Harry Potter was not being punished.

He had only returned from school two weeks ago. He hadn't mentioned a word about Hogwarts to the Dursleys. Hadn't argued or fought with Dudley. And he kept his school books and supplies tucked away in his closet so the sight of them wouldn't bother Uncle Vernon. And though he had yet been able to release Hedwig for a night flight, she had been doing her best to also remain silent and unobtrusive. Harry knew this strange peace in number four Privet Drive wouldn't last forever, but he knew to appreciate it while he could.

So, despite the fact that Harry wasn't being punished, he was still sitting in the darkness of the cupboard under the stairs, with only a dim torch for a small light.

Harry touched the corners of the photograph. It was quite old, he knew, but obviously well cared for. Most of the photos Hagrid had given him were worn and creased and faded. But this one was crisp and fresh, despite being the oldest of them all. His mother, who looked to be about his age now, sat in a swing, pumping her legs to go higher and higher. She was laughing loudly, and talking to someone just behind the camera. Harry couldn't hear her and he wondered if only painted portraits, like those at Hogwarts, could make sound.

He looked at the houses, just barely visible, behind her. It looked to be a normal muggle neighborhood, though it could be magical, Harry supposed. He had never visited a wizarding suburb and he wondered if they even existed. They had to, he rationalized, because he couldn't see how Ron or his family could live in a place like Privet Drive.

Lily dug her feet into the dirt. Standing up and walking towards the camera. She made a silly grimace, using her fingers to pull at her lips. Then she looked up at the cameraman and burst into another bout of uncontrollable laughter.

Harry wondered where Professor Snape lived during the summer.

Suddenly, there was heavy footsteps from the hallway upstairs. Harry quickly tucked the picture in his shirt pocket and shut off the light. Then, as quietly as possible, he existed the cupboard. Scampering into the kitchen, he quickly poured himself a glass of water, turning just as Aunt Petunia entered. She was in her bathrobe, hair still in curlers, and was startled by Harry's presence.

"What are you doing?" she sneered, her voice more snappish from being caught off guard.

"Thirsty," Harry murmured, taking another gulp. He would not reveal where he had been hiding. He didn't really understand it himself.

She glared at him distrustfully for a moment, before walking over to the stove and setting the kettle on. "Well, if you're awake, might as well be some use. Get breakfast started!"

Harry nodded and finished his water. He began to pull out the bacon and butter from the fridge, setting them on the counter. It was Tuesday and Uncle Vernon would be up early. Dudley, probably as well, because he was still on his school's earlier schedule. Aunt Petunia finished making her tea, then sat down at the table to read some letters.

Harry eyed her with just a little bit of jealously. He had only been back two weeks, but he had expected some letters from Ron or Hermione. He desperately wished that he could send Hedwig out to them, but Uncle Vernon threatened to shoot her if he saw her in the sky. Harry also wished he could get a letter from Professor Snape, though he wasn't exactly sure why. He would have no idea what to say to the teacher if he were to get a letter. But on some level, Harry wished he could just confirm that the man was real. That Hogwarts was real. That he had friends now.

Harry began to cook the bacon and wondered if he should stop hiding in his cupboard whenever he couldn't sleep.

Just as the toast was popping up, Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen, in an oddly good mood. Apparently his sucking up at work was beginning to pay off and one of his bosses was thinking of coming over to dinner. "Petunia! It smells delicious in here!" He leaned over and gave a sloppy kiss.

Aunt Petunia tittered in a disturbing, girlish way. "Oh Vernon!"

Harry didn't point out that it was because of his cooking that the kitchen smelled good. Dudley soon came rumbling down the stairs, giving Harry his customary glare, before submitting himself to being hugged by his mother. Harry put the toast on the table as he finished up the last of the bacon. Vernon was already praising himself for his work the past couple of weeks, expounding on how his superiors had finally noticed what an asset to the company he was. Aunt Petunia looked enthralled, clutching her tea with excitement. Dudley was too busy already shoving his face with food to listen.

As Harry put the bacon on the table, and witnessed the purely magical act of his cousin and uncle inhaling it without choking or burning themselves, he buttered his own toast.

"'Arry!" Dudley sputtered over his mouth full of bacon. "Gimme the butter!"

Harry, feeling just a little irritated, replied. "You forgot the magic word."

The scene froze. Aunt Petunia looked to have swallowed a lemon. Dudley looked terrified, as if he had been struck by lightening. And Uncle Vernon…he looked ready to strangle Harry.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY, BOY?!"

And suddenly Harry's summer became much worse.

A/N: This has been months overdue. Mostly because my writing schedule is more than a little hectic. But in lieu of my first ebook having been published in July (please look to my profile and subsequent blog for more details) I've decided that I should really start posting chapters. As a warning, updates will be (at best) sporadic. But I figure all those who have been waiting for a sequel should at least get what I've written so far.