The inhabitants of Number Four Privet Drive were just live everyone else-and they like it that way. They were a small family of three, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley and their son Dudley. There house was well kept and their lawn immaculate. They lived there days out just like their neighbors. What no one knew was that while they were a family of three, four lived in the house. The fourth was Harry Potter.

Clang. Clang. There was a thunderous knock at the door to the smallest room at Number Four Privet Drive. The young boy who lies sleeping on the bed awakens. Clang. Clang. The earsplitting knock runs through the room again. The boy grabs his glasses from the side table and stands up. He walks groggily to the long mirror that hung up in his room. He opens his eyes and stares into it. He is rather tall-around 5'8-and his limbs seem almost too large for his body. His hair lays atop his head untidy. He runs his hands over it for a moment and it stays down only for a second. His face is almost immaculately round. His brilliant green eyes sit above his wide nose. The young boy's face might have been completely symmetrical had it not been for the scar. It was a small lightning shaped scar that sat over his left eyebrow. Clang. He sighs as he heads toward the door. The young boy is Harry Potter.

"What took you so long to open the door?" Aunt Petunia rushed into the room busily. She was a rather thin women-Harry couldn't help thinking that she had looked even more thin when he returned for the summer-with a neck twice the size of a normal persons. As she began to move around the room Harry noticed she looked rather pale and insipid. He opened his mouth several times to question her but found he didn't have the words. Neither, Petunia nor Vernon Dursley had bothered to come into the place Harry slept since he returned. She began to bang down pillows and rip of the sheets when Harry finally found the words.

"What exactly are you doing?" For a moment after he asked the question his Aunt did not bother to look up. When she finally did looked up her eyes rested upon Harry as if he were something to be feared. Harry asked his question again. Petunia looked as if the words her nephew had just said had been in her imagination. Her face seemed glared over as if she was staring into the sun.

"Your Uncle Monty is coming over and is going to sleep here. You will be staying either in the cupboard (Harry wanted to point out that this was his room) or you may sleep in the den on the sofa." She said it in a rather matter-of-fact way which disturbed Harry. She was by this time standing at the door. She turned and stared at Harry. Her eyes were full of something Harry had never seen in her eyes before. He thinks for a moment that it may be love. He is flushed with the same feeling he has had ever since he returned home. He is somehow glad that his Aunt was his mother's sister. She turns and leaves and for a moment it is quite. "Breakfast in a few minutes," She calls from the hallway.

Harry closed the door behind his Aunt and slammed himself back onto the bed. His green eyes were full of tears. He cried for the first time that summer. It was as if the sound of his Aunt's voice and the look in her eyes had brought all the emotion back. Sirius's death, the longing for Hogwarts, the yearning for his friends and the prophecy that haunted his dreams. He wiped his tears and then he realized that it was his birthday. It had been for five hours. What he thought of next was that it was Sunday. On Sundays the Dursleys ate breakfast late. Why would Aunt Petunia call him so early? Could she know what today is? He put that that though out of his mind as he remembered that for fifteen years she had not cared about his birthday and this would be no different. He got dressed and left the room quietly as to not wake his uncle and cousin.

When Harry reached the bottom of the step he was surprised by what he smelt. It was the sweet smell of orange juice and cooked sausage. It was the saccharine smell of juicy pancakes. "What is she doing? Is this all for me?" He walked into the kitchen and sitting on the table was a plat of food. It was full of all the things Harry had never been allowed to have at Number Four Privet Drive. Aunt Petunia was sitting at the across from the seat of food. Harry just stood there for a moment. He didn't want to assume that this plate of food was his.

"Happy Birthday!" Her voice was frail. For a moment Harry wondered what he should say. He wasn't even sure if she had said the words he had heard. Once again his eyes moved over to the plate of food. There was a snort of laughter from his Aunt. "I knew it! This is all just some game." Harry thought to himself.

"The food is for you Harry," He sat down at the table and grabbed the fork on the left of the plate. "Eat quickly before Vernon wakes up." There was a small tremor in her voice. Harry looked up from the plate and saw that she was crying. He swallowed the last bite of food.

"I have a gift for you Harry. It is nothing to big…I mean to say that I did not buy them. I think you will like them. Finish your breakfast first and then I will give them to you." Harry was even more shocked by this. A plate of food was one thing but an actual gift. He took another large bite. He could hardly wait to see his gift. "Has anyone ever told you that you have your mother's eyes; you look like James though." This shocked Harry. Not only was she being nice to him but she was talking about his parents-which she usually never talked about. Seven minutes later Harry had finished his breakfast and was ready to receive his gift.

"Harry…I am sorry I kept this from you" Her voice tailored off for a moment. Her eyes were filled with tears. "I think that you should have them now. After all that has happened…you should have them. I don't care what he thinks. Here take this…it is the letter that you were left with on our doorstep and something that your mother gave to me a long time ago." She handed him to small weather-torn letters.