Hey I had this edited so it should be the new and improved verson...at least a little bit...the rest is getting edited as well and I'm working on chapter 11 as well so that should be up soon! thanks for your massive pacients! CodeRomance

He lay there thinking about many things. He wondered, not for the first time, the time. He didn't have a clock or a watch. Heck, he didn't have much of anything. The house was silent so that meant it was before seven o'clock. He shifted restlessly on the small bed in the closet under the stairs. That was where he slept. It was a closet, under the stairs. This had always been his room - if you could call it that.

It was two days until his birthday. Two days until he turned eleven. Not that it mattered much. His uncle Vernon and aunt Petunia didn't acknowledge it. He got thrown an old pair of socks and some of Dudley's old clothes, which were too big for him. This was his present and the only time he got "new clothes." They didn't say anything to him except to get the breakfast made and move along to the rest of his chores. It was just another day, really, nothing to look forward to. He didn't even know when he had found out it was his birthday. For a while, he didn't even know he had one. It must have just clicked because that was the only day of the year when he would get something. He didn't get anything on Christmas though he knew it was Christmas because Dudley got loads of stuff. But that was life. It had been this way since he could remember.

"BOY! Get up! Time to make breakfast, you lazy no good for nothing git!" his uncle Vernon shouted thru the door.

He said this every morning to him. It was a wonder he even knew his own name. Nobody called him by his name, only his aunt did, and that was seldom. He heard the lock click open. He was allowed out now. Just then, Dudley came running down the stairs, jumping and making as much noise as possible. As the closet door opened, and he started to step out Dudley ran by, shoving him into the closet, and slamming the door shut. It was a normal, typical morning at the Dursley's. His uncle came out of the kitchen.

"BOY! What are you doing? Get your lazy behind out here this instant and make breakfast! And no slamming the doors or you won't eat for the rest of the day!"
"The Boy" did just that. He came out, mumbled a "sorry" and walked into the kitchen to make eggs, bacon, and toast. This was his favorite time of day. He loved to cook though he would never tell the Dursley's that, else they take it away from him. Ever since he had been old enough he had made breakfast.

Aunt Petunia had taught him to cook and ever since she had he had loved it. That day she taught him to cook had, been the best day of his life. It was the first time his aunt was nice to him. After that day, she was nice every so often but very rarely and only when Uncle Vernon and Dudley weren't around. She would give him extra food or tell him to skip a chore and she would take care of it. It happened rarely, but it did and for that, he loved his aunt. His uncle he didn't love and certainly not Dudley. However, his aunt Petunia he did love for he knew deep down she was a good person. Though, his aunt had been acting differently. It was almost as if she were afraid of him. Sure, she had always kept her distance, but she had never shied away from him before. He was a little mystified by it, but he shook it off.

He finished with breakfast, put it on three plates, and put it on the table. Everyone was sitting down. Dudley greedily took the plate and started shoveling the food into his mouth while keeping his eyes glued to the TV he had gotten for his birthday.

"BOY! Get me some more coffee!" Uncle Vernon barked.

He grabbed the cup and poured more coffee into it and gave it back to uncle Vernon. Then he sat down with his cereal and ate. When he was done, he gathered up the dishes and started the washing up. When he had finished, he moved on to all the other chores that he had now that it was summer. At around three in the afternoon, he was finished. His uncle had left for work at eight, so he went to ask his aunt if he could go outside.

"Aunt Petunia?" he asked meekly. "Can I go outside? I've finished all my chores."

"Yes," she said quietly. She looked at him suspiciously. "Be back by six for dinner."

"Yes ma'am," he whispered. He walked outside and had to shield his eyes from the sun. After being inside all day the bright light was hard to get used to. He walked slowly, savoring his time outside. He headed toward the park and hoped no one was there. It was his sanctuary. As he came to the gate, he saw that there was someone there. A girl, about his age maybe a little younger, was sitting on the swings, a book in her lap. He heard a laugh from her that cared through the wind. She had flaming red hair, and he was startled for a moment by how delicate she seemed. She was beautiful, for a young girl. He stopped just a little ways away from the swings and just stared at her.

As if sensing someone was there, she looked up and gasped. The book in her hand dropped to the ground and her hand went to her mouth. She stared at him. "Oh my gosh," she murmured. She looked over his face and hair and found what she was looking for. The boy had messy black hair and piercing, emerald eyes. And on his forehead just to the right, he had a lighting bolt scar. "Harry Potter," she whispered.

Harry's gaze sharpened. "How do you know my name?" he asked. He had never seen this girl before so she wasn't from school. Though even if she were he wouldn't know her. He wasn't very popular. Ha! He had no friends.

"Everyone knows your name." She smiled. She stood up slowly, her book forgotten. "You're the most famous person in the wizarding world. You're the only one to have survived the killing curse, the one who vanquished the Dark Lord. I can't believe I'm actually meeting you." she walked forward, toward him. Harry backed away. The girl kept advancing and Harry kept retreating until he could retreat no more. "You look just like your father except you have your mother's eyes."

"You-you've met my father?" he whispered shocked, "and my mother?"

The girl frowned. "No, but I've seen lots of pictures. My Mum and Dad talk about them all the time. They were brave people, Harry. Very brave." She looked at him regarding him thoughtfully. "Have you got your letter yet? You are about the right age."

"What letter?" Harry asked confused, surprised, and a little nervous.

"Your letter to Hogwarts!" she laughed.

"Hogwarts? What's that?" Harry asked not quite getting it.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, don't tell me you don't know." The girl looked at him surprised.

"Know what? And what is this school?" Harry asked getting more frustrated by the minute.

"Know what? Oh my, you really don't know, do you?" Harry shook his head. "You're wizard, Harry." She murmured quietly.

"A what?" he asked puzzled

"A wizard. Basically, it's someone who can do magic." Harry looked skeptical. "I know what your thinking, 'Magic's not real,' but it is. I'm a witch. And you're a wizard. That's what Hogwarts is, a school for kids like us. Your parents went there. My parents went and now I have brothers that go there too. My two oldest brothers have already graduated. I have three who are there now and one who starts this year like you. I'm not supposed to start until next year but I have actually gotten my letter already. We were all surprised at that and my youngest brother, Ron, is very jealous. But enough about me, what do you know about your parents?" the girl rambled on.

Harry who was trying to take it all in answered, "I don't know much. Um only that they died in a car crash, and that they were unemployed."

"WHAT! That's it! And that's not even true. Died in a car crash? No jobs? Oh Lord, Harry you really don't know who you are, do you? Your parents are famous, Harry. Just like you. They were killed, murdered by You-Know-Who. He was the most evil wizard of our time... well actually it was our parents' time. Some say he's still around but we don't know for sure. Haven't you ever wondered about the scar on your forehead? He gave it to you. He tried to kill you and it left that mark. Nobody knows how you survived. After all you were just baby. Your parents were killed, but you weren't. That's why you're famous. That's why you have that scar. Your parents didn't die in a car crash and they were the best Aurors of their time!" the girl inhaled because she was talking so fast.

"What is an Auror and who was the Dark Lord and why would he want to kill my parents or me for that matter?" Harry asked baffled.

"An Auror is someone who fights and captures dark wizards and I don't know why You-Know-Who would want to kill you or your parents. Why did he want to kill anyone? More power is the only answer I can come up with." The girl smiled sadly. "The world is corrupt, Harry. It always has been and always will be." She looked at her watch and gasped, "Oh no! I've got to get back. You should be getting your letter soon, Harry! I'll see you at the train station. Platform 9 ¾, at Kings Cross! Look for me!" the girl called as she ran from the park.

"WAIT! I don't even know your name, and I have so many questions." Harry yelled after her, but it was too late, she was gone.

Harry sighed, even more confused then ever. A wizard, his parents had been wizards. He was a wizard, a famous one at that and didn't even really know why, Harry thought. Well I best get back. Dinner will be ready and I bet I'm late so I'll get into trouble. Oh well, I wonder if the Dursley's know anything about this. They probably did and didn't tell me. Are my uncle and aunt wizards? And if they are, why didn't they tell me that I am one? Too many questions and no answers, Harry sighed. He walked up the drive to number four, Privet Drive.

"Boy! You're late again! Dinner's been ready for 20 minutes!" his uncle bellowed as he walked in the door. It was going to be a long night.