I suppose this story starts out like any other, on an ordinary day, in an ordinary neighborhood, in an ordinary house. And in this cozy setting with its stone wall and neat cut hedges, lives the plain, ordinary Dursleys; a family that lives a wholesome, normal life…or at least they’d like to think.

For you see, the Dursleys (as ordinary as they are) have a not so ordinary problem; Harry Potter. Harry, is Mr. and Mrs. Dursleys nephew, who was left in their care for the age of not quite one. They tried to bring him up as a normal boy with a normal life, none of that wishy-washy magic stuff.

But a twist of fate, brought adventures of the most extraordinary kind to Harry’s life…for you see, Harry is a wizard. And a wizard in training at that!

It was early morning when our story starts. Aunt Petunia was busily cooking up breakfast in the kitchen; eggs and bacon with a buttered biscuit. Uncle Vernon sat at the table with an unfolded newspaper and a mug of coffee to tie him over. Dudley, who was Harry’s age, sat in the living room watching television.

Harry had not yet woken, though Aunt Petunia would seize that courtesy if she had the chance.

It was not Aunt Petunia’s shrill voice calling him down though that woke Harry, but the soft swoop of wings as something large landed a bit clumsily on his pillow. Harry cautiously opened one eye to inspect his rude awakening.

His waker hooted sharply and dropped two pieces of parchment in front of him.

"Hedwig," said Harry, reaching out to stroke the owl’s glossed, white feathers. Hedwig hooted appreciatively in response.

"What’ve you got for me?" asked Harry in a bemused tone, picking up the first letter. It was from Hogwarts.

Harry put the letter back in it’s envelope and placed it safely on his bedside table. He picked up the second letter, which was clearly from his best friend, Ron Weasley.

Harry smiled and put the letter down. It felt like ages since he had last seen his friends at Hogwarts. He sighed and pulled himself out of bed. Pulling on his jeans and shirt, Harry trudged downstairs for another miserable day with the Dursley’s.

The smell of freshly cooked bacon drifted to his nostrils at the kitchen door once downstairs.

"It’s about time!" yelled Aunt Petunia shrilly, brandishing her spatula at him as Harry walked into the kitchen.

"It’s not my fault," protested Harry, slumping into a chair.

"It most certainly is your fault," said Petunia, pouring a serving of eggs on four plates. "Dudley! Come get your breakfast."

Mealtime was the only time Dudley Dursley ran, for he didn’t want to miss out on ever the smallest bite of food. Dudley plopped himself across the table from Harry, eyeing the plate instantly with a greedy eye. He wasted not a moment, shoveling mouthfuls of omelet into his large mouth.

"I want to the amusement park today," announced Dudley through a mouthful of eggs.

"Sure thing," Uncle Vernon said submissively, not even looking up from his morning paper. Harry wondered silently, whether or not uncle Vernon had even heard Dudley’s self-centered proposal.

Harry smiled though, for they seemed to have forgotten him; perhaps, for once, they would leave him to himself for a little while.

It was at that moment—just when Harry thought it looked as if everything was going his way for once—that a giant, tawny owl swooped through the open window with a letter clutched in it’s beak. The owl landed on the table with one foot in the milk bowl. Aunt Petunia screamed and leapt away from the bird in a start.

Uncle Vernon on the other hand, went a nasty shade of purple and lunged at the bird. The owl screeched in fright and took flight, leaving its letter in Harry’s breakfast.

"GET THAT OWL OUT OF HERE…NOW!" roared Uncle Vernon in an outrage, taking another swipe that the feathered animal. "I’LL RING ITS RUDDY NECK IF I GET A HOLD OF IT!"

Harry pocketed his letter and with a nimble leap, snatched the large owl out of the air and ran to his room, taking the stairs two at a time. Uncle Vernon could still be heard going on about foul creatures and a lazy way to deliver mail and such.

Harry tried to smooth out the horribly ruffled animal and set it on his bedpost.

Hedwig hooted in disapproval of the messy looking tawny.

Harry took out his letter and took no haste tearing it open. Immediately, he recognized the neat writing of Hermione.

"You’ve no idea," said Harry out loud.

Harry, without hesitation, turned over the letter and scribbled that he’d love to come. Returning the letter to its envelope, Harry tied it to the owl’s leg and letting the creature out the window.

Harry turned away. He supposed he had at best let the Dursley’s know that he was going.

***

Harry sat on the couch in the living room with the Dursley’s. After telling them his news, Uncle Vernon had not seemed pleased and was in a sour temper.

"I suppose they’ll come in a car," grunted Uncle Vernon haughtily.

"Yes," said Harry, eyeing his trunk, packed and ready to go. Aunt Petunia kept casting Harry a dark look that clearly told him that she wasn’t at all pleased that he had said he would go without even bothering to ask if it was all right.

Though, in the long run, Harry was quite certain that they were actually pleased to have the last few weeks of vacation, Harry-free.

There was a sudden sound of a car door slamming and a moment later, a knocking was heard on the door. Uncle Vernon scowled and got up to answer the door.

When Uncle Vernon opened the door, a tall, slender man stood there. His hair was thick and brown, just as Hermione’s was and when he smiled, Harry could see that his teeth were perpetually white and straight.

He extended his right hand for Uncle Vernon to shake, though Uncle Vernon did not make any move to do so himself.

"Hello, I’m Mr. Granger. You must be Harry’s Uncle, Mr. Dursley I presume?" Mr. Granger seemed a little nervous as he spoke. His hand withdrew emptily once he realized that Uncle Vernon wasn’t going to shake it.

Uncle Vernon responded with and uncivilized grunt.

"Well," said Mr. Granger, "I guess I’ll just be taking the boy and going then." Mr. Granger fought to put on a small smile, obviously feeling a little awkward in this situation. Harry felt it his duty to break the silence.

"Let me just get my things and we can go," he said hastily; perhaps a little too hastily, for Uncle Vernon gave him an unwelcome, dirty look.

Harry ignored it though, putting on his jacket and pulled his trunk to the front door where Mr. Granger helped him lift it.

"Well then, I guess we’ll be going," said Mr. Granger once again attempting a smile that wasn’t returned. Dudley huddled behind his mother on the couch, and not once did Uncle Vernon give them an acknowledging farewell.

"Bye," said Harry with a slight tone of cheer in his voice that was obviously the way Uncle Vernon’s face reddened just as the front door closed.