Freak

Freak discovered that his proper name was Harry Potter when he was four years old and had started attending primary school, and decided he quite liked it. Thank you very much.
He rather enjoyed his time away from Aunt ‘tunias house. He was not called Freak, or Boy, or You. He was called Mister Potter, and sometimes, this one was his favorite, Harry. He did not have friends, Dudley made sure of that, but he got to learn. And oh, he loved to learn. He could recite the whole alphabet in the first week of class and count all the way to fifteen!
Aunt ‘Tunia said freaks did not deserve to learn but she had to let him go anyway. She grumbled as she took him to sign up that “nosy old Mrs. Figg” saw him weeding one day and the neighbors would start asking questions if he didn’t go, now that they knew he lived there. That day she had called him an ungrateful “parasite”, he wondered what a parasite was.
Today was not like most days, though. Today was going to be a Very Bad Day for Harry. Miss Roberts had been giving him odd looks all morning, and he knew more attention meant more trouble. At snack time she pulled him aside while the other kids were eating and asked why, yet again, he did not have a snack. He learned that day that when adults ask questions about home, you should never tell the truth. Teachers do not like to hear that freaks don’t deserve to eat. If you tell adults they call child services, Aunt ‘Tunia and Uncle Vernon do not like it when people come to ask questions and make a spectacle (what will the neighbors think!?).
Harry is just a troubled boy, he has a head injury and they have tried to get him to sleep in his bedroom. The poor boy keeps trying to sleep in the cupboard anyway. The lock is to keep him out. Normal people do not keep locks on their cupboard doors but when very troubled boys try to get into the cleaners and chemicals they have to do something.
That’s what they tell child services anyway.
Harry gets hit for the first time that day. He had been shaken, shoved, and locked in the cupboard overnight before, but this was much worse. That night the Dursleys pulled him out of school for the week while they switched him into the same class as Dudley with the horrid Mrs. Williams. They used that week to teach him how he ought to respond and punish him for telling “meddling Miss Roberts” their business. Uncle Vernon had kicked him violently in the ribs and let his meaty fists rain down on Harry where clothes would cover bruises so no one would ask questions. Vernon had then grabbed his upper arm, dragged him down the hall, and thrown him into the cupboard with all the force he could muster. Harry’s head dinged against the door as he was tossed in and left a gash right at his hairline. Not that it was much different from already having the freakish lighting-shaped scar crawling across his forehead, Harry thought. That night was the easiest of that week, he may have been in loads of pain but that would be fixed overnight and he wasn’t hungry yet.