he felt the blanket, it seemed as if it was brand new again. No longer old and worn, the green blanket now had the texture of the finest, softest silk, and he could make out a beautiful, Chinese dragon on one side. In one corner, he could feel the shape of letters, and when he brought it close to his face to examine it, he saw the name Harry James Potter written in gracefully curving letters. Never had he felt so comforted, for he now knew that his blanket was from his parents, who loved him enough to make sure he lived.

But the knowledge of his parents' love for him just made him even sadder. Why did he have to live with the Dursleys? Why couldn't he have gone to an orphanage, and then later a new family? As he laid there wondering, Harry wished with all his heart for a family. He knew his parents were gone, but surely there was someone who could love him, someone who could comfort him and make him feel safe.

Just after the small boy drifted into a restless sleep, his form began to glow softly. Harry's wish had been heard, and now it was being granted. The glow receded slightly, revealing the form of a small, humanoid Galapagos Tortoise, before growing to a blinding intensity. The light quickly faded away, leaving nothing in the small, dark cupboard but an old cot and a few broken toys as reminders of its previous inhabitant.


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