The Lost Years

Harry Potter was a strange boy, but for reasons beyond his control. Only his family knew why. His mother had been a bit strange as well, so it was only fitting that she'd run off and marry that strange Potter boy. Or, so Harry's Aunt said. Harry didn't know whether to believe her or not. He didn't know too much of anything when it came to his family; or his mother and father at least. Whenever he asked, his Aunt would snap at him to not ask questions.

That was her answer to everything. Don't ask questions. So, Harry didn't. He would just give himself the answers to what his parents were, what they did, and why they died. He never thought to ask about his scar, like the finicky child he was, he never thought there was a connection.

Not that his Aunt or Uncle knew either. For no explanation had been given. Un-known to Harry, that when that stranger left him on the doorstep of Number 4, Privet Drive, there had been a small note, and a cardboard box. Nothing more. Unbeknownst to Harry, that the note described how the young boy's parents died to save him from a crazy man. It gave a brief story of how the young man now had no where else to go, so he was being dropped on his un-willing Aunt and Uncle's doorstep. It also advised them, that the box was for Harry, and Harry alone. It would not open to their touch, and once placed in their attic, began to glow faintly. It was packed away, and never spoken of again.

And so, it is that way that poor young Harry came to live at Number 4, Privet Drive.