Howling At The Moon

Chapter 1

Harry wasn't just your average little boy, no matter how much he liked to try and tell himself that. His family would remind him of it every day.

Whether it was his uncle shouting at him for not answering the door quick enough and almost missing the post despite the fact he could get up and answer the door himself, his aunt yelling at him for burning the food despite the fact that he could just barely reach the cooker on his tip toes, or his stupid cousin pushing him down the stairs just so he could have a laugh.

God, he hated them all. But he was stuck with them and had nowhere to go. He didn't have any other relatives that he knew of, his parents were dead. They'd died in a car crash they'd caused when he was a baby because they were drunk and it left a stupid scar on his head. He doesn't remember it but that's what his aunt told him so it must be true.

He doesn't think it's fair that he gets locked away in his cupboard or doesn't get allowed food just because he does something they deem 'freakish'. What does that mean?

He turned a teacher's hair blue at school once but that was just because he was upset, doesn't that happen to everyone? Isn't that normal? He just wanted to cheer himself up and thought to himself how hilarious it would be if his annoying teacher had bright blue hair and suddenly... she did.

Dudley was in his class and somehow knew he'd done it. When he told his parents, they flipped out and locked Harry away in the cupboard he calls his bedroom for days. The whole time all he thought was, 'what did I do wrong?'

There was never any point in asking though because he never got any proper answers. It was always the same. 'You're just abnormal. You don't belong here. You're just like them.' He doesn't know who they are but there's no point in ever thinking about it when it's pointless.

Today he just wanted to have a relaxing day, he was always so tired, even if it meant just staying in his cupboard just for once, but as always that proved to never be the case. His aunt came barging downstairs and slammed several times on his door waking him up from an uncomfortable sleep.

"Get up now, boy! You've got breakfast to make. Five minutes, chop chop!" She bellowed and unlocked the latch before walking off all snooty like, as if she was she was the bloody Queen herself and he was the servant.

It felt like that most of the time anyways.

He groaned and stretched before beginning to stand and head out the door when suddenly he was thrown back inside by a large Dudley slamming into him and throwing him back onto his lump of a mattress.

"Watch where you're going, cousin!" Dudley yelled and took off towards the kitchen, most likely to tell on him and say he pushed him to get him into trouble.

Harry scoffed and got back up, grumpily heading into the kitchen to begin working on breakfast. His hand-me-down pyjamas hung loosely over his small frame and he always had to roll the sleeves of his jumper up several times to stop it from catching fire on the stove.

"Good morning, aunt Petunia." He said softly as he did every morning. Despite the fact that she clearly hated him, she still demanded that he showed respect and that meant silly manners, even if he got none back.

"Enough chit chat, start working on that bacon." She pointed to the fridge and Harry nodded once, running to the fridge to get the bacon and eggs she knew uncle Vernon would want, too.

"Yes, aunt Petunia." He popped the food into frying pans and some toast into the toaster and began cooking for several minutes, Dudley watching cartoons in the living room with his mother cooing at him like he was the sweetest thing on the planet. As if.