Certainly not one that tall.
His eyes adjusted to the light and he could make out what looked like a man in a black suit. From his vantage point, he could make out that the figure was very tall and had a black business suit like the ones he'd seen Uncle Vernon wear on his way to work, though this figure had a very, very thin suit as opposed to Vernon's. The grate and angle prevented him from seeing the face, though.
The figure didn't move the entire time, but Harry got the feeling it was searching for something. He shivered as his pain-numbed mind realized; someone else was in the house!
Harry paid attention in the safety course at his primary school, he knew about burglars and robbers. He knew they dressed in weird, dark colors and broke into houses at night. This man was obviously here to steal things from the Dursleys!
Out of fear of making a sound, he sat rooted to the spot. It must have been five minutes and the figure hadn't moved an inch.
Harry frowned. He watched a cartoon-y safety video with the rest of his class. It showed a man in dark clothes with a brown bag and a flashlight walking around the house and taking things. The only thing was, the burglar depicted comically walked around on his tip-toes or in an exaggerated "stealthy walk". This figure just stood there. Harry wondered if this was what real burglars did… He idly wondered where the "stealing" part came in.
Suddenly, the dust in his cupboard tickled his nose. Before he could stop it, he had let out an explosive sneeze in the silence of the house.
Horrified, he clamped his hand to his mouth and shuddered as he slowly turned back to the grate opening. The figure was still in the same spot as before, but it had shifted its position…
Towards his cupboard!
Harry scrambled backwards against the far wall of his space, giving a muffled cry as his broken arm reminded him of its presence. He decided that any more noise he made would be useless anyways since the burglar obviously knew where he was.
All he heard was his own breathing as he watched the light through the vertical slats of the vent. The figure didn't make any sound at all, but it moved in front of the grate, blocking out the light. Something that sounded like the soft slithering of a snake moved around out there and he heard the soft *click* of his cupboard latch.
Confused, Harry sat pressed against the wall as the figure moved away and light came pouring back in. He didn't dare to move for a long time until he heard the clock chime 1.
He slowly made his way back to the vent and peered out.
The moon was still up and he couldn't see anything around. Cautiously, he leaned against the door and almost lost his balance as it swung open. He opened it fully and stepped out into the moonlit house.
The figure wasn't around, nor were any footprints or any indication he was ever there.
Harry went back to his cot in the cupboard to mull things over.
How do I explain this? He thought. What would Uncle Vernon say if I tell him someone broke in and did nothing but unlatch my cupboard? He'd probably just accuse me of unlocking it myself and see a new padlock and deadbolt put on as well. Then, he'd probably accuse me of stealing despite the fact that nothing's missing.
He sighed and shifted his weight. Again, he felt a sharp flare of pain from his arm. Looking down, he saw the skin had gone blotchy around the pain and a few cuts started giving off a yellowish goo. He wasn't squeamish, though. The Dursleys had given him cuts and burns before that caused that yellow stuff sometimes.
Though, he couldn't stop to clean it before.
He only had short baths spaced very far apart. His 5 minute bathroom breaks weren't nearly enough to do his "business" and clean the wounds adequately. The rest of the time, he was either in his cupboard or out working in the garden.
Looking down at the yellow pus and bruises, he decided mysterious man or no, he could get out of his cupboard for once and deal with the pain. He slowly opened the door, cringing every time the hinges creaked in the silent house, but the continuous muffled snoring allowed him to relax.
He crept up the staircase, careful to avoid any creaky floorboards and stair steps that had been weakened by the strain of having to deal with his cousin's and uncle's weights. He managed to get to the washroom on the upper level.
He left the lights off. Thankfully, the moonlight through the window was more than enough to work by. He opened the faucet to a silent trickle and took an old towel from under the sink and wetted it. He gingerly dabbed at his wounds, slightly relieved as the blood and pus wiped away. He searched in the cabinet and found a small first aid kit.
Inside was a small first aid booklet. He flipped to the page on broken bones and found some bandages and a spare lead pipe from the cabinet under the sink. He put a layer of bandage over his arm and lined up the pipe along his forearm to the palm of his hand so it kept his wrist flat. Then, following the book's instructions, he secured the pipe with a few more layers of the bandages. He cut the bandages off with some large shears that came with the kit.
It was uncomfortable, but it helped him not move his arm as much.
He also found some antibiotic ointment as well. He was immensely relieved when he put it on the cuts and the stove burn from earlier. It cooled the mildly burning pain and his cuts felt "cleaner" than they had in years.
He closed the top lid to the toilet and sat on it. He kept gently dabbing on the cooling ointment and even putting a few band-aids on some of the worse cuts and scrapes.
After a few minutes, he sat there, collecting his thoughts and allowing the ointment to help relieve the pain. It was very relaxing; the dim moonlight was not as harsh as the bathroom light's glare and he was relieved at the silence throughout the house.
Save for a mild ringing in his ears.
Confused, he gently fiddled with his ears to see if the ringing would go away. Interestingly, he found that after moving his head around, the ringing seemed to have a source. Swiveling his head around, he determined it was outside.
Slowly, he went to the single window in the room and peered through the curtains.
In the dim light from outside, he could make out a few trees, the outlines of the other houses, the lamppost-
He gasped when he saw it.
Under the streetlight's dim cone of yellow light, was a figure in a business suit. Harry was frustrated that the tall figure's face was obscured by the darkness just outside the cone of light, but he knew that it was the same character that managed to get in the house.
Again, Harry got the distinct impression the figure was looking right at him; as though he knew that the young boy was looking out the window despite being in the darkened bathroom and hidden behind a layer of curtains.
The black-haired youth, almost defiantly, stared back at the figure. Almost daring him to make a move. He could swear he heard the distorted sound of chuckling inside his own head; like a laugh from another channel on the TV that didn't quite tune right through the static.
*Thump!*
He whirled around to the sound, his ears straining to find the source. The house was completely silent and he waited for a few seconds before cautiously turning back around to the window.
The figure was gone.
So was the slight ringing and static. Harry frowned in confusion, grateful for the silence to think in. It was a lot easier to concentrate and think than his thought being broken by Vernon's snores-
Wait…silence.
He was blinded as the lights to the bathroom suddenly flared to life. His eyes couldn't make out much in the harsh light, but he saw the large figure of his Uncle in the doorway.
"YOU!"
Harry saw the large blur start hulking its way towards him.
"WHAT THE DEVIL ARE YOU DOING OUT OF YOUR CUPBOARD, BOY!?"
In a split second decision, Harry picked up the silver shears he used to cut the bandages. His Uncle picked him off the ground by the neck and Harry flailed wildly. The shears managed to cut his Uncle on the arm and the larger man cried out in pain, releasing the smaller child.
Harry scrambled backwards as his Uncle hissed in pain with his other hand clamped over the wound to help staunch the mild flow of blood. He looked down and saw an opening on his Uncle's left side. He dove for it, but was snatched up again by the irate uncle. This time, Harry's bandaged left arm, fortified with a lead pipe, managed to collide his Uncle's leg. He thought he heard a small *crack!* and his uncle howled in pain before collapsing and clutching his shin.
Harry took the opportunity and scrambled out of the bathroom. He raced down the stairs and threw open the door to the night air. Just before he was off Number 4's lawn, he heard his uncle's bellow echo across the neighborhood.
"POTTER!"