January 1988 – Year 3
Christmas had been as disappointing as Christmas usually was. Aunt Marge had visited again, and while Dudley had got a computerised robot, the promisingly large present for Harry under the tree for him had turned out to be a box of dog biscuits. She'd laughed at him so hard she almost spilled her glass of sherry, when he thanked her dutifully for the gift despite his woeful face. He'd tucked them away in his room for emergencies since his cache of food from school was all eaten up. He thought he might get desperate enough to eat the biscuits some time, you never knew. He'd had to go without dinner on Christmas Eve when he hadn't finished mowing the lawn, doing the dishes, doing the ironing and folding and putting away all the washing when he was done. Harry had apologised for being so slow, but had to sit at the table while everyone else ate and he went hungry despite his efforts. Maybe his father had hated Christmas. There were probably religions that hated Christmas, and this was his just punishment for being part of that. Harry wasn't game to ask and confirm it was his fault. It was best not to draw attention to things that were wrong with him. Sometimes, if he worked very hard, and was extra obedient, he got to pick over the leftovers. There hadn't been many leftovers these holidays with Aunt Marge visiting. Thank goodness she was gone at last, and they were back at school.
The first week back didn't go as well as Harry had hoped. Dudley didn't like the school lunches as much as Harry did. It was a bit of a shock to his system to go from the massive portions his mother (and Harry) served up to him, then be limited to the much smaller school lunches which weren't always very appetizing to boot. But this week had been worse than usual for the menu had featured international foods which Dudley hated. There had also been far too much salad, which Uncle Vernon called "rabbit food" and had taught Dudley to scorn. Dudley fell back on the usual trick he employed when he felt deprived, which was to stop by Harry's table. When the teachers weren't looking (which was more often than Harry would like) he'd help himself to any food on Harry's tray that he liked the look of, especially any desserts. Harry knew better than to fight back. If he tried that Dudley tipped his tray onto the ground and stepped in his lunch. Then he blubbered that Harry had ruined his lunch. Harry got detention, and Dudley got seconds. After a week of this treatment (which had been preceded by a fortnight of short rations at home) Harry was reaching breaking point. And then, it got worse.
Dudley had broken his new robot. He'd started getting bored with its electronic beeps and how the laser was just a red light. So his latest game was to make it a "ninja attack robot" and jab its hard plastic limbs at Harry with improvised "karate chop" attacks. It was, sadly, one of the most creative games Dudley had ever come up with. The problem was that his robot was not sturdy enough to cope with the level of abuse he was subjecting it to, and "Godzilla" Harry eventually proved to be the more robust of the two. One of the robot's arms snapped clean off while Dudley jabbed at Harry as he wrestled wet bedsheets out of the washing machine and into the dryer. As Dudley's round moon face broke out into tears and he waddled off in search of sympathy, Harry knew he was going to be the one blamed for this. There was really no point in trying to talk his way out of it, as he was never believed, so he decided at least he should make sure he was seen to be doing well with his chores when his aunt or uncle decided to take him to task for his wanton destruction of another of Dudley's toys. He hurriedly finished up in the laundry, and Aunt Petunia caught him in the kitchen cooking dinner, to berate him as expected.
"Do you know how expensive that robot was? Aunt Marge was very generous this year and your petty destruction of Dudley's robot just because you couldn't wait for your turn is unbelievable! You will have to apologise to Dudley and write a letter to Aunt Marge too, explaining how sorry you are!"
Deep down Harry knew arguing never helped, but sometimes he couldn't help it in the face of unfair accusations. "I didn't even touch his robot, I promise Aunt Petunia. I was just getting the laundry done like you asked."
"Your lies and ingratitude for all we do are never-ending. Do you think Dudley wouldn't tell me what happened? I know it was all your fault - grabbing at his robot like that. Robots don't break on their own, you idiot boy! And there'll be no chicken dinner for you tonight. You'll have to make do with a slice of bread and butter and be thankful for it. And the same goes for next week, too. You'll have to pay for Dudley's new robot somehow, and that will have to do. You eat so much you're a burden on this family," his aunt concluded unfairly, considering the matter settled.
Harry fumed quietly at the dinner table that evening as he watched everyone else eat their plates of roast chicken and potatoes with gravy that he'd cooked, but wasn't allowed to even try. His single slice of bread and butter had been eaten quickly, but didn't fill the void in his stomach. Or heal the ache in his heart. He tried so hard to do well, to be normal, but what was he to do when Dudley got him in trouble all the time? He was so hungry. He didn't think it was normal to be so hungry, unless you were one of those starving children in Ethiopia the Dursleys liked to talk about so much whenever he complained about his food. This wasn't Ethiopia, it wasn't fair, and it wasn't normal. Maybe it was time to try and fix that. Maybe, like with his room, all he needed to do was speak up about it.
"I don't think this is a normal amount of food," Harry started bluntly and recklessly, "I know you're mad at me because Dudley's robot got broken, but I don't think other boys have to go without dinner for a week when something goes wrong."
"Other boys aren't freaks like you," said Dudley smugly. "You broke my robot so you have to pay for it."
"That's right," agreed Uncle Vernon, between mouthfuls of chicken. "I'm not having hoodlum behaviour in my house."
"But I don't think it's a normal amount of food," said Harry stubbornly. "Dudley always gets more food than I do, even when I've done nothing wrong at all. And I never get any pudding."
"Dudley's a growing boy who needs plenty of food," explained Aunt Petunia.
Uncle Vernon nodded. "A big-boned boy like Dudley needs more food. Who knows what's normal for a little shrimp like you."
"Well I'm going to ask my teacher," decided Harry. "I'm sure she can tell me what's a normal amount of food."
"There's no need to go complaining to anyone!" said Aunt Petunia with alarm. "What you eat is suitable for a boy your size."
"I bet it's not," huffed Harry angrily. "Headmistress Roemmele said last detention that I need to stop wasting my lunch, which I don't do anyway because it's Dudley who always eats my desserts and wrecks things."
"I do not!"
Harry continued his rant, ignoring Dudley. "She said I look like a skeleton, all bony in horrible baggy clothes. She said I need to take better care of myself and my things, but how can I look normal or dress normal when you won't let me even try? I'm going to tell her it's all your fault!"
"It's your fault for being a freak!" yelled Dudley. "You don't deserve anything nice, Mummy says so. You make everything go wrong."
"You're lucky we took you in! You should be grateful for all we do for you, you ungrateful little freak!" bellowed Uncle Vernon.
"Well I don't want to be a freak!" yelled Harry back at them all. "I'm trying so hard! And if you think I'm such a freak then you can explain to the headmistress and all my teachers and me exactly what's wrong with me that I don't deserve food or nice clothes!"
"That's enough out of you! Go to your room! NOW!" yelled Uncle Vernon, who was turning purple with anger. Aunt Petunia just looked really worried. Harry pushed back from the table and hurried up to his room fearfully. He didn't want a beating, which was usually what he got when he made his uncle that angry.
He did end up being smacked ("for disrespect and ingratitude") after Uncle Vernon finished his pudding, but it wasn't one of the worst punishments he'd ever had so Harry counted himself lucky.
The next morning, things were… different. Aunt Petunia said he wouldn't have to go without dinners, but would have to work extra hard on his chores to make up for breaking Dudley's robot. And at breakfast he was told to serve himself an egg with his slice of toast, and two pieces of bacon instead of one.
Aunt Petunia explained it to him. "Vernon and I talked about it and we think maybe you might be starting a growth spurt and need some extra food. You didn't need as much before - but it's true you've been getting a bit thin lately. Of course you don't need as much food as Dudley - he's much bigger than you. But a little more will be alright." And with very little effort she extracted from a grateful Harry his promise that he really didn't need to talk to the teachers about anything. He even thanked her profusely, to her hidden relief.
The next week he even got given some new clothes for school. They were second-hand and still a bit too big for him, but they looked worlds better than Dudley's cast-offs. Uncle Vernon told him it was a late Christmas present - it had just taken a little time to get ready. Given it was just a pile of clothes in a plastic bag, not even wrapped up, Harry didn't see why it would take more time to get ready than Dudley's eighteen presents. But he didn't want to look this gift horse in the mouth too closely. He thought maybe dropping Headmistress Roemmele's name into the conversation had been the thing that had done the trick. Harry knew his own opinion didn't count for much with the Dursleys, but they liked the headmistress so perhaps her thinking he was skinny had weighed heavily in his favour. Harry hoped he was going through a growth spurt. But up would be nice, rather than out like Dudley.
