THE ISSUES AT PRIVET DRIVE
Location- Little Whining, Surrey. On the street consisting of the same perfect, large, brown square houses that held the same perfect, large, square people everyone was tucking into their happy little families and dinners for the night. Everyone that is but one. In the smallest bedroom at Number Four was a boy who was going through his own personal hell. The bedroom was dark and smelly. It had an open wardrobe with a pair of huge jeans peeking through, as well as a pair of black school robes. The desk near the window was littered with parchment, ink, and a few broken quills, The rest of the desk was obscured by a large dirty cage, with a large, snowy owl that was held captive inside.
In the far corner of the room on the right side was a twin bed, with an old, creaky mattress on an old creaky frame. There was a flat stained pillow on it, as well as a sheet, stained with blood, and a torn blanket dangling at the end; and atop the bed, a figure was stirring in his sleep. This figure was in a ball, lying on his right side, in a semi-fetal position, breathing deeply. Then, a loud, angry yell woke the twitching child.
"BOY! GET YOUR LAZY ARSE UP NOW!" It sounded as if a tyrannosaurus Rex had entered the building. Mr. Vernon Dursley who was at the bedroom door knew his poor nephew was asleep so now was the perfect time to address the latest business he had with the boy.
Slowly, the child sat up, rubbing his big, peridot-green eyes. He proceeded to stand up, almost falling flat on his face. He was a slight five foot five inches and weighed a considerable amount less than a boy who was on the verge of turning fifteen. He had jet-black hair, which was messy and was covered in dried blood. The fringe reached passed his eyes and the rest grew past his ears and now down his neck. This boy was none other than the famous Harry James Potter, hero of the wizarding world.
"GET DOWN HERE NOW POTTER!" bellowed Vernon before he swayed his large body down the staircase.
"Coming!" Harry croaked. He tried to tighten the belt over his too-large jeans, but he had tightened it so much on his tiny waist already it didn't budge anymore. He pulled on his stained, frayed, and faded shirt, and slowly made his way downstairs.
The carpet felt nice and cool to Harry's bare feet although he had to limp for his ankle was paining him. He kept his head low until he reached the landing, where he put his sad face up to face his beefy uncle. Uncle Vernon was holding something in his hand; a familiar, leather something.
He glared at his nephew and grunted, "In, now," pointing to the living room.
Harry sighed, but fallowed the direction his uncle's finger was pointing. Deciding his nephew was taking too long, Vernon shoved him in. Harry caught himself just in time.
"I heard you didn't finish your list today," spoke Vernon with a menace glare.
Harry gulped and licked his parched lips. 'The list' was a list containing chores Harry had to complete before Vernon came home from work. A lot of times there wasn't anything to do around the house but the Dursleys felt it was best to keep Harry busy rather than allow him to broad about in his room. Today, he had to wash the car, clean the attic, clean everyone's bedroom, do the dishes, paint the shed, and water the plants. Harry had not watered the plants, nor had he finished the shed.
"I- I haven't sir," Harry said softly. His uncle glared at him, if possible; harder.
Harry looked up at him with the most mournful face of any fourteen-year-old boy. He boasted a black eye, two deep cuts over the bridge of his nose, (which made putting his broken glasses on a pain) a huge bruise on his right cheek, bruises littering his whole body, a swollen wrist he knew was broken that held a gash right above it, welts, his paining ankle and last but most certainly was not going to be the least, a deep gash on top his left foot. None of this helped out the fact that the last time he ate anything was three days ago and no one in their right mind would consider two slices of stale bread a 'meal'.
The uncle took his nephew by his arms and threw him to the ground with severe force. He then began to kick the teenager's back, as well as strike it with the thing he was holding- a leather belt. Vernon then struck his arms and neck, creating new wounds, and re-opening old ones. Then he did something he hadn't before, and stomped his pointed shoe on top of Harry's hip. Harry tried hard as he could to not cry out but a small noise still past his lips. And on, and on it went, for twenty more minutes. This had been going on for so long now that Harry expected it every day. Uncle Vernon's drill company, Grunnings, had been suffering for some time now, and not wanting to appear he didn't know what to do, he took it out on his nephew. He was convinced the boy had something to do with it. Uncle Vernon blamed him and beat him since the first day he came back from his 'freak' school. He would beat him before he left work, sometimes after, and sometimes just because.
"You- you won't get away with this," Harry panted when there was a break in the beating. "My godfather will come. He'll come and what he does to you will be worse than anything you can do to me."
Uncle Vernon grabbed the boy's shirt. "You dare speak of him!" With a giant blow to the face Harry stumbled backwards into the wall. After a minute of watching Harry's pained face, he dragged the child up to his room and locked him inside.
Harry took in deep breaths after his uncle's footsteps died away outside. He then painfully crawled over to his wardrobe and pulled out one of his cousin's Dudley's old shirts he had to wear, and wrapped it around his left arm to slow the bleeding. Once he wrapped his left foot and ankle in another shirt, he applied pressure to his cut cheek with a sock. His right wrist hurt terribly. He then got to his feet and hobbled over to his bed and painfully lied down. He hurt all over but willed himself to not fuss over it. He was too strong and proud to begin crying now. He never cried and didn't want to make a habit out of it. He stared up at the ugly ceiling above his bed trying to not think of the horrors that was his life. The one thing he willed himself to not think about was everything that had happened to him weeks before now. All the terrors of that night…the agony and the unknown. The pain and surprise no one was prepared for. Cedric Diggory's death and even worse, Voldemort's rebirth. He spent enough days having nightmares about this as it was.
What Harry wanted more than anything was for Sirius to come rescue him but as far as he knew that wasn't possible. He was probably hiding away again somewhere, most likely that cave he took up residence at in the village of Hogsmeade. What he also wanted was to see his friends. People devoted their holidays with their friends and what would he give to see Ron and Hermione again. Especially Hermione, she had helped him out so much the past school year. Staying up with him during late hours, not caring about anything but his safety. He wanted someone to care about him like that now.
Harry finally sighed, gritted his teeth in pain and began another fretful night of falling asleep, not before a tear finally found its way down his cheek.
Love and magic: Rose, May 13, 2013
