The Philosopher's Stone

Different

I was lying on the floor, looking at my cousin's watch ticking closer and closer towards my 11th birthday.
I'd always known i was different.
I was never the same as the others.
To start with there was the hair incident. Almost every morning, for as long as i'd lived at Number 12 Privet Drive, my Uncle barked across the table "Boy, brush your hair" resulting in weekly trips to the hairdresser. But my hair just never lay flat. One time, my aunt got so frustrated she took a pair of kitchen scissors and made it so i was almost bald on the sides but left my fringe to "hide that nasty scar."
I was so embarrassed and dreading going to school the next day but when i woke up the next morning my hair was exactly the same as before my aunt attempted to tame it. The Dursleys were furious and locked me in my cupboard for a week.
Then there was the snake incident at the zoo but i don't think we need to go into that.
Finally, more recently, there were the letters all addressed to me and my exact location, for example "the cupboard under the stairs" where i had lived all my life. But my uncle was determined to keep the letters from me. Determined to hide some sort of secret.
So then i was lying on the floor of the dingy cabin, surrounded by a storm whipping at the rotting walls, staring at my cousins fat wrist with a digital watch flashing at me. It was my birthday in
3
2
1

..... to be continued