A/N: Ok, well just so that no one gets confused, in this story, everything that happened in the first book until Harry gets the second letter to go to Hogwarts is the same. So he still lives with the Dursleys. Please read and review at the end. Thanks!

Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters. They are all owned by J. K. Rowling but I do own those characters which you don't recognize. Also, most of the dialogue in this chapter belongs to J. K. Rowling as well.

Harry Potter was in the kitchen watching his Aunt Petunia dye the clothes that he was supposed to wear to his new school. At the moment, it was giving off an extremely rotten smell so when he first came into the kitchen and asked what the clothes were, his aunt had told him not to be stupid and that they were part of his new uniform. Harry lived with Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and his cousin Dudley because when he was a baby, his parents were killed in a car crash. The only thing that Harry remembered about the night they died was a flash of green light and what that had to do with a car crash, he had no idea.

Harry was ten at the moment but he looked much younger than that. He was very thin due to the fact that his relatives refused tofeed him sometimes. He had jetblack hair that never stayed down and he had brilliant green eyes. He alsohad a scar on his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt.He supposedly got it from the car crash.

A few moments later, Uncle Vernon and Dudley both came into the kitchen wrinkling their noses in disgust at the smell. Dudley sat down at the table and began banging his Smelting stick, which was a knobbly stick used for hitting each other while teachers weren't looking, on the table. Then as Uncle Vernon opened up his newspaper, there was a small click and a plop. "Get the mail Dudley ," said Vernon from behind his newspaper."

"Make Harry get it."

"Get the mail, Harry."

"Make Dudley get it."

"Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley ."

Harry dodged the stick and went to get the mail. As he walked back to the kitchen from the front door, he browsed through the letters. There was a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and…a letter for Harry. It said:

Mr. H. potter
The Cupboard under the Stairs
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey

No one had ever written to Harry before. He didn't have any friends, no other relatives, and didn't even go to the library for them to send rude letters asking for books back. There was no stamp on it either. Harry turned the letter over and saw purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H.

"Hurry up, boy!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?"

Harry quickly went back into the kitchen and gave Uncle Vernon the other two letters then he sat down in a chair and began to open his. As he was about to read the letter, Dudley shouted, "Dad! Dad, Harry's got something!"

Vernon sharply snatched the letter out of Harry's hand.

"That's mine!" said Harry trying to snatch it back.

"Who'd be writing to you?" sneered Uncle Vernon, glancing at the letter. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. It didn't stop there; within seconds, it was the grayish white of old porridge. "P-P-Petunia!" he gasped

Petunia took the letter of Vernon 's hand and read the first line. She looked like she was about to faint. Petunia clutched her throat and made a choking sound. " Vernon ! Oh my goodness-- Vernon !"

Dudley who also wanted to read the letter, tapped his father on the head with his Smelting stick which resulted in both him and Harry being kicked out of the kitchen.

Harry never got to see the letter. The only thing he heard from his aunt and uncle was something about people spying on them or watching them. Later that evening, Uncle Vernon visited Harry for the first time in his little cupboard.

"Where's my letter?" said Harry the moment Uncle Vernon had squeezed through the door. "Who's writing to me?"

"No one. It was addressed to you by mistake," said Uncle Vernon shortly. "I have burned it."

"It was not a mistake," said Harry angrily, "it had my cupboard on it."

"SILENCE!" yelled Uncle Vernon, and a couple of spiders fell from the ceiling. Then giving a painful smile, he said, "Er- yes-, Harry—about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking…you're really getting a bit big for it…we think it might be nice if you moved into Dudley 's second bedroom."

"Why?" said Harry.

"Don't ask question!" snapped his uncle. "Take this stuff upstairs now."

Harry took all his stuff into the bedroom in one trip. As he looked around, he decided that he would rather still be in his cupboard with his letter than up here in his new room.

The next morning when the post came, Uncle Vernon made Dudley get it. As Dudley banged his Smelting stick on the walls, he suddenly shouted, "There's another one! 'Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive—"

Uncle Vernon leapt up from his seat with a strangled cry and wrestled Dudley to the ground to get the letter. This was a bit difficult since Harry had been following him and had jumped on his back. After a minute of confused fighting, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with Harry's letter in his hand.

"Go to your cupboard—I mean your bedroom," he wheezed at Harry. " Dudley —go—just go."

As Harry left the hall to go upstairs he heard his aunt say, "What should we do now, Vernon ?"

"Keep the letter, Petunia, but we'll write back."

"But what if they come here and demand to take him?"

"We'll send a letter back saying that he's not coming!"

"What?"

"You know, write the letter then send it back the way they send letters. Do you remember how it was done?"

"Yes…yes, I think I do…a bird! Find a bird! There should be one around here, Vernon ."

"Alright then. I'll find that ruddy bird. You write the letter, Petunia."

"If you say so, dear," said his aunt. Then his uncle went outside to find a bird and his aunt went to write a letter. Harry slowly went back to his bedroom thinking. What would they want a bird for? He knew deep down that if he was ever going to find out anything then he would have to find out himself or wait for them to tell him.

The next day, Harry eagerly awaited the post. When it came, he leapt out of his seat to see if there was any mail for him. He browsed through the mail hoping for anything that said Mr. H. Potter, but there was nothing…