Harry Potter and the Curse of Death

Chapter Two: The cupboard under the stairs is actually a road

Harry stared at the ceiling above him. It was painted blue and white, imitating, fluffy white clouds in a brilliant blue sky. It was beautiful, but it also wasn't his usual cupboard ceiling. Harry sat up quickly, in surprise. He looked around and gasped. This was not his room.

In fact, the room he was in was not a room and the ceiling was not a ceiling at all. Harry looked up again and saw that the fluffy white clouds in the brilliant blue sky, were in fact not painted. And VERY real.

Harry felt his senses coming back to him and heard a quiet rumbling growing louder. It was coming from a car that was driving on Park Lane Street. Unfortunately for harry, he was right in the middle of this road. Harry turned around and saw a car speeding towards him. His eyes flew open, as he froze in shock. The driver in the car, looked extremely drunk, and didn't seem to see Harry. Seconds past as the car came closer and closer, and Harry heartbeat faster and faster. What was he to do? The car was metres away from him.

Harry closed his eyes, preparing for the blow, when suddenly, a thought stuck him. He was a wizard. Wizards do magic stuff. Magic stuff, such as apparating, to make you teleport places.

Harry's eyes flew open, and he turned around on the spot, thinking of a safe place to go. With a sudden whip. Harry was gone.

---

The drunk driver continued with his day, as he drove to the nearest alcohol store. He bought some drinks, smoked his cigarettes, and yelled at some children playing on a swing. It was a good day for him. However, later that day a short squabbily man, came up to him wearing a long cloak.

'Good day, Mr Dragsley' said the man politely whilst pushing up his glasses.

Mr Dragsley, too drunk to talk, just gave out a grunt, to show the man he had acknowledged his presence.

'Just wondering, have you seen a young boy, with jet black hair, emerald-green eyes, and round glasses by any chance.'

Mr Dragsley, however, did not respond and instead started to attempt to sit on the children's swing but kept on falling off. He repeated this until he started to grow tired, and eventually gave up.

The man furrowed his eyebrows.

'Muggles are the strangest' muttered the man, 'Let's see... He goes, by the name, Harry Potter?'

'Who?' said Mr Dragsley, finally speaking.

The man looked at Mr Dragsley strangely as if he had a disease.

'How could he not remember? We can't get the boy in trouble if the witness didn't see anything! Oh... Fudge isn't going to happy!'

The short man turned to Mr Dragsley and brought out a stick from out of his cloak. He swished it and said Obliviate! and with a sudden crack he was gone.

When Mr Dragsley returned home, as far as he was concerned Harry Potter had never existed in his life. He had never met him, and never would.

---

CRACK! Harry stumbled and fell onto the ground as he landed. His body was definitely not used to apparating. He rubbed his eyes, and then looked up to see where he had landed. Instead, 3 sets of eyes stared back at him. One of them was a familiar looking white-blond haired boy. He looked up to an older woman and tugged on her dress.

'Mum... Who is he?'

Harry looked at what seemed to be the boy's mother, and his eyes widened.

'Narcissa?!' cried Harry in shock.