Rain,

Rain fell at a steady flow that was consistent with his emotions, which was currently held by the death of his godfather. He hardly knew the man but what was important was the fact that with the man around he held hope of release. In the short time they had the man showed that he cared for him, which unfortunately in the end it cost his life, or so they say.

On the road the cacophony of vehicle noises battled in an endless crescendo to reach the loudest peak. Currently that peak was viciously defended by non other than Vernon Dursley. Honking the car horn and revving the engine he made sure that no one could compete.

Who could blame him, he had reason after all. Turning the blustering man out was easier said than done, however he managed.

Their arrival at home was heralded by the crunching of rubber on gravel. As he wearily opened his eyes number four came into view. It still held the same outline as the neighbour, their neighbour and their neighbour and so forth.

With a twinge he knew something was off and it was not the view or the weather. It felt more arcane. A certain amount of irrational fear or simple dread settled in the pit of his stomach. He could not comprehend which was fitting.

Worst of all, he could not understand why.

Opening the door he got out and made for the boot of the car. Picking out his trunk, or rather attempting to, he found some help in the form of his uncle.

Surprised, without showing of course, he let the man help him. In the other hand he held the cage of his second friend, Hedgewig. It was decided that she would remain at the Weasleys for she was very well known. In her place was another Tawny brown, which he supposed was a school owl.

Slowly his uncle led the way into the house. Passing Dudley, who was holding the door of things, he should have realised that something was amiss. He did not.

The door slammed behind him and with the shock he jerked. The trunk fell from his hand and thus his uncle's as well. The man turned around sporting a face in a new shade of magenta, as it long ago surpassed red. Bridling the man turned and walked towards the kitchen. Passing the swing doors he gave the command, "Come."

He did not argue. Walking into the kitchen he saw his aunt seated at her usual spot, which was incidentally the head of the table, they whale and its offspring would simply not fit anyway. When she saw him looking she curled her lip in disgust. She was not acknowledged as he was waiting for this.

Seating himself at his usual spot he waited for them to start. A shuffling sound drew his attention. It was the baby whale. The chair creaked as it was tested to its limits but somehow held firm.

"We gave you food. We gave you clothing. We gave you a roof over your miserable head and this is how we are thanked. No more." The man stated this quietly. That was disturbing. What was more disturbing was that the man was reigning in his temper, Very unusual indeed.

The woman nodded empathetically. She obviously agreed. The baby whale just looked on dumbly, another thing that was expected.

"I will give you a choice. You can keep your books, or you can keep your wand. You will remain in your cupboard and I will have no word, sound or squeak from you" The man stated without preamble.

The choice was rather simple but it was convoluted with other problems. Without going into detail he decided on his books.

"I will keep my books." He said still not showing emotion not even acknowledging the cupboard situation. The greater whale held his hand.

Gripping his wand in his pocket he handed it over. The man took it and examined it.

Holding it in both hands he snapped it. Shock showed on the boys face as he heard the crack. A red feather showed for a moment before it burned out. If Ron Weasley was here he would say "Unreal it was I tell you, Unreal…" he was not there.

The boy felt a gaping fissure form somewhere in his chest. Slamming his hand over the fissure he tried to stop it from growing.

A smoky halo formed a bird which resembled a phoenix. Looking into where the eyes would be he felt as if someone was going through his mind at an alarming rate. This he chose to forget was ripped to the front and viewed critically. He felt judged.

A short time later the feeling left. It was not finished though. The bird gained height and for a moment he thought it would disappear.

It did not. With a dive it dove right into him where his hand was. There was no pain or anything. The bird simply vanished into him. The gaping hole was steadily filled until there was no more space. He was thankful for that which was confirmed with a sigh..

At some point he closed his eyes, he did not know when. As he opened them he saw a ham like hand that knocked him from his chair. Flying of his chair as it fell over he knocked the back of his head as well.

"FREAKS!" the man shouted. The man was over the edge. He heard snickering but could not identify from where.

Moving his hand over his face he felt it covered with a warm substance. He knew what that was and the coppery taste and smell confirmed it.

"My floor!" Was screeched by someone else, he couldn't care any less.

Rolling to his knees he felt a hand on the back of his head. Being pulled by his hair was not a nice feeling either but he did not resist.

He was seated on his chair once again. Who righted the chair he did not know.

He heard something crashing to the floor. A moment later the baby whale reappeared with two books, a bunch of parchment and his never out quill.

They were haphazardly stacked before him. The book on top was his photo album. The woman reached across and took it, paging through she did not conceal the look of disgust. He saw the other book was Hogwarts a History, how ironic.

The man moved it away and quickly replaced it with the parchment and his quill.

"Three months, every three days gives us thirty letters. Start writing boy." Still in shock he started writing. Sometimes the man would say to add something or the other. The horse woman would sometimes add something as well.

Without conscious thought he wrote these details down, once done the woman chucked the album back at him. Feeling his hair pulled he grabbed his books and followed.

The cupboard door loomed ahead of him. Fortunately it was opened before he was manly gestured inside. The door banged closed and the latch sounded, which confirmed his isolation. The rickety cot was still waiting, upon which he fell almost boneless.

Wiping the sticky substance from his face he saw a simple switch dangling from the ceiling. Pressing down on it a soft yellow light was turned on. Looking at his cupboard he saw that there were some changes made, luckily, in his absence. First was that it was bigger, slightly but there. The next was the small basin and the last was a hole in the floor in the corner.

On closer inspection he saw a flush button which confirmed what it was. Lastly, the cat flap was back.

Looking upon the situation he was not surprised, he was Harry Potter after all.