The Boy: Brandon Dursely

Chapter 1: Bran

"Good morning to you, too, Brandon," Petunia greeted back. Turning to her eldest, she tipped her head, "and to you, Dudley. Call your father please, Bran."

Brandon walked up to his parents' room and was about to knock on the door when something caught his eyes and ears.

Something was rapping up at his bedroom window. The creature had a sharp beak and wide eyes. It was black as midnight and had something on its beak. It stopped when Brandon stared unbelievingly at it.

"Is that an owl?!" He wondered out loud.

The creature stared at him longer than Bran would think it would. It wasn't bothered- not like any other owl Bran ever saw- about how a human was so near to it, when the ones at the zoo were aloof to humans.

After what seemed like a long while, Bran heard his parents' bedroom door opening, revealing his dad already dressed up for work.

"Hey, son," Vernon smiled at his youngest. Upon receiving no response, Vernon eyed the boy quizzically, and followed Bran's gaze, "What are you looking at?"

For a moment, he thought that Bran was seeing something strange at his bedroom window.

As soon as the boy turned to him, the curious look vanished. All that was left was Bran's normal green eyes.

"Uh," Bran hesitated, "I thought..."

"Yes?" Vernon prodded, one eyebrow arching up, "You thought what?"

"Uhm," Bran hesitated. He decided right then and there that it was just a trick of the light, though his mind and heart were telling him otherwise, "I thought you would like to come down now, Dad. It's- uh- breakfast. I mean, Mum wanted me to call you for breakfast."

"Oh, I see." Vernon shrugged and nodded, "Well then, let's go."

Bran followed his father down the stairs wordlessly down towards the dining room, but not before turning to take one more look at his bedroom window- only to see that there was no bird, nor any sign that a bird, specifically an owl, was ever there.

---

Later that night, Brandon could not sleep at all. He was still wondering if the bird was real. At the moment, it seemed as if it was... Magical. Could it be that Hogwarts really did come for him after all? He was turning eleven on the 31st, and he knew all about magic. His Mum, who had no magic, was quite knowledgeable about it. She always told him stories about his mother's Hogwarts days, although Petunia always changed the subject when asked about his father. All he ever knew about him was that of his looks, save his eyes and nose were from his Mum. Bran loved those stories. It made him feel closer to his real mother in some way. Not that his current Mum, who was really his Aunt, was not great, but Bran always knew that he was not like them, ever since he made the car stop and hover in midair as it was about to hit Dudley when he was three. He always liked it when he did something magical, it made him feel... whole.

Right now, he was doubting if he would ever attend Hogwarts- it's just that he was doubting if all of it was real. He was brought up with the stories, but not the actual 'Wizarding World'.

He tossed and turned and tried so hard to fall asleep, but sleep just wouldn't come. He listened for any sign of being awake of anyone in the house but all that greeted him was his Dad snoring and the crickets at the garden.

He glanced at the clock and saw it flash 12:31 A.M. He got up wearily. He was so sleepy, but it seemed that his eyes and his whole body was protesting. So he got up and sat near his windowsill and let the night air come in. He stretched his body a little and watched the twinkling stars and the mystical moon.

At times like this, he would always let his though drift to his mother, whom he had seen through a magical photo kept in the house. He knew she died protecting him against some bad wizard. Why did the wizard wanted to kill him, he would never know. At least, not until he gets to go at Hogwarts.

She was so beautiful, Brandon thought, she would've been perfect!

Then he let himself dream on about what his father would've been. He must've been clever and strong, and had a caring smile and a gentle stare. He let himself wonder what he looked like, really. Was his eyes brown or blue? Was he always reading a book? Or did he like Hogwarts, too? Did he ever love him? Is he still alive? Did he know magic, too? Or was he ever indulged in something nice at all?

So many questions, and yet so little answers.

At that, Bran felt like he was getting too sleepy. He decided to go back to his bed.

As he closed the window and headed towards Dreamland, he didn't notice the same midnight black owl putting an envelope neatly on the windowsill, with golden letters bearing the words;

To Mr. H. Potter/ Mr. B. Dursely
The Blue Bedroom
Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey

for he was finally asleep.