Harry woke to the bright sunlight of dawn streaming through the shutters. He sat up and stretched, glancing around his room. Tiny though it was, barely big enough for his cot and weather beaten trunk, it was his own. No one but him went into the small room off the kitchen; the Dursleys' deemed it beneath them to enter a servant's room.

Harry stood from the bed, his back creaking. The scabs across his shoulder blades twinged with the movement, but he ignored that. He was used to waking up with the pain of half healed wounds. Harry walked over to the window and opened the shutters. He leaned his elbows on the sill, closing his eyes and breathing deep.

For a few moments, Harry allowed himself to enjoy the early morning sunlight dancing over his skin. He then patted the sill and straightened up. He sighed, turning back to face the room. Absently, he opened his trunk. He glanced back out the window, smiling faintly.

"Happy Birthday, Harry," he whispered to himself. Though he turned eighteen today, the Dursleys did not care. It was just another day to them. The last people to care had been the Weasleys, the Dursleys' other servants. The family had been employed on the estate as long as Harry could remember. He had memories of the family's matriarch presenting him with a small pastry as her children gathered round to celebrate. But that had been many years ago. The eldest son, William, had been the last Weasley still left working as a Dursley servant, and he had been let go two years ago. For a lack of funds to pay him, so the Dursleys claimed. Now, it was just Harry. Alone.

Harry sighed, turning to his worn trunk. "Time to start the day," he murmured to himself. He then started getting dressed. His clothing had, at one point, been of decent quality, as was fitting of a servant to a barony. But not any longer. They were threadbare and mended repeatedly, barely holding together. They were ill-fitting, made for a larger man; they used to belong to William, who was taller and broad than Harry. But, there was no money to get a servant new clothing. Or so the Dursleys said. He was not sure he believed that.

Harry shrugged those thoughts away. It would not do him well to dwell on his hatred of the Dursleys. It would not change anything, except possibly get him fired. He did not know what he do if the Dursleys got rid of him. The estate was all he had known his entire life.

With one last attempt to tame his unruly hair, he gave up, leaving it down around his shoulders. Then, he started on his morning tasks. 'To earn his keep', as the Baroness Dursley liked to remind him. His only worth was the work he did around the estate.

Harry left his room and headed out of the kitchen to collect eggs from the coop. After, he would make breakfast for the three Dursleys. Then, off to the orchard. Then, take the rye and extra eggs to market. He sighed. Another long day, just like every other day.