Harry Potter & the Philosopher's Stone: Take Two
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot switch and any original characters I may add in as I deem necessary. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling. Should any other literary references be used, they will be so noted at that point.
Dialogue is in double quotes ("") and Thoughts are in single quotes ('').
Harry groaned as he tried to find a more comfortable position to in which to sleep. He wondered, as he often did, what it would be like to have a family . . . or even just one person . . . who truly loved and cared for him. Someone who cared when his birthday was coming. Someone who remembered he was there for Christmas. He used to wait excitedly for his birthday, hoping for presents from his aunt and uncle. Fun stuff like they gave their son, his pig of a cousin, Dudley. But it wasn't to be, and eventually, he stopped hoping.
Instead of presents, he was taught a "domestic skill" by Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia. They told him it was for his own good so he would be able to fend for himself one day, for surely no one would want to marry a freak like him. Harry rubbed the peculiar lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. No one would tell him how he got it,
except that it had happened the night his parents died. Harry simply couldn't figure out what sort of accident could cause a scar like his, but he'd learned early not to ask many questions. Or any questions. Actually, when you came right down to it, not talking at all was the closest he could come to pleasing his surly relatives.
Harry had vague memories of his parents. Not much to go on, but he instinctively knew that they were loving and kind. How his mother ever had had a sister like Petunia was beyond him. She wasn't sweet at all and she sure resented the bloody hell out of Harry. He often felt like she was observing him, waiting to see if she was missing something that would allow for further resentment.
He wished he knew why they hated him. Maybe he could rectify things somehow and at the least get a real bedroom and some decent food. He knew he was small for his age, but he was still nearly too big to fit in "his" cupboard – even with all the times he was forced to go hungry.