Kneeling beside a worn, cardboard box, Harry Potter blew off a sheet of dust that covered the top and hooked his fingers around the edges to pull apart the flaps.  He was instantly greeted with exactly what he had been expecting - Dudley's old clothes.  It had been like this for the last three boxes, so why should the fourth be any different.  Rolling his eyes at some unknown force (be it his Aunt Petunia or just his dumb luck in life), Harry shut the box and pushed it aside without bothering to dig through.

Ever since graduating from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry some four months ago, Harry had been trying to make his newly purchased flat feel like something of a home.  After countless shopping expeditions to either Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade, Hermione's good sense had finally urged him to unpack his Hogwarts trunk.  It did some good to have his familiar school things placed about, books on shelves and Potions ingredients properly shunned forever in the basement, but something still felt like it was missing.  Things could have gone terribly awry when Harry showed back up at Privet Drive, but when Uncle Vernon heard that all Harry wanted was to take some of their unwanted junk out of the attic (also known as the precious few things they had saved from Harry's youth), he was tolerant enough to permit Harry's entrance.

Up in the dusty attic of theirs, Harry had lugged every single box marked with his name down the stairs and out to his car.  It took a few trips, and Harry could hear Ron's voice telling him the whole time about how impractical it was to use a muggle vehicle, but Harry finally managed to bring all the boxes back to his flat.  He had been tired, exhausted, and wanted to complain to a friend, but as he could never properly defend his car to Ron or explain to Hermione why he didn't just shrink the boxes (a thought that only occurred to him after he had unloaded the last box), Harry decided to go about unpacking.

So far, there had been very little luck.  Harry had been wondering why the Dursleys saved so many things of Harry's when they despised him so much and how he could possibly need to bring so many boxes when he was certain he never had these many things as a child.  After he sorted through the first box, he had his answer.  Most of the things they had saved either once belonged to Dudley before Harry or was broken by Dudley far before it had even been fortunate enough to fall into Harry's hands.  Still, he persisted.  There had to be something that they overlooked and threw into the box.  Didn't Harry ever have anything that was his own?

As he opened the next box, it appeared he was wrong.  There were scraps of a worn leather belt that Harry figured he must have used to keep his pants from falling down, especially if the large khaki trousers he pulled out next were any indication.  Though they would probably be a few inches too short and show his ankles (here, Harry's thoughts turned to Ron, which he felt guilty for instantly), he couldn't imagine even filling these things out now.  How had he possibly managed to live in these when he was much smaller?

"It's no wonder I didn't have friends," muttered Harry, almost smiling.

More of Dudley's old clothes came out of the box, which were followed by a broken Play Station and a couple of books that looked like they had never been opened.  There were no old school photographs in the box as would be expected because the Dursleys had never paid to have pictures of Harry taken.  Even if they had, it was very unlikely that Uncle Vernon would have kept them or ever put them out around the house.  For one, it would take away from Dudley's precious space, and Harry's hair would have driven him to the point of insanity.  Harry's lips curled up at the corners as he pondered this thought, tossing aside a sneaker that was falling apart.  That had to be his.  Dudley never wore his sneakers out this much.  Watching television and playing games on his computer didn't wear out the soles of the shoes, but running from Dudley and his gang sure did.

Harry's fingers stilled as he reached the bottom of the box, and his breath caught in his throat, his bitter mood at thinking of running from Dudley's gang forgotten.  Reaching in, he pulled out a pair of worn, boys sneakers, a plastic baggie filled with red and white toy soldiers, and a thick, paper bound book.  Setting the sneakers aside carefully, Harry ran his fingers over the curves of the plastic toys before wrapping the plastic around them and placing them in the shoe.  Last, he looked down at the book and ran his fingers over the dusty cover.

The paper was worn at the edges and what Harry remembered to once be a vibrant black that almost matched his hair had turned to a dull, washed out grey.  There were tears in the cover and the papers were wrinkled, but it was still in fairly good condition and not at all hard to make out the words to the cover - Little Whinging Primary, 1991.  The only yearbook Harry had ever gotten in his life through an accident of the printers that Harry had always suspected never occurred.  It had been the last nice thing that happened to him before he had accidentally released the Brazilian Boa Constrictor at the zoo was only left out of cupboard under the stairs to go to school, where Dudley told all the kids about how Harry had been trying to make friends with snakes at the zoo.  Apparently, making friends with snakes was pathetic and not at all cool.

Opening the cover of the yearbook, Harry looked over the inscription that Miss Hudson, his fifth year teacher, wrote in the cover.  He had always thought Miss Hudson bought the yearbook for him since he had never been especially popular and was often teased for everything from his hair to his shoes.  Skipping to the back, Harry found the few messages his classmates had written, and he began to read.

Harry,

I had a great year in class with you!  Hope to see you at Stonewall High!  I hear Dudley isn't going there so maybe we can be friends and I won't have to run away from Gordon.  Maybe we can even go trick or treating.  You would make a very convincing beetle.  Don't let your aunt and uncle get you down.  See you in September.