The darkness of night had settled over the unassuming suburban neighborhood of Privet Drive. Inside Number 4, the routine hum of an ordinary household masked the unfolding crisis in a small, cramped cupboard under the stairs. Harry Potter, a boy whose life had been marked by neglect and hardship, lay hidden and forgotten, his body fighting a battle for survival.
The Dursley family did not notice the absence of Harry much. They had grown accustomed to his silence, his ability to fade into the background.
In the living room, the television blared, casting flickering shadows across the walls. Dudley sprawled on the couch and was engrossed in a cartoon, his laughter echoing through the house.
Petunia, sitting with a magazine, suddenly realized Harry hadn't emerged from his cupboard to cook their dinner. Concerned more about the disruption to her routine than Harry's wellbeing, she went to check on him.
Petunia's steps echoed as she made her way to the cupboard. "Time to get up, boy. You've lazed around enough," she called out, expecting the usual prompt response. But silence greeted her, an unusual and unsettling response from the usually obedient Harry.
She opened the cupboard door and tugged at Harry's arm, expecting him to wake up. Instead, his body slumped forward, limp and unresponsive. A surge of panic rushed through Petunia as she felt the feverish heat emanating from his skin. "Vernon, come here! Hurry!" Her voice, usually sharp and commanding, wavered with fear.
Vernon Dursley, his face flushed from dinner, hurried over. "What's the matter now?" he asked, annoyance lacing his words. He peered into the cupboard, his expression morphing from irritation to concern at the sight of Harry's lifeless body.
Petunia gestured towards Harry's limp form and her voice trembled as she spoke. "Something's wrong with him. He's burning up and won't wake up. Should we... should we take him to the hospital?"
Vernon hesitated, his mind racing through the implications. "No, we can't. The hospital will ask too many questions. They'll see he's thin and underfed. We'll be in trouble." His voice hardened as he made his decision. "Just give him some medicine and put him back to bed. He usually gets better in a few days."
Petunia's worry and fear of repercussions were evident. "But what if it's something serious? Should we call those people from Lily's world? I don't want him to die here and cause us more trouble."
Vernon's face darkened at the mention of the wizarding world. "No, absolutely not. I don't want those freaks in our house. If he dies, it's not our fault. He's their kind, after all. That driver should've taken him to the hospital. Just forget about the boy and make some dinner. I'm starving."
Reluctantly, Petunia dragged Harry back to his cupboard, placing him on his thin mattress, her conscience uneasy. She covered him with an old blanket, her hands shaking. Guilt gnawed at her, but fear of the consequences held her back from seeking help.
As they returned to the living room, Vernon grumbled about his disrupted evening. "See! I told you. He's more trouble than he's worth. I'm sick of having him in our lives."
Petunia sat down, her magazine forgotten. "We could... we could leave him at an orphanage. Let them worry about treating him?" she suggested hesitantly.
Vernon considered it for a moment. "I'll think about it. For now, let's just get on with our lives. If he dies tonight, we'll bury him and say he died after that car hit him. No one needs to know."
The house soon returned to its usual state, with the sound of the TV and Dudley's laughter filling the air. Harry, alone in the darkness, was forgotten.
As the night deepened, Harry's condition worsened. The car accident had caused a fractured rib and internal bleeding. His life hung by a thread. Harry's magic, which had been silently working to keep him alive despite the neglect, was now struggling against the severity of his injuries.
Harry's magic had always been there, healing bruises and countering malnutrition, but the current situation was beyond its limited capabilities.
In the cupboard, Harry lay still, his body wracked with pain and fever. His injuries were severe, and without proper medical attention, his life hung in the balance.
Realizing the gravity of Harry's condition, his magic began searching for a solution. His magic, already weakened by the various charms and blocks placed on him, fought desperately to keep him alive.
Meanwhile, at Hogwarts, Dumbledore's magical monitoring devices were sounding alarms, indicating something was amiss with Harry. Unfortunately, Dumbledore was away, attending an important meeting at the International Confederation of Wizards(ICW), and the message couldn't reach him. The portraits of previous headmasters and headmistresses whispered urgently among themselves and attempted to contact Dumbledore but to no avail.
At the Potters' new home, Lily felt an unexplainable sense of dread but calmed herself after checking on Charles and seeing him sleeping peacefully.
Sirius Black, Harry's godfather, also woke up with a bad feeling. He thought of Harry but since there was no way for him to check on Harry, he reassured himself by thinking that Dumbledore would know if Harry was in danger and would ensure his safety.
Just when all seemed lost, Harry's magic came to the rescue again. Unable to break the magic block on its own, it focused on dismantling the charm that prevented other wizards from finding Harry. After a fierce struggle, the specific charm shattered, along with the last of Harry's available magic.
With the charm gone, in a few seconds, a small elf named Mira popped into Harry's cupboard.
Mira, the Potter family's and Harry's personal house-elf, had been searching for Harry ever since she lost the connection to her bond with him. She had heard from the Hogwarts elves that Dumbledore had taken Harry away that night, and she had been trying to find him ever since.
Seeing Harry's almost unrecognizable form, Mira knew she had to act fast. Harry was in critical condition, and his life at the Dursleys was clearly filled with abuse and neglect. Anger and sorrow welled up in her as she realized the extent of Harry's suffering, but she knew saving Harry was her priority.
Thinking quickly, Mira took Harry's limp hand. With a determined look fueled by her loyalty and love for the boy she had cared for and who cared for her, she popped away to an unknown location, hoping to find the help Harry desperately needed to save his life.
The quiet of the cupboard under the stairs at Number 4, Privet Drive, was left behind as Mira and Harry disappeared into the night, the first step in changing the course of Harry's fate.