AN(for the future, bolded stuff is a AN note) : Sorry that its been so long. I've got exams coming up, college applications(which take a heck a lot of time, since there are tests for the Graphic/Media Design course I'm trying to enter) and I'm trying to find a summer job. Also, this chapter is slightly longer. I intend to keep making them as long as possible. Unless reviewers say I ought not to. Also, thenk you very much, Rough Diamond. Your review has been a major part of what made me write this chapter.
I love reviews, so please review, it makes me write more. On with the story.
Harry lay in his closet. It had been some time after the attempt.
That didn't work.
Harry was hungry, very hungy. He had not been fed for….long? Well he had cooked three warm meals for them…..but he was different…..So maybe he needed to eat less? No, his body wanted, needed food.
Food, that is what he wanted. Needed. Where could he find food? The door was locked. As he knew, none of the chemicals where eatable*
When Petunia made him do garden work, with the flowers he was always interested. There was a whole, bright world out there. Sadly he didn't go out that much. Sometimes there was even a cold wind, to ease the summer heat. But there was much outside, but it was usually very bright. And then there were the flowers. Petunia loved her flowers. She was proud of them.
The flowers were eatable, as Harry had found out. Almost all of them. Some tasted not nice, he though, but he'd live. Food was more important. But then when Petunia found out, she'd get angry and he'd get more lockings. Lockings….Long time in his cupboard, after his beating, without food and water. But if he ate some of the roots, it would still grow and Petunia wouldn't notice. Uncle and Dudley never noticed, because they never looked at the flowers.
The roots were under the ground, he'd have to dig the plant out. But Petunia usually didn't notice. Maybe if he dug underground, he'd find roots? And he wouldn't be discovered. He'd come back when the screech announced his uncles return and he'd be forced to make a warm meal. That was uusally the only reason he'd get out of a locking. He currently was in one, because he ate the roots and found all this out. But all that aunt Petunia thought was that he was 'ruining my precious flowers'.
Yes, he would dig underground . And he'd hide it with the big matress. They never really looked in his cupboard before he was dragged out, so that would help.
It was in the middle of the night, the others slept. He would start now.
Harry carefully flipped over the matress , putting it againsthe side of the door.
He found a hard, wooden floor. This would be hard, he thought. But Harry had prepared himself for this. He had gotten rid of some sharp metal thingies from the vacuum cleaner. It would work without them.
Harry began digging, clomping at the wooden for. He scratched it, dented it.
Soon his hands began to get sore. Harry stopped, because he knew he had to be able to use his hands for his chores.
What to do…Maybe if he could like, have hands of metal. Like on some of those shows Dudley watched on the TV screen. He'd once asked his uncle what the screen was. He remembered that speech, and the following beating.
''This screen! Is a TV! You are not worth watching it! You will never watch one or have one! You will never be abled to afford the electricity that a TV costs!''
After that, it had soon rambled in on how worthless he was. He may be worthless, he may be a freak, freak of nature. But he would get food.
But how would het get metal hands? Maybe if he willed very hard, and then said something, something catchey. Thats what the TV people did. They were different too, not like normal people. So maybe he could do that too?
After some hours of trying, he stopped. He had once thought he saw something shiny, metallic on his hands. But it must have been something in his eyes. But his hands had hardened for a while.
He would survive, he would suffice with something plastic to ram the metal bits through the floor.
Harry got through the plastic floor but then he encountered some kind of stone all over, he thought it might be called concrete or cement. But he weasn't sure which.
No matter how much he tried, it seemed to thick, to harsh to go through. He would be better of trying in the shed. If anything was broken or if the yard needed work. They'd make him do it. So nobody except him would enter.
*Eatable, not edible, do you really think a 7, orso year old would know the word edible? Well Harry doesn't. So the word use gets applied to that. After all, we're looking along with Harry here.