Ever since he’d been a baby and his parents had died in that car crash. He couldn’t remember being in the car when his parents had died. Sometimes, when he strained his memories during long hours in his cupboard, he came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and a burning pain on his forehead. This, he supposed, was the crash, though he couldn’t imagine where all the green light was coming from. His aunt and uncle never spoke about them, and of course he wasn’t allowed to ask questions. There were no photographs of them in the house either. When he had been younger Harry had dreamed about someone unknown coming to take him away, but he knew now, of course, that they were childish dreams. The Dursley's were his only family. Yet sometimes he thought (or maybe hoped) that strangers in the street seemed to know him. Very strange strangers they were, too. A tiny man in a violet top hat had bowed to him once while out shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. After asking Harry furiously if he knew the man, Aunt Petunia had rushed them out of the shop without buying anything. A wild-looking old woman dressed all in green with a vulture hat had waved merrily at him once. A bald man in a very long purple coat had actually shaken his hand in the street the other day and then walked away without a word. Harry wished he knew who they were… The weirdest thing about these people was that they seemed to vanish the second Harry tried to get a closer look.
At school, Harry had no one. Everybody knew that Dudley’s gang hated that odd Harry Potter in his baggy old clothes and broken glasses, and nobody liked to disagree with Dudley’s gang.
The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earned Harry his longest-ever punishment. By the time he was allowed out of his cupboard again, the summer holidays had started and Dudley had already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote control airplane, and, first time out on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches. Harry was glad school was over, but there was no escaping Dudley’s gang, who visited the house every. Single. Day. Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Cordon were all big and stupid but as Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of the lot he was the leader. The rest of them were all quiet happy to join in Dudley’s favorite sport:
Harry Hunting.
This is why Harry spent as much time as possible out of the house, wandering around and thinking about the end of the holidays, where he could see a tiny, tiny ray of hope. When September came he would be going off to secondary school and for the first time in his life he wouldn’t be with Dudley. Dudley had been accepted at Uncle Vernon’s old private school, Smeltings. (Witch Harry thought was stupid, because Dudley had gotten the lowest grades of the year). Piers was going there too. Harry, on the other hand, was going to Stonewall High, the local public school. Dudley thought it was very funny. “They stuff people’s heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall,” he told Harry. “Want to come upstairs and practice?”
“No thanks,” said Harry in mock concern. “The poor toilet’s never had anything as horrible as your head down it. It might get sick.” Then he ran before Dudley could get his dumb brain to work out what he said. One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to by his Smeltings uniform, leaving Harry at Mrs. Figg’s. Mrs. Figg wasn’t as bad as usual. It turned out she’d broken her leg tripping over one of her cats and she didn’t seem quite as fond of them as before. She let Harry watch television and gave him a bit of cake that tasted as though she’d had it for several years. That evening Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand-new uniform. Smeltings boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers and a flat straw hat called boaters. They also carried knobbly sticks used for hitting each other while the teachers weren’t looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life.

As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said she couldn’t believe it was her Lckle Dudleykings, he looked so handsome and grown up. Harry didn’t trust himself to speak. He thought two of his ribs might already have cracked from trying not to laugh.
There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when Harry went in for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. He went to have a look at it. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in gray water. “What’s this?” he asked Aunt Petunia. Her lips tightened as they always did if he dared to ask a question. “Your new school uniform.” she said. Harry looked into the bowl again, an eyebrow raised. “Oh,” he said. “I didn’t realize it had to be so wet.”
“Don’t be stupid.” Aunt Petunia snapped. “I’m dyeing some of Dudley’s old things gray for you. It’ll look just like everyone else’s when I’ve finished. Harry seriously doubted this and muttered, “sure.” before walking to the table. He sat down and tried not to think how he was going to look on his first day at Stonewall High - like he was wearing bits of old elephant skin, probably.
Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from Harry’s new uniform. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table. They heard the click of mail in the slot and flop of letters on the doormat. “Go get the mail Dudley.” said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.
“Make Harry get it.”
“Get the mail Harry.”
“Make Dudley get it.”
“Poke him with your Smelting stick Dudley.”
Harry dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail.