Harry's POV
Harry read Mara's letter, confusion building up as he wondered why she could not tell him very much more about his parents, and why she felt that the Dursleys were mistreating him. Vernon's rule no.1, don't tell anyone how we treat you. Harry was she he had not broken this rule, but then how would Mara know? He thought back over his letters, but no, he could not think of a time when he had said he was hurt, only that he is just given the punishment he deserved.. 'Was it wrong to tell her that?' Harry wondered silently, snapping quickly back to reality as Petunia shouted to get dinner ready.
'Come on then boy!' She shouted, as Harry walked past her, head downcast. He couldn't see the conflicting emotions in her face, as she regretted shouting at him, but knew she had to as her husband was listening. God forbid, if Vernon knew she actually cared a little for her nephew. Harry flinched as she yelled again, 'Hurry up, boy!', before mouthing quietly, 'I'm sorry Harry.'
Vernon had no idea that Petunia cared for him, he didn't notice the food that she left for Harry to eat, the extra food she asked him to make, then to throw away. He didn't notice her casually turning up the heating on cold nights, so Harry stayed a bit warmer on the cellar. He didn't notice the extra blankets she began to 'store' in the cellar. Harry didn't know either, that his mother's sister cared for him, his hatred for his Uncle seemed to cover all members of his family.
Harry hurried to the kitchen, not looking at his uncle and cousin who were sprawled over the sofas watching the television, not noticing the caring look Petunia gave him. He quickly set to making the large amount of sandwiches the Dursleys required for lunch, piling them up on a plate before carrying them into the living room. 'Well done, freak, you actually managed to do it this time, without harming yourself.' Vernon laughed, his many chins wobbling, whilst Harry simply nodded, and returned to the kitchen, ignoring his aunt as she gracefully walked past. He remembered the last time he had had to make sandwiches, when he was rushing and cut his finger. There was so much blood, Harry felt a little faint, but ignored it, knowing that there would be much worse pain should he disappear whilst making his Uncle's lunch. Wrapping a towel around it, Harry quickly finished the lunch, and took it into his uncle, who saw his bloody hand and just laughed. 'You had better not have gotten any blood anywhere you freak. Incapable of even making a sandwich! Pathetic.' When Harry removed the towel, and gently washed the blood off, he saw that there was no cut there, and no evidence of his hand ever being cut. He dismissed it, wanting to concentrate on finishing the job, and escaping punishment.
In the kitchen, Harry tidied up, shaking the memories from his head. Once finished, he quickly ate the crust that was left, along with a glass of water. Setting the washing machine going, Harry sneaked a glance at the living room, and seeing that his family was preoccupied, quietly looked at the letter that had been addressed to his parent/guardian.
AN: thanks to all those reading, hope to get another chapter up later tonight!