5

                                    

                                          

The Dursley household had been grossly underprepared -- or they hadn't been notified -- of their new obligation. An older wizard, whose name and whose relationship to his parents Harry didn't actually know, arrived that night to side-along apparate Harry to their small abode later that evening. When they arrived, the old wizard knocked on the door, and started explaining the situation to the large, baffled man who opened the door.
Vernon Dursley, the man who opened the door, was as daft as he was large. It quickly became apparent that he was confused, infuriated, and then openly hostile. He grabbed a nearby lamp and brandished it like a weapon, pointing the bulb threateningly in the face of the exasperated wizard.
Harry's mother was rather firm with raising her children with the knowledge of muggle gadgets and things.His father had been amused and had laughed at the many lessons that she taught their children, although he did end up learning a lot too. Those lessons were the only reason Harry was aware that the lamp was, in fact, a lamp and not a weapon as the older wizard seemed to believe.
Vernon Dursley was quickly making a scene, his large face going red and his cheeks vibrating with the viciousness of his shouting.
A new woman appeared , dressed in a mint green robe, looking just as frazzled as Mister Dursley. When she caught sight of Harry, she grew pale and then rather dramatically swooned. Her body hit the ground loudly, her hair curlers rattling as her head hit the floor.
Harry's escort made some sort of objection and tried to make his way into the house. The large, loud man roared something angrily and tried to force him back out.
A child, roughly Harry's age but many times bigger, screamed something in shock and nearly the entire neighbourhood woke up in hushed confusion.
Harry exhaled slowly, straightened his back, firmly grasped his trunk, and bit back the growing sense of regret in agreeing to come to the Dursleys'. He was both surprised and frustrated with how quickly things had unfolded, but what was the worst thing that could happen?
It couldn't be any worse than what he'd already been through, could it?
The Dursley's, were a family of the worst people that Harry had ever met. They were as snobbish, rude, and arrogant as the worst of Skylar's friends.
Vernon Dursley, the head of the household, prided himself on being a successful, respectable provider for his family. In truth, he was greedy, selfish, and judgmental.
His wife, Harry's aunt Petunia, was a horse-faced liar who was always looking for rumours and gossip, obsessed with social status and maintaining the appearance that they were a perfectly normal family.
Their son, Dudley, was a greedy glutton and they spoiled him terribly. He'd learned exactly how to get what he wanted, throwing screaming fits if his parents didn't immediately capitulate. Harry knew that, although Skylar had been spoiled a bit, he was nowhere near as rotten as their obese cousin.
Behind closed doors, the Dursleys made absolutely no effort to hide their blatant hatred for Harry and "his kind." A growing part of Harry's own heart felt the same way about them.
Harry's trunk and a small cot had been thrown into a hastily cleared cupboard under the stairs. The ventilation flap was clogged with dust and, when he complained, Aunt Petunia gave him a nearly-clean rag and a bottle of noxious chemicals and told him to clean it himself.
The rest of the cupboard wasn't much better. It certainly wasn't fit for human habitation. Mould and mildew rotted the floor panels from wet shoes and thick cobwebs cushioned any sharp edges. The single lightbulb hanging overhead had long since burned out and no-one had ever bothered to change it.