Hello. This is mainly for girls who have read every harry potter book, but still wanted more... ;)

Chapter 1: The Boy Who Lived.

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense….

The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it….

The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the potters had a small son too, but they had never seen him…

They didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that….

"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard-"

"-Yes, their son, Harry-"

"Harry. Nasty common name, if you ask me…"

"To Harry Potter- the boy who lived"

Living in a cupboard under the stairs isn't so bad once you get used to it. I'd say 8 years is long enough to get used to almost anything. It was quite a routine, Aunt Petunia rapping her bony knuckles against the door and screeching at me to, "Get up! Now boy, there are chores to be done." Usually, I'd stall, making a show of actually WAKING up before GETTING up. But there's a time when celerity is divine, and Uncle Vernon's birthday was not a time for slowness.

"COMB YOUR HAIR!" With a sizzle, a slice of bacon fell off the spatula and onto the floor. There was a shriek, then a growl and a loud crack. Suddenly I was staring at the bacon on the floor, my face an inch away from it, my face stinging terribly. My ears were abruptly ringing, I could tell someone was shouting, but I couldn't focus on what they were saying. I chastised myself; I should've been prepared for him to say that, it wasn't the first time… so there was no reason for me to jump. Aunt Petunia was severely OCD, and hated messes. And Uncle Vernon made sure she was happy. Cringing as the volume increased, I looked up, Uncle Vernon was shouting, of course he was….he only had two modes, coddling Dudley, and shouting at Harry. His face was purple, his fist at his face, pulling hairs out of his mustache… again. Grunting hard as pain shoots through my stomach, I clutch myself into a ball, I stare at the floor; chastising myself again. I knew better than to look him in the face, I don't know why I always do things I know I shouldn't…