"Wake up boy" a disgruntled high-pitched feminine voice said to the youngest member of the house. "It's our Dudley's birthday, and I want everything to be perfect."

"Yes Aunt Petunia," the boy replied. He dusted off his slightly broken glasses before forcibly sliding them on his face. The glasses were made for him when he was 8, and they did not fit him anymore. He opened the door to face another day of fresh hell.

"Boy" another rusty sounding voice yelled out to him. When he was four, he thought that his name was boy, because he was only ever referred to as boy or freak, and he knew that freak could not be a name. He only finally figured out his name on the first day of kindergarten, when the teacher called out the name Harry Potter. Harry's thoughts were interrupted by the return of the harsh grating voice. "Boy, I want the breakfast done right this time. Dudley's birthday is today, and nothing is going to go wrong. DO YOU UNDERSTAND." he yelled.

"Yes Uncle Vernon," Harry said, showing no emotion on his face. Inwardly, though, he smirked. Dudley always got large and extravagant gifts for his birthday, gifts that were worth a lot of money. And for some reason or another- cough cough- these gifts never made it past the first week. The blame could never be traced back to Harry, as he always had airtight alibies. With a heart full of pride, Harry moved to the kitchen to cook the breakfast. "Let's see" he inwardly mused. "Standard pancakes for Dudley, coated with copious amounts of sugar to give him that extra kick he needs for the day, until he gets a sugar crash. That should make his birthday a bit more exciting. For Vernon, How about a bit of scrambled eggs, mixed with ickle Diddlykin's special protein powder that makes everything taste so good. And for Petunia, a fair bit of bacon should do the trick, coated vigorously with butter so that she can lose that extra pound. Coming right up." He once again inwardly smirked as he proceeded to ruin everyone's breakfast. He had been the reason that every once in a while, Dudley would have a major headache in class right after not being able to sit straight, Petunia would gain and lose weight erratically, and Vernon would go to work in a terrible mood. It was a form of revenge that he had developed over the years for all of the trouble he had to go through.

BAM BAM BAM. It seemed that Dudley had woken up and then proceeded to jump on the fifth stair repeatedly, the stair right above the cupboard in which young Harry lived in. Harry once again inwardly smirked. It would seem that he would be able to find another source of revenge. Harry noticed at a very young age that his guardians would not treat him fairly, and, inspired by Roald Dahl's Matilda, a book that he borrowed from the school library, he resolved to add the Potter criminal justice system to the Dursley household. Harry resolved that the stair that Dudley pounded on would soon crash under Dudley's weight, and he would be stuck in a very tight situation. Dudley proceeded to stomp down the rest of the stairs and haughtily walked into the kitchen of the Dursley residence. He sat down and greedily gobbled up the pancake that Harry had finished making with a large amount of maple syrup. Harry then proceeded to serve Petunia and Vernon their meals, inwardly laughing at Vernon grimacing at the taste of his eggs, and Petunia eating the bacon readily, not knowing that it was full of butter. Harry, of course, was not allowed to eat "normal people food", and was instead subject to eating a piece of stale bread or two. When Dudley was finished with his meal, he proceeded to inspect the bevy of presents at his feet.

"37! I got 38 last year." Harry again inwardly smirked. "But how many lasted longer than two weeks?" he thought with a grin.

"Calm down Dudders. How about we go to the zoo, and I'll buy you two more presents there. How does that sound pumpkin?" Petunia simpered. Apparently appeased by this, Dudley once again became the hog he was, and proceeded to unwrap the plethora of gifts he received. "Oh cool. I got boxing gloves. Hey freak, wanna fight," Dudley said. Harry sighed. "Not this again." Recently, Dudley had been taking an interest in boxing, and he would force Harry to fight him. The first time, Harry easily predicted Dudley's moves, and gave him a bloody nose. That turned into a beating by Vernon with a fire poker. So now, whenever Dudley wanted to fight, he would only dodge and never fight back. He walked over to Dudley who had put on the boxing gloves. Apparently, it had not registered to Dudley that hits hurt less with the gloves than without them, and he was actually putting himself at a disadvantage. Harry sidestepped an overly obvious punch, ducked under a hook, stepped back from an uppercut, and mived his head from the path of another punch. It really was very easy to fight Dudley. Although if he landed a hit, it would hurt badly due to his high weight, Dudley could never land a hit on Harry because his moves were very predictable, and he usually tired himself out. At the end of their boxing match, Dudley did not touch Harry once, and was visibly weezing from effort as he told Harry "Screw you, I win." Petunia clapped as Vernon pat his son on the back for a job well done. Dudley flushed with pride.

"We should get going. Boy, go to that cat person's house." Petunia said as she picked up the phone to call Ms. Figgs.

"Yes Aunt Petunia," Harry replied as he walked over to Ms. Figg's house. Ms. Figg was fun to mess with, and she left many valuables lying around the house. These valuables usually found their way into the stash. The stash was Harry's secret collection of the stuff he stole. He had a contact, a boy named Jeremy, who would sell his stuff to outsiders at a ten percent fee. This money fed Harry and gave him toys and entrertainment, so that instead of looking malnourished, Harry looked quite respectable for a boy his age- handsome even. Of course, he could not use his toys in his house for fear of Vernon or Petunia catching him, but he could still play with them at times.

Aunt Petunia slammed the phone down. "Change of plans. One of Ms. Figg's cat is sick." The front door opened as a rat-looking boy walked into the house. Piers Polkiss, neighborhood menace casually strolled into the house with Dudley following soon after. Apparently, Dudley had run off to find his best friend to take him to the zoo.

"Freak, you're coming with us too," Vernon said. Harry shrugged. While he would have preferred to go to Figg's house and taken a few things that caught his eye, he had never been to a zoo before, and he wanted to go to see what it was like. He was about to leave with the others when Vernon had brought him back, saying "Freak, no funny business."

"Ah yes," Harry though. His accomplice in crime was his 'funny business'. Whenever he was almost caught, his 'funny business', for lack of a better phrase, would act up. With it, he was capable of traveling anywhere he wanted to go in a second. He slowly gained conscious control over his traveling method. He called it teleportation, and he used it frequently. He frequented many stores with a mask over his face, and took whatever he wanted then teleported out. He did not care if it was stealing, as his conscience disappeared when he turned 5. He did not have the luxury to consider morals, or right and wrong. He just needed to survive, a hard task with all the beatings that he went through. But even then, his 'funny business' healed him up very quickly, leaving him ready to go the next day. Eventually, he obtained mental control over his pain senses, and when he knew that he was going to have a beating, he retreated to a corner of his mind so that he could numb the pain. It did not fully work, but it was better than nothing.

"Of course, Uncle Vernon," Harry replied.

"Good" Vernon said.

Harry walked out of the house and into the large car that the Dursleys owned, excited by what the trip to the zoo would hold for him.