Chapter 1

The house was quiet. Very quiet, in fact.

So quiet that you may have thought that the inhabitants of the home had already left, but that wasn't the case.

In the quaint little house of Number Four Privet Drive, the members of the Dursley family were as quiet as a mouse.

With every sound that didn't come from themselves, they trembled like mice in the presence of a cat, flinching from the uncertainty.

So, when the hoot of an owl sounded, the three Dursleys flinched like they'd been struck.

Rather than looking at the place where the sound came from, they looked towards the stairs that led to the second floor instead, as if afraid of what – or who might come down.

They cautiously relaxed when nothing happened, and the three family members continued their breakfast in total silence.

Even when the man, Vernon Dursley, flipped the newspaper, he took care not to crinkle the papers in terror that he might make too loud a noise.

Petunia Dursley skilfully flipped the bacon on the frying pan, no sound heard from years of practice. The heat was set on low. Though the bacon wouldn't be crispy that way, it was better than… than… well.

Dudley Dursley very cautiously opened the front door, but not before he oiled the hinges, going out to collect the mail.

The boy's brows furrowed when he found a strange-looking envelope on the top of the pile.

But then, when he read the name addressed on it, his eyes almost popped out in fear. He had to stop himself from throwing the mail up in the air.

His heart was pounding loudly in his chest, almost drowning out the sound of everything else.

Written on the envelope was:

"Mr. H Potter, Master Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey."

The envelope was a funny thing. Dudley had never seen anything like it, but the scarily accurate detail on it terrified him more than anything.

Did this mean that someone knew about the situation in their home?

Why else would they be addressing… him like that?

Before he could dally further, Dudley hurriedly scurried back into the house, very carefully shutting the front door with no sound.

Seeing their son's return, the Dursley parents made a questioning gesture towards Dudley, wondering why he'd taken so long.

Dudley shakily handed over the strange envelope that looked like parchment of all things over to his mother.

The moment Petunia got her hands on it, her face drained of all colour, and she audibly gasped, causing both males to stare at her with wide eyes.

Petunia slapped her hand over her mouth when she realized what she'd done, but the damage was already done. She'd made a noise.

The members of the Dursley family waited with pounding hearts, their eyes fearfully looking at the stairs, and they only slowly calmed down when a figure didn't appear on the staircase.

It was only when five minutes passed that they dared to breathe normally again.

It was only then that Petunia felt a blossom of hope bloom in her chest. Maybe, just maybe, if she let the other frea- no, no, if she let the other wizards know about what was happening in her home, they may be able to get rid of that terror that caused such stark fear in her house.

Just as she was about to open it, she heard a voice that froze her in her tracks. "What are you doing, Aunt Petunia?"

The voice was deceptively sweet. There were the right intonations, and it would have sounded innocent on any other child, but it struck terror in all three of the Dursleys.

It would have been sweet. But not on this devil.

Petunia shakily handed the letter to the boy.

They never ever heard him move around, and if they didn't know better, if they hadn't watched him grow up under their nose, they may have even thought that he wasn't human.

Petunia watched as the boy curiously opened the letter, and she felt as if every inch of her hope had instantly slid away.

Harry took the letter from his relative's hands, casually opening the seal. The smile that spread on his face made all three of the Dursleys shudder yet again.

None of them dared to question him.

Perhaps… if he went, he would leave them alone. The thought of it alone was enough to make Petunia hopeful again. She knew that it was boarding school. She only hoped that the boy would not refuse to go.

Harry's eyes glittered with a rare interest. It wasn't just any day that something caught his eye.

So, there was actually a specialized school for studying magic. How interesting.

Of course, he would opt to go there instead of choosing to stay in this utterly boring world, but how could he let his dear relatives off so easily?

"Perhaps it would be better for me not to go instead," Harry mused, and he was amused when he saw that Petunia almost seemed to wilt, just like her namesake.

Dudley and Vernon, on the other hand, had no idea what was going on. The only thing they knew was that it wasn't anything good from Petunia's reactions.

Petunia wanted to scream and cry, and she wanted to convince the boy to go, if only to spare them, but she knew better than to do that.

It was a trap that the terror used against them, and more than once. It wasn't until they realized that he liked to speak using rhetorical questions, and that they shouldn't answer, that he finally left them alone.

Harry's lips curled into a smirk that should have looked rather out of place on his face, but it was anything but. He'd wondered if the emotional shock to his dear aunt would have caused her to break the rules, but alas it looked like she'd grown too smart for that.

No matter.

Her emotional reaction was rather telling. Just what had his dear aunt been hiding from him over the years, hmm?

'He's the devil.' That was the only thing that Petunia could think of. He was human, but… he really wasn't at all, at the same time.

"Drive me there, dearest aunt," Harry said so genially that anyone else would have been tricked.

Petunia quickly made her way out of the door, almost as if the devil himself was chasing her, and the two males made themselves scarce, not even giving the poor woman a second glance.

Harry let himself into the back seat, tempering down the smirk that had been on his face.

He caught his aunt's eye in the mirror, and she shuddered at the sheer unfeelingness in his eyes.

She stepped on the gas paddle harder.