Y/n L/n and the Philosopher's Stone, A HP reader insert - DISCONTINUED

The Vanishing Glass

Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their nibling on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys' front door; it crept into their living-room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr Dursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-coloured bobble hats – but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large, blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a roundabout at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. The room held no sign at all that another child lived in the house, too.

Yet Y/n L/n was still there, asleep at the moment, but not for long. Their Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice which made the first noise of the day.

'Up! Get up! Now!'

Y/n woke with a start. Their aunt rapped on the door again. 'Up!' she screeched. Y/n heard her walking towards the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the cooker. They rolled on to their back and tried to remember the dream they had been having. It had been a good one. There had been a flying motorbike in it. They had a funny feeling they'd had the same dream before.

His aunt was back outside the door.

'Are you up yet?' she demanded.

'Nearly,' said Y/n.

'Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy's birthday.'

Y/n groaned.

'What did you say?' Their aunt snapped through the door. 'Nothing, nothing ...'

Dudley's birthday – how could they have forgotten? Y/n got slowly out of bed and started looking for socks. They found a pair under his bed and, after pulling a spider off one of them, put them on. Y/n was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where they slept.

When they were dressed he went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley's birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had got the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike. Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a mystery to Y/n, as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise – unless of course it involved punching somebody. Dudley's favorite punch-bag was Y/n, but he couldn't often catch them. Y/n didn't look it, but they were  very fast.

Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Y/n had always been small and skinny for their age. They looked even smaller and skinnier than they really were because all they had to wear were old clothes of Dudley's and Dudley was about four times bigger than they were. Y/n had a thin face, knobby knees, h/c hair and e/c eyes. The only thing Y/n liked about their own appearance was a very thin scar on his forehead which was shaped like a bolt of lightning. They had had it as long as they could remember and the first question they could ever remember asking his Aunt Petunia was how they had got it.

'In the car crash when your parents died,' she had said. 'And don't ask questions.'

Don't ask questions – that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys.

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Y/n was turning over the bacon.

'Comb your hair!' he barked, by way of a morning greeting.

About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Y/n needed a haircut. Y/n must have had more haircuts than the rest of the other children in their class put together, but it made no difference.