A/N: This is my first chapter fic. So proud, so proud. I hope it's ok, I really don't know where it's
going, but I promise I'll finish it if it gets good reviews (a.k.a not you suck you suck you suck)
Reviews like that don't help anyone. I really don't care if you want to give me a bad review, since
this is my first real fic., and I'm just learning and all that, but please tell me how I can improve it,
not just that it needs improvement. Thanks bunches. Everyone who reviews gets . . . the
satisfaction of knowing they made me happy. That's better than money any day . . . I hope the
formatting doesn't get too messed up. I always type it out so nice and neat, line everything up etc...
but when I post it, it gets all discombobulated. I hate it when that happens.

Now that my essay is over, I guess I have to tell you that, yes, I am J.K. Rowling. I found
fanfiction.net and decided not to finish the Harry Potter series and write fanfics instead. Why do
you think Book 5 is so late? We are trying to find a decent way to break it to the public that it
won't be finished. Oh, look! That pig that just flew past my window had the cutest little tail . . .
Seriously, Harry Potter and everything to do with it belong to J.K Rowling, Bloomsbury (SP?)
Publishing, Scholastic Inc., the Warner Bros. and whoever else got their hand in the bag.
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Normal
Chapter One




The ride home from Platform nine and three fourths was anything if not what Harry
expected. He sat alone in the back seat, save for Hedwig, who, sensing the tense atmosphere,
remained silent, occasionally looking up at him curiously from her cage. He heard his trunk
shifting in the back as the car went around some sharp turns, and he heard the tires rolling over
cracks in the pavement, but he didn't hear the only thing he expected. Uncle Vernon.

Harry Potter had just completed his fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and
Wizardry, and one of the worst times in his life. The Triwizard Tournament. He thought back to
when he actually wanted to sneak his name into the goblet. He had wanted nothing more than to
be chosen as a champion. Now, he would give anything to have not seen his name out of the
goblet. Sure, the fantasy of showing his talents in front of the entire school was appealing, but
that's when it was *just* a fantasy. In reality it was dangerous and nerve-racking. He was sure he
had gained ten years on his life in the past year. On top of the tournament, he had to deal with
Voldemort's return and half the wizarding community thinking he was insane, thanks to Rita
Skeeter.

He was brought out of his reverie by a car horn from somewhere in front of them. He was so
lost in thought that the sudden noise made him jump, and accidently push Hedwig's cage off the
seat. She gave a great indignant screech. Harry cringed, prepared to hear Uncle Vernon telling him
off,but all he got was a squinty-eyed look through the rearview mirror before his uncle continued
driving down the street.

That was odd. Normally he would have gotten such a telling off that he would remember it
far into next week, even for something so trivial. But Vernon never said a word, never threatened
him, or ground him to the cupboard or anything. That was what worried Harry. A threat of a
sound thrashing would be okay, because he knew it was just a threat. It was perfectly normal
behavior for the perfectly normal Dursley. But this . . . this troubled him. A great deal.

Sooner than he expected, they came upon Magnolia Crescent. One left turn . . . and
there was Privet Drive. Number four looked as it always did; completely indistinguishable from the
other houses on the drive. Perfectly normal, thought Harry bitterly. He laughed to himself, thinking
what would happen if he painted the front door some radical color, maybe . . . light blue, or
off-white. Voldemort would never find his ashes.

They pulled in the driveway. Vernon, as usual, got out of the car and strolled up to
the front door, entered, and slammed it behind him, leaving his nephew to carry Hedwig and his
heavy trunk to his room, by himself.

It was quite a trick for Harry to lift, let alone move the trunk without a cart, like they
did at the train station. He was a small person, even he had to admit, but had lost even more
weight during the last year, spending more that half the time either too nervous or too upset to eat.
This was one of the times that he really wished he could live with Sirius, or the Weasleys, or have
anyone old enough to do magic living there. Even if they wouldn't help, he could quickly do a
levitating charm, and the ministry would never know. They would assume it was the older wizard.
That made him think of how many times the Weasley twins had probably abused this privilege.

He pulled the trunk out of the back, and started to pull it towards the front door ,
when he heard a loud screech from the back seat.

"Hedwig," Screech. "Just let me take my trunk up, okay?" Screech. "I'll just be a
minute. I'll get you right when I'm done." Screech. Uncle Vernon was probably on his way out to
yell at him for attracting the neighbor's attention. Screech. He loved Hedwig, but she sure knew
how to get him in trouble. Screech. "Fine, fine. I'll take you up first." He pulled his trunk to the
front of the car, so it wasn't in view of anyone who might be walking by, and grabbed Hedwig's
cage from the seat. "Are you happy, now?" She gave a soft hoot and tried to nip his fingers. "I'll
take that as a yes."

He entered the house and took the stairs two at a time. When he entered his room, he
could do nothing but gasp in astonishment. It had always been cluttered with Dudley's old toys,
but now it looked like the back room of a used toy store. When he moved in there, they hadn't
taken anything out, but, they hadn't moved anything in either. It looked as though the Dursleys had
put the missing four years of toys into the room, as if it was once again a spare. He stepped over a
tub of melted legos (he didn't want to think of how that had possibly happened) and noticed that
his little bed was gone.

Great. Just great. They probably moved the mattress back to the cupboard and expect me
to sleep there. No wonder, after what happened after the Weasley's visit last year and the little four
foot tongue incident. He almost couldn't blame them. Almost. He really didn't think he deserved
to be back in the cupboard. He didn't tell Fred and George to bait Dudley, and he certainly didn't
force Dudley to eat the candy. Even though he wasn't very large, he *had* grown since he was
eleven and probably wouldn't fit in the tiny space, anyway.

He cleared the desk off of several Barbie (???) coloring books, and set Hedwig down. "I'll
be right back." He went down the stairs to find Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia in the kitchen,
Petunia fussing over a pot of tea and Vernon reading the newspaper. Dudley was nowhere to be
seen. "Hello, Aunt Petunia." No answer. She didn't even turn around.

"Uncle Vernon, I was just wondering . . . um. . . where my bed is?" Vernon turned a page
of the paper, and continued reading. Harry went on. "Because if you expect me to sleep in the
cupboard . . ."

"Oh look, Petunia. Mr. Mason's daughter got married. Says so right here on the society
page."

"Why didn't we know about it?"

"I'm sure our invitations just got lost in the mail."

"Erm, because if I had to sleep in there, my godfath . . ." Harry was interrupted again.

"They're having a sale next week at Nicol's. Maybe we should stop by, pick something up
for Dudley."

"Oh, I haven't gotten anything for my Dinky-Duddykins in such a long time. At least three
days, oh, the poor boy must feel so deprived!"

By now Harry was feeling *very* annoyed. It was if they were intentionally ignoring him.
Of course, he wouldn't put it past them. "Hello?" Nothing. "Hello?" Not a blink towards him. "I
thought you'd like to know that I just set the house on fire and you have ten seconds before it
collapses on your heads!" Petunia served them the tea and sat at the table. "And I just turned
Dudley into a three headed warthog!" He got a stunned look from Petunia, but Vernon cleared his
throat and she looked away again.

Harry was getting terribly frustrated so he figured that he better leave the room before
someone ended up ten times their normal size and floating to the ceiling. He had to cough down a
laugh at the thought of a ten-times larger Vernon Dursley overflowing the kitchen, cracking the
walls. He decided to take his trunk upstairs to his room, anyway. It would never fit in the tiny
cupboard.

It took him a good fifteen minutes to haul his trunk up the stairs, and he almost dropped it
and sent it flying to the bottom twice. When he had finished, panting and sweaty, he decided to
take a shower. He pulled an old shirt and pants of Dudley's from his closet, and made his way to
the bathroom. He got there just as Dudley was leaving.

"Hey, Dudley. How's it going?" Dudley, just like his parents, ignored him. "What's the matter,
Dudley, cat got your tongue? Or maybe it's just a little sore still? I can fix it if you just let me get
my wand . . ."

This had the effect Harry wanted. "Y-you're not supposed to do m-m-m . . ."

"Oh, I know, but I'm sure the ministry would make an exception."

"NO! Dad-dad said you're a freak and something would happen because something weird
always happens so we were supposed to ignore you and nothing would happen like it did
last time and the time before that and the time before that and the time before that so just leave me
alone!" Harry didn't think Dudley took a single breath the hole time, and his suspicions were
confirmed when he saw that Dudley's face looked like a great purple balloon.

Dudley tried to get by Harry, but Harry blocked him. Dudley's eyes became very wide,
and Harry thought they might pop out of his head and roll across the floor. Harry tried not to
laugh at this but couldn't hold back any longer when Dudley suddenly dropped to the floor against
the wall, curled up as much as his large stomach would allow, stuck his sausage-like fingers in his
ears and began singing, "Lalalalalalaallalalallalaalalalalalalalalalala"

"W...what are...are you d-oing?" Harry asked between gasps for breath.

"Lalala . . . ignoring you . . . lalalalalalalalalalalala . . ."

Harry was laughing so hard that he didn't hear the thunderous footsteps on the stairs, or
see the large, red face of his fuming uncle coming up behind him.

"What the blazes are you doing to Dudley?!?!"

"N-nothing. I . . . I assure you . . . Dudley did it all by himself." Harry was fighting a losing
battle to calm his laughter down.

"Yeah right, nothing my arse! What have you done to Dudley!"

Harry was about to defend himself once again, but Dudley spoke up instead. "He . . . he
threatened me w-with m-m-m . . ." He never finished. He ran back into the bathroom and
slammed the door behind him. Seconds later, Harry could hear retching from behind the door.

"You . . ." Vernon growled through clenched teeth. "You . . . ruffian! You no good lazy
free-loader! Don't you know that Dudley is sick?! He has been fighting a terrible battle these past
few days! I daresay he's just barely hanging onto his life! He was healing, but you have probably
reversed the process! If he dies . . ."

"He's not going to die . . ."

"And you *threatened* him with *magic*!?!"

"I was only joking . . ."

"And you wonder why you no longer have a bed in this house! You wonder why you are
ignored! You lousy . . . you verminous . . . YOU!"

"I said I was only joking . . ."

"Don't talk back to me, boy! You don't deserve the air you breathe and here you are,
taking it away from my *sick* son! Just give me one good reason and I'll . . .I'll . . ."

"You'll what? Hit me? Like you have been threatening to do my entire life? You'll
*stamp* the magic out of me? You'll lock me in the cupboard and only let me out to do chores?
Stop my mail, sever my contact with my friends? What?" Harry tried to keep his voice calm and
steady, but fourteen years of anger towards this man suddenly flew out of him like a dam had
burst. "You lied to me for ten years, you kept me in a *cupboard* while your son had two
bedrooms to himself, you never even had the decency to tell me how my parents really died and
now what? What are you going to do *Vernon*, what?"

"How dare you! After all I have sacrificed! After all I have given you . . ."

"All you've given me? Yes, you have given me plenty! Lets see . . . spiders, a moldy blanket,
thousands of questions loneliness . . .should I go on? I know people who treat their *dogs* better
than you have treated me! But I am not a dog! I am a human being! I may be a wizard, but I am no
different than you, just maybe a little brighter! I am your nephew, for God sakes!" Harry felt his
face burning, his blood boiling underneath his skin. Somewhere in the back of his mind he hoped
he didn't accidently turn Vernon into a bug or something, but right now, he didn't care. He stalked
off to 'his' room and slammed the door, leaving a stunned uncle behind him.

Harry was angry, more angry than he had ever remember being. Right now, Voldemort,
Fudge and the Dursley's were all fighting for the same spot on his popularity scale. He leaned
against the door to catch his breath and his thoughts. Surveying the room, he saw all the broken
toys and ripped clothing that Dudley had tossed aside like garbage. It made him sick, how wasteful
and greedy this one boy was. There probably had more broken toys in this room than any of the
Weasley children had in their lives put together.

He walked, as well as he could, to the center of the room and began kicking the toys out of
the way. They slid across the floor, and Harry continued this process until he had enough room to
make a makeshift bed. He pulled out several cotton shirts of Dudley's and laid them on the
ground, then opened his trunk and pulled out all of his robes, and piled them up, too. He pulled
out one more thing from his trunk before he sprawled out on the not-so-comfortable bed. His
photo album.

He flipped through the thick pages and watched his parents, Sirius and Remus wave
happily at him. He conveniently forgot to look at the pictures with Pettigrew on them. Everyone
looked so happy, so carefree. There was a few pictures that he really loved. One was of his parents
sitting on a couch together. His father was beaming as his mother held his hand over her heavily
pregnant belly. They didn't seem to even notice the photo being taken. Every few seconds a ripple
could be seen across Lily's belly, appearing that he, Harry had been kicking.

The other photo he loved was a photo given to him by Sirius. It was dirty and torn. Sirius
said he had it with him the whole time he was in Azkaban, and he had taken it from the wreckage
of the house in Godric's Hollow after Harry's parents had been murdered. James was sitting in a
beautiful wingback chair, bouncing Harry on his knee, and swatting away Lily, who was standing
behind him, giving him bunny ears. All three were laughing. Harry had his arms out, reaching for
the photographer, Sirius, and his mouth was silently forming the words "Pafoo." That is what he
apparently used to call Sirius.

Harry was so wrapped up in looking at the photos that he didn't notice the door silently
open, or two people walk in. He didn't even look up until he heard the door click closed. He
looked up, and there stood a crying Petunia and a still fuming Vernon.

"I hope you're happy." Vernon growled in a dangerously low voice. "Because of you
Dudley is very upset, and lost his dinner. Do you know how long it's been since Dudley has eaten
a decent meal? Hasn't had an appetite since he became sick, and this is the first time he has eaten
in several days."

"Somehow, Uncle Vernon, I seriously doubt that. And if it's true, then all the better. The
whale needs to lose some weight." Harry answered, returning his gaze to his album.

"Vernon, what did he just call my little Duddikins?"

"A whale, Aunt Petunia. And If you look a little closer, you'll notice that Dudley isn't
you're little *anything* anymore."

Vernon's face swelled, and Harry feared for a moment he had inflated him, but then his
uncle roared "HOW - DARE - YOU - INSULT - MY - SON!"

Harry barely had time to register what was happening before the album was snatched out
of his hands and he was hauled to his feet. "No one - especially you - EVER insults MY son. You
are not half of what my son is." Vernon was grasping Harry's arm above the elbow so tightly that
Harry could feel the circulation being cut off.

Harry was getting a little nervous. He could see an furious glint in his uncles eye. But he
didn't want to back down now. He swore to himself that he would never, ever, apologize to the
Dursleys. "F-frankly, Vernon, I'd be surprised if *anyone* was half what Dudley is . . ."

SMACK! Harry felt a burn on his cheek, and for a moment thought Vernon had hit him.
Hedwig gave a loud screech from her cage. But Harry soon realized it wasn't Vernon who hit him
at all. It was Petunia.

"We took you in and all you can do is insult *our* Dudders. You deserve to die just as
your parents did. You deserve to be murdered, to feel pain, to feel someone take your life away
just as my worthless sister and her drunkard husband did. You've brought nothing but shame to
this family, and I won't have any more of it!"

Harry wrenched out of Vernon's grasp and put a hand to his cheek. He tasted metallic
blood in his mouth and knew that he cut the inside of his lip on his teeth. He looked at his aunt in
shock, not believing her capable of such actions. He couldn't move, and realized too late that
Vernon's hand was reaching out to grab his hair. Vernon pushed him onto his knees and he felt a
heavy foot connect with his stomach.

For a moment there was no pain, just numbness, then it all hit him at once. His breath left
him and his ribs felt like they must all be broken. He felt another kick, and another, and finally, he
felt an explosion in the back of his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Petunia standing
there with a heavy wooden hockey stick that was broken in two in her hand, looking rather smug.
He fell onto his back gasping for breath and clutching his ribs. He laid his head back, and felt
another explosion as his new wound connected with the floor.

"That will teach you to insult our son, you worthless piece of trash. We're leaving now, but
we're taking your *family* with us." Vernon sneered. "Petunia, get the album."

"No, no - please. I promise not to do it again. Please . . . don't . . ." He fought his aunt for
the album, pulled it close to his chest. He felt a foot connect with the side of his head, and let go of
the book to grab at his head. He heard Vernon laugh and the words: "Learned his lesson, he did."
The feet were walking away. "But we may need to teach him more soon. So much to learn . . ."
The door closed on his relatives, and he heard a lock being turned.

Harry felt a swimming in his stomach and a dizziness in his head. He tried to get up, but
that just made the room spin. Hedwig's terrified screeches grated on his brain. His last thought
before he passed out were worry over his album, and how much he wished he was still being
ignored.

Things were defiantly not normal on number four Privet Drive.











A/N: Please tell me what you think. Should I go on, or just remove the story and pretend it never
happened? I am fairly satisfied with this first chapter, but then again, I am a little biased. If you
have any ideas, or anything you want to happen, feel free to tell me in your review, I might use it.
If no one has any ideas, that's okay, because I have a pretty good idea now of where this is going.
Thanks!