The black haired boy's fingers shook as he tried to pull up the weeds. He was so dizzy. If only he could eat. He accidentally pulled up one of his aunt's roses. He closed his eyes and hoped that she would never know. He looked around quickly before he threw the rose into the garbage bag that he was using. Suddenly, he heard the back door open and he trembled with fear.
Harry James Potter was four going onto five, but he looked a lot younger than his age. For as long as he could remember, he lived with his Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon and Cousin Dudley. He once had parents, but they had died when he was baby, though he did not know this.
His days were spent doing chores for his relatives. Most of what he did was inside, because his aunt and uncle didn't want the neighbour's to know that he lived with them. However, in the mornings, he was allowed in the backyard to work on the gardens. There were high fences so the only way someone would know he was back there was if they looked over the fence.
If Harry didn't do his chores, he wasn't allowed to eat, so he tried his best. It had been a few days since his last beating. He really hoped his aunt wouldn't notice that he had accidentally pulled up a rose. He stared at her as she made her way over to him. He stood up slowly.
"You just pulled up one my roses," she hissed. "I saw you through the window!"
She pointed to the kitchen window angrily. Harry trembled even more as she glared down at him. She grabbed him by his hair and pulled him towards the house. He tripped over his long pants as he went. Because his aunt and uncle weren't willing to spend money on him, he had to wear his cousin's hand-me-downs. His clothes were much too large for his tiny frame. Dudley Dursley was very overweight though he was only four, and outgrew his clothes rather quickly.
Harry tried to hold in his tears as they went. He wasn't allowed to show that he was in pain; otherwise the punishment would be a lot worse.
"You're an ungrateful disgusting brat, you know that?" she yelled as soon as they were in house.
SMACK!
She had released his hair and had smacked him across the face with all her strength. He fell to the floor hard and silently started to cry.
"I am so damned sick of you! We take you in, we feed you and this is how you repay us?"
He was hauled back up and she gave him another smack across the face. He knew he wasn't supposed to cry, but he couldn't help it. He heard her sit down on a chair, and then she grabbed a hold of him. She pulled down his pants and underpants and then pulled him over her lap. She took his pants all the way off and he heard them hit the ground. She lifted his sweater and started to smack him hard.
"STOP CRYING!" she yelled.
He couldn't help it. He didn't understand why it was forbidden to cry when it hurt so much. Really, it was better when she spanked him though. If it was Uncle Vernon, he would whip him with a belt. He preferred his aunt's hand spankings.
"DON'T. YOU. EVER. WRECK. MY. GARDENS. AGAIN!" she shrieked.
She shoved him off her lap and he fell to the ground. He wanted to lie on the floor sobbing, but he knew it wasn't allowed. He headed to his cupboard instead.
"No, this means the basement. You know better than to destroy our possessions," she said.
Harry lived in a cupboard under the stairs most of the time, but when he was being punished severely, he had to spend a few days in the basement. He didn't mind this in the summers but any other time, he froze. When it was hot out, he was thankful for the cool dampness of the basement since he owned no summer clothes.
He looked up at her, his eyes pleading. Sorry Aunt Petunia, it was accident, I'm just so dizzy! She just shoved him along and said something along the lines of: Wait until your uncle gets home. Harry shook at that thought as he made his way down to the basement. His uncle would hurt him even more.
As soon as he was in the basement, he fell to the floor sobbing. He heard something land next to him and then the door was slammed shut. He reached for whatever it was, he hoped that it was a blanket… but no it was just his pants. The basement was still awfully cold in the spring.
He pulled his underpants and pants back on before he curled up in a ball for warmth. He sobbed hard.
The basement door opened a while later. Harry kept his eyes closed, but he knew from the heavy footsteps that it was his uncle. Moments later he was pulled up from the ground by his hair. For the third time that day he was smacked hard across the face, and then again. He was going to have a headache later. His uncle's slaps were a lot worse than his aunts.
"You stupid little son of a bitch!" his uncle hissed. "Your aunt told me everything! And you were going to some food today. You just blew it once again! How dare you destroy her roses! What do you have to say for yourself?"
"Accident," Harry answered. "I'm sorry Uncle Vernon. Didn't mean too."
"You were an accident! You should have died with your parents, but no, instead we're stuck with you. We've tried to be nice. We feed you, we clothe you, we give you a room to stay in, and how do you repay us? By continuing to misbehave, destroying our possessions AND USING THOSE FREAKY POWERS! Well, I've had it boy! This is the end."
His uncle grabbed an old chair and sat down on it. Once again Harry's bare bottom was exposed, but this time his uncle took a belt and whipped him. He cried out which only made his uncle angrier.
"Please, I'm sorry!" Harry sobbed.
"Sorry? Sorry doesn't do it anymore boy. I am sick and tired of you! You're out of here!"
He shoved Harry to the floor and then stomped back up the stairs. Moments later he returned with an old bucket and a large pitcher of water.
"You can stay down here until we decide what to do with you," he growled.
As soon as he was gone Harry curled back up in a ball and started to cry again. He didn't bother to put his pants back on that time. He hoped his uncle would kick him out. Anywhere was better than here.
Harry didn't know how much time passed before he saw his uncle again. He had already finished most of the water in the pitcher, and the bucket was half full. Without saying a word, Uncle Vernon grabbed the bucket and beckoned Harry to follow.
"Put you pants back on and bring that pitcher! You're going to wash this, and they we're going for a car ride."
Harry hadn't put his pants back on since the beating. His bottom still hurt a lot, but he had also used them as a pillow. He quickly got dressed and then hurried after his uncle with the pitcher. It was very dark upstairs, which meant that it was night time. When they were in the kitchen, Harry put the pitcher on the table.
"You can clean this out back, and mark my words boy, if it's not clean enough, this last beating will be the worst you'll ever get."
They went out into the backyard, where his uncle turned on the garden hose and handed him a bottle of dish detergent. Harry worked hard at cleaning. He hoped he wouldn't have to get a beating at all. He couldn't see anything, so it was hard to tell if the bucket was clean enough.
When his uncle returned, he checked the bucket over with a torch.
"You're lucky boy," he growled. "Now let's go. Don't you dare make a sound!"
Harry followed his uncle through the back gate and out to the driveway where the car was parked. He climbed into the backseat.
"Wait," he whispered when his uncle got into the front seat. "Gotta bring my blankey. It's in my cupboard."
He expected Uncle Vernon to snap at him, but for some reason he didn't. He got back out of the car and made his way back into the house. A few moments later he returned with an old blanket and threw it at Harry.
"Might as well get rid of any trace of you," he muttered.
Harry hugged the blanket to him closely. His mother had made it for him, he knew that much. His aunt had told him once when he'd asked about it. That had meant that she loved him, wherever she was. He knew that he was leaving his uncles place forever, so he decided to ask. The man couldn't hurt him when he was driving.
"Uncle Vernon, where's my mummy?"
He didn't answer at first and Harry figured he wasn't going to.
"Dead," he finally answered. "Dead, and so is your sorry excuse of a father. They died in a car crash. I'm surprised Petunia never told you that."
Aunt Petunia had always hit him if he even dared to ask. He hesitated a moment.
"Uncle Vernon, what's died mean? Where is dead?"
"You're an idiot, you know that? They're gone and they can never come back. Do you remember that cat that got hit by a car?"
"Yes."
Harry remembered. Dudley had seen it get hit, and Harry had dared to take a peek at the cat. He had been shoved into his cupboard for almost exposing himself to the neighbours, but he'd seen the squished cat.
"Well that's what happened to them."
Harry wondered why his uncle was being so patient with him now. Normally he would have yelled at him for asking so many questions. He decided not to press his luck. He kept quiet for the rest of the trip. His uncle drove out of town, and into the country where there were a few farms.
He must have fallen asleep because his uncle was shaking him awake. They were in another town; he knew that much because of the street lights, he just didn't know where.
"If anyone asks you were you came from, do not tell them about us! Do you understand? If someone brings you back, I'll personally make sure your life is a living hell!" Uncle Vernon said. "This is our gift to you. Do not make me regret it!"
Harry clutched his blanket as he scrambled out of the car.
"Uncle, where am I?" he asked.
"You're in London. Do you know where you used to live?"
Harry shook his head.
"Good, remember! Don't tell anyone about us. If they ask where you came from, tell them you're an orphan!"
Harry nodded. His uncle looked around, there was no one walking around. As if he couldn't resist it, he gave his nephew one more hard smack across the face. The boy fell to the ground and started to cry, but Vernon had already jumped back into the car. The tires squealed as he drove away.
Though he felt exhilarated at first, he suddenly felt frightened as his sobs subsided. He was all alone in a strange place. He was still on the road; quickly he hurried over to a sidewalk. He took his blanket and wrapped it around himself before he lay back on the ground. He sobbed himself to sleep.