Harry James Potter? No I'm Viola Irene Darkholme

The Road so Far

(Harry's POV)

The Dursleys were a completely normal family or at least that's what they wanted everyone to think. There's Dudley, my cousin, in their eyes he's the perfect upstanding young man who can do no wrong. In reality he's an overinflated idiotic blonde pig who gets his jollies off on bullying kids, when he can't find me so that he can enjoy his very past time of Harry hunting he takes off with his little gang to find someone new to "have fun with". There's Aunt Petunia, the perfectly normal housewife with a spectacular garden who holds tea parties and lovely little gatherings with her friends and her husband's work associates. Except that's not her garden or her cooking, it's mine, in reality she's a horse faced long necked bint who likes to spy on her neighbors and gossip about the little ways that they are less than perfect and look at everyone as if they're below her. Finally, there is the head of the family, my Uncle Vernon, the director of a drill company called Grunnings, a hard working man and a loving father. More like a walrus of a man who is the embodiment of everything wrong with men, he's a fat, disgusting, sexist, abusive prick who feels the need to blame everyone else for his problems. Don't say any of this to the Dursleys though, in their eyes they are the embodiment of a normal formal and they hate anything that can ruin that image, anything freakish.

Freakish, that's me by the way. The black sheep residing in the perfect Dursley household apparently I was dumped on their doorstep after my useless parents got themselves killed in a drunk driving accident or at least that's what the Dursleys tell me. Personally I think they're lying, it's not clear but I have this dream that feels more like a memory where a woman I think is my mom is begging someone not to kill me then there's a bright flash of sickly green light and a lot of pain. That doesn't sound like a car crash to me, I asked the Dursley's about it once only to get smacked upside the head and thrown into my cupboard with Vernon yelling at me that dreams aren't real. I was locked in there for a whole month. I was only let out to go to the bathroom so that I didn't make a mess, can't have their normal house smelling gross now can we. Growing up anything and everything that could go wrong was my fault, Vernon didn't get the promotion its the freaks fault, Dudley didn't do well in school its the freaks fault, Petunia didn't get invited to the book club the new neighbor started its the freaks fault. Anything they didn't like it was my fault and they loved to punish me for it sometimes it was a quick slap upside the head, other times I was locked in the cupboard for an extended period of time, but more often than not I got one of Vernon's special "lessons" they were his favorite punishment after all.

I was never a person to the Dursleys, no I was the freak, the scapegoat, the problem and the reason everything went wrong. I still remember the day I learned my name, I was sitting on the carpet excited to be in primary school hopeful to make friends. Noone knew anything about me here, surely they wouldn't hate me like the dursleys do. I had sat quietly wondering which of my names the teacher was going to call freak or boy when suddenly the teacher was looking at me, "Harry when I call your name you need to say here okay?" she told me.

I looked at her confused before asking, "Who's Harry?" After school that day the teacher talked to Vernon and Petunia about why I didn't know my name and suddenly I was hearing a sob story about how I was slow and always had trouble learning and a tendency to forget things. Time progressed and instead of things getting better like I hoped they got worse, the lessons increased in frequency especially when I did better in school then Dudley because "How dare you make my son look bad". I quickly learned to do just bad enough on my assignments to come in below Dudley in grades without failing and over time I gained the reputation of being the idiotic trouble making delinquent. The only place I found any peace was in the library where I made my first friend, Ms. Munroe was a kind woman with beautiful white hair who didn't believe all the rumors about me. She would recommend new books for me to read and sometimes she would just sit with me and we would drink tea and talk. It was nice, but eventually she had to leave and she told me that she was needed back in America. I was sad to see her go, but I couldn't ask her to stay. No one cares about the freak, not really.