Harry Potter: The Dark Path

A soft creaking noise permeated through the quiet hallway of number four, Privet Drive. The house was the epitome of a normal suburban home: perfect lawn, nicely styled house, and anything else that might come to one's mind.

Unfortunately, there was one thing, or person, within the house that often did not come to the minds of most normal people. A four year old Harry Potter was currently locked inside the old cupboard under the stairs feeling rather hungry.

Around fourteen hours ago, Harry's Aunt Petunia had announced that the family (which meant everyone except Harry) would be taking a lovely trip to the beach. She had set out a hastily prepared sandwich, as well as a list of chores for him to complete in order to earn his dinner.

Harry had been told that he would have until six in the evening (when the Dursleys planned to return home) to finish his chores, which Harry felt was fairly achievable. He had been in a rather good mood because of it; it was not often that Harry had a sure fire way of earning his dinner, and Harry was not one to look a gift horse in the face.

Looking back, Harry probably would have been better off had he checked the gift horse a bit more carefully. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley had arrived home several hours before six, his uncle stating that they had been concerned that he might burn down the house, or some other sort of freakish activity.

Upon seeing that little Harry had not finished his chores, Uncle Vernon immediately decided a suitable punishment would be to send Harry off to his cupboard for the rest of the day. Aunt Petunia, however, must have thought differently; she allowed him to stay out of the cupboard long enough to finish the remaining chores.

It was now approaching one in the morning, and Harry's stomach was growling with hunger. The only source of light in the cupboard was through the holes made in the door. There was only a single lightbulb in his cupboard, which hung from the ceiling on some sort of chain.

Sadly, the switch for the bulb was on the outside of the cupboard. Dudley often took advantage of this, occasionally waking Harry up in the middle of the night whenever Dudley needed to use the toilet.

The young Potter curiously peaked through the holes in his cupboard. He was rather short for his age, and certainly on the skinny side. Harry also had lovely eyes, which were emerald in colour. They were obscured by glasses that were held together by pieces of tape, and occasionally his jet black hair.

Harry's favourite thing about his appearance, however, was his scar. According to his Aunt Petunia, he had gotten it during the car crash that had killed his drunken bum of a father and his good for nothing mother. Although that had initially saddened him, Harry had learnt to take anything his aunt and uncle told him with a grain of salt.

Upon seeing and hearing nobody around, Harry tried to force the door open. It was likely in vain; Harry was not even remotely strong, and was likely the one of the weaker children of his age. It would have been the exact opposite if Harry had been properly fed by his aunt and uncle. They often made Harry do manual labor which, combined with three respectable meals a day, would do wonders to a child's body.

Regardless, Harry was incapable of opening the door. Uncle Vernon had recently installed a lock on the door in order to keep Harry locked inside when needed. Harry could just barely see the lock through the holes in his door. It was a small silver padlock that connected the door of the cupboard to the wall.

Well that's not very good.

Harry was rather frustrated with the lock at the moment. It was the only thing that stood in the way of him and a nice meal. He was very capable of sneaking around, he was sure he would not be heard by any of the other occupants in the house. Harry was also more than capable of making a good meal; Aunt Petunia had recently begun teaching him how to cook, as she planned to have him start cooking for the family by his fifth birthday.

Open . . . come on, please, I'm really hungry . . . just open.

The lock remained as stationary as ever.

It wasn't as though Harry had expected that to work, but it was still worth a shot. A few weeks ago Dudley had been watching a program on the television where the trick worked. Harry had been locked in his cupboard at the time, but he had still been able to see through the cracks.

Aunt Petunia had not at all been pleased when she saw what Dudley was watching. Harry hadn't finished developing his memory yet, but he was sure it was some sort of magic show. She had angrily switched the television channel, repeatedly informing Dudley that there was no such thing as magic.