Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
This was written using the Almost Totally Random Writing Exercise Generator, using the prompts 350-500 words/ Male Character Under 18 / Hiding in the Dark
This is what I came up with,
A little boy of six years was once again thrown into the small and dusty cupboard under the stairs. His back hit the under stair struts, sending shooting pains down his back. He scrambled as fast as he could to the farthest point away from the open wooden door. He huddled down as he heard his Uncle Vernon rant about ungrateful freaks as the door slammed shut locking him inside once again. The cent in the door slammed shut as well blocking the light from entering the dark and cramped space that served as the little boy's bedroom.
Beautiful bright green eyes closed and the little boy smiled slightly at the welcoming darkness. This was his hiding place, the dark, whether it was from closing his eyes or being locked in his cupboard, he welcomed it. To most little children the dark was something to be feared, something that held monsters and all kinds of scary things, but to six-year-old Harry Potter it was his salvation, his way to hide from fists, feet and other thing that could hurt him.
In the dark he could dream about people that loved him and cared about him, instead of those that would rather hate and hurt him. He dreamed of people he had met in the street, of their faces and kind words, dreaming that they were his parents, parents that were coming back to him. He had not gathered the courage to ask his Aunt and Uncle about his parents, the only thing he knew was that they were dead.
He dreamed of flying motorcycles and a booming voice crying, and another saying they will see him soon, he wondered if these were dreams or a memory sometimes, but when he had told Aunt Petunia about them he was hit and thrown into his cupboard without being able to have a little dinner. She had told him that it was a stupid dream that freaks would dream of, and she never wanted to hear of it again.
In the dark he didn't just dream of the wonderful things, there was a darker dream, one that made Harry cry in sadness when he woke up. He dreamed of a beautiful young red haired woman pleading with someone, and then a flash of bright green light that made Harry feel sick to his little stomach. The woman would always fall screaming his name. He wished that he knew who this woman was, he often dreamed of her as his mother.
He pulled a worn blue baby blanket over himself to keep warm, as it was winter and the snow had begun to fall onto the ground outside. He fingered the three letters that were stitched onto it, H.J.P. and smiled as he closed his eyes. He could dream in the dark of a tall young man with glasses that would talk to him about flying on a broomstick, and a gentle voiced young woman singing to him softly as he drifted to sleep.
Well what do you all think? Was it okay?
If there is any mistakes please tell me so I can correct them.