The Rise of Harry Potter

The rest of the cupboard wasn't much better. It certainly wasn't fit for human habitation. Mould and mildew rotted the floor panels from wet shoes and thick cobwebs cushioned any sharp edges. The single lightbulb hanging overhead had long since burned out and no-one had ever bothered to change it.

When Harry told them that there was no way that a small boot cupboard was at all sanitary or decent enough for someone to live in, Vernon had shouted at him angrily for an hour about how ungrateful he was that they took him in. Harry thought about contacting his parents, or anyone really, to complain or retract his agreement… before he realized that he had no way to do so.

Post owls didn't just swoop by whenever a wizard wanted to send a letter, he couldn't just use any old bird, and even if he could, he had no way of knowing where his parents even were.

He was now alone.

The muggles seemed worried at first. They kept the window curtains drawn and talked in hushed, paranoid whispers. Vernon had to use some of his saved-up holiday days and he made absolutely no secret about how much he resented Harry for it, ranting about what a waste Harry was and how he wasn't welcome here.

(Harry wasn't welcome in his own home, so he wasn't quite sure what to think with even the Dursley's not wanting him.)

A week passed without incident and Vernon returned to work. The curtains were opened and Harry was set to work with a long list of odd jobs to do around the house.

Most of his tasks were lowly even for a house elf: pulling weeds and replanting flowers; washing the wooden panels; or hand-scrubbing oil stains on the concrete driveway. All of it was meaningless busywork. It was just time consuming and more than anything else, degrading.

Harry had been washing the floors with a quiet, intense focus, when Dudley casually waddled in and kicked over the bucket of dirty water, sending it spilling everywhere. Aunt Petunia had shrieked in anger about how her clean floors were now filthy and how Harry couldn't do anything right.

'Maybe that's why your freaky family got rid of you! You can't do anything right, you waste of space!'

Of course, she'd refused to believe him when he told her that it was all Dudley's fault. There was no way her precious Dudders did anything like that. She sent him to his cupboard without supper.

At night, he managed to see just the smallest bit through the ventilation flaps on the cupboard door. It was just enough light to find the thin sheets and nestle in the near silence, until he woke up again from stomping steps just overhead.

It took over three weeks for his lightbulb to be properly fixed and Harry himself had to be the one to mend it, though he accidentally cut himself while doing so. When Aunt Petunia bemoaned some sort of muggle disease that you caught from rusty metal, he looked at her blankly, not quite understanding. His mother's lessons hadn't gone that far.

That was when she had realized that his upbringing was very different from normal, respectable children. He didn't need to attend public school. He already knew how to read and write and he'd already learned the expected mathematics. He already knew everything that a wizard was expected to know before going to Hogwarts. He was already well ahead of other children his age and honestly, he was rather baffled with how his cousin was struggling with his school work.

When they realised that Harry wouldn't be going to public school with his cousin, Petunia started giving him a longer list of tasks to do, while Vernon installed an external lock on his cupboard. They tried to get into his trunk, but thankfully magic locks were impossible for muggles to open and they'd quickly given up on the task.

Harry's diet now mostly consisted of scraps, or the most burn edges of whatever food he'd struggled to make that day. Most of it bordered the fine line between barely edible and toxic.

Toilet breaks were restricted and outdoor privileges were established and the part of Harry's heart that hated them flourished in the depravity.

Alone in his cupboard, Harry came to a realisation, an epiphany of sorts that crept up on him over this first month rather than arriving suddenly. His mother knew what the Dursleys were like. She'd been aware of how cruel and selfish they were. And she'd still hoped that Harry would choose to accept this life and leave them, because it was convenient.

It was then, that very moment, that Harry found himself hating Lily just a bit.

....

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