Chapter 12

Harry walked up to his bedroom, feeling numb. The Dursleys had given him odd looks all night, and he was tired of the staring. It was bad enough that one of his best friends might be dying in some Muggle hospital. He had heard enough from Ron to know that compared to the cutting and stitching he associated with medicine, the ways of wizards were significantly better.

He sat on the bed in the tiny room for a long while. He didn't have anything else to do. He couldn't talk to anyone. It was just him and his thoughts.

The door to the closet opened and his Aunt came in. She had a strange look on her face, like she was not used to using this expression and it hurt a little to attempt it. The expression was a sort of pitying one, the kind you gave when you were talking to someone about bad news.

"B-Harry." She said, deciding evidently that for once she could use his actual name. "I assume you'll be wanting to see this Granger girl, then?"

Harry was so surprised he didn't respond for a second. He nodded.

"Ok." Aunt Petunia said quietly. "I suppose Vernon owes it to the Grangers to see her. Especially since you're a friend."

Harry didn't answer. He recognized what this was. His Aunt couldn't allow herself to do anything for him alone. She was feeling a tiny bit of pity for him and trying to justify the complicated emotions with something else. He didn't care. He just wanted to see Hermione.


As it happened, the Dursleys brought him to the hospital the next day. It was not a very fancy place, as the area was not prosperous. It had a distinct quality in the off-white tiling that reminded a little too much of a mental hospital. It seemed like it could do with some colour to distract from the thought that it would be very easy to clean blood off tiles.

The room that Hermione lay in was equally stark and small. It had a number of complicated machines. Mr. and Mrs. Granger were in the room, as were the Weasleys…only barely able to fit. Vernon seemed flustered and offered an apology that lacked a certain quality of truthfulness. Seeing as his and his son's bulk would not permit easy entry, Vernon stayed outside. Petunia, feeling distinctly awkward, followed suit.

Hermione was bandaged and heavily bruised, but otherwise seemed surprisingly unharmed for someone who had suffered what she had. Mr. Weasley could not help glancing at all the machinery around him, while Mrs. Weasley commiserated with Hermione's parents. Ron just stared at her, not speaking. He didn't seem capable of moving from where he was. As he stood there, Ginny moved almost imperceptibly closer towards him. He didn't mind, and if he had, he didn't think he had the feeling in his limbs to move away.

"Why…" Ron said so softly that it was barely audible. "Why is she here?"

Both of his parents looked surprised at the question. His mother put a hand on his shoulder. "What do you mean, Ron?"

"Wh-why isn't she somewhere better?" he asked, unable evidently to censor himself. "Like St. Mungos?"

The Grangers looked at the Weasleys very oddly. Mr. Weasley had torn his eyes away from the machines to move over to his son. "Because she's fine here."

Mr. Granger, sounding hoarse and looking like he hoped he was not in the midst of some joke at his expense, asked the question that had been floating perceptibly in both his and his wife's minds. "What's St. Mungos?"

Mrs. Weasley seemed to decide, perhaps due to the look on Mrs. Granger's face, that honesty was the best policy. "This is perhaps the worst time to tell you this…" she began hesitantly. "but we think that your daughter is special."

Feeling that the Weasleys should have broached the subject differently, Harry watched the lack of understanding on the Grangers' faces.

"What my wife means," Arthur Weasley added, "is that your daughter has demonstrated certain talents that make her different from normal people."

There was even more misunderstanding. Mr. Granger spoke up. "I'm afraid I don't understand you…our Hermione has never shown any signs of being abnormal. I don't think…"

Ron didn't seem to be able to keep himself quiet. "What my parents mean is that Hermione can do magic." Harry thought Ron not only had probably created infinitely more complex questions that would need to be answered, but also was being rather loud.

The Dursleys seemed to agree. Harry noticed Aunt Petunia in her favoured position, listening by the door, just as she gave a slight but audible gasp. The mass of Vernon was such that the whole room heard Harry's uncle get up and push open the door.

"What is this I'm hearing? I heard you talking about magic!" he roared with such ferocity that both the Weasleys and the Grangers shrunk back in alarm. "There's no such thing as bloody magic!"

He grabbed Harry, dragging him bodily from the room. Ginny nearly tripped, as she had grabbed onto him in alarm. With the stares of the entire hospital following them, the Dursleys pushed out of the room. It was only at the car that Harry was finally let go of, but that was only to be thrown into the backseat.

"Look, boy…" Vernon said, the vein in his temple bulging. "I don't know what those red-haired nuts have been telling you, but there is no such thing as magic! They're filling your head with lies!"

Harry realized that the Dursleys had no idea how much Harry knew about the wizarding world. They were frightened of him, that much was clear.

Harry was immediately sent, or rather flung into his closet. He heard few sounds, though he thought he recognized the sound of a sweets wrapper being pulled apart on the stairs. At dinner, his uncle opened the door and half-handed, half-threw a plate with a slightly burnt piece of fish on it at him. He ate it all the same, ignoring the fact that his Aunt hadn't properly cooked it.

That night, he heard his Aunt and Uncle talking rather loudly, a sound that carried over the loud noise of Dudley's drum set. Though Harry had no way of judging time in his closet, at some point in the night Dudley did something to the drums that made one of them not work. Probably sat on it.

When Harry awoke groggily in the morning, it was to find his Uncle's ugly face pulling him out of his bed. "Look, boy…I know you were going to be at those Weasleys while we were gone," he snarled, looking displeased.

In truth, the Weasleys were going with the second-eldest brother, Charlie, to Romania, and thus would not have been around. Harry had not told the Dursleys that. He had hoped that he might be able to have some food left for him, but it was out of the question now.

"But you're staying here. It will be a week and a half. We'll be leaving food, but under no circumstances will you be leaving the house, understand?"

Harry nodded, too groggy to really understand.

"Good." Vernon said. He shoved Harry back onto the bed after thrusting a plate with a limp, cold sausage on it into his hands. He slammed the door.


The next three days were almost the same. Petunia seemed if anything to worsen in her attempts to cook. Harry had needed to avoid her attempt at pork chops, as it was so rare that it might as well have been straight from the pig.

When it finally came time for the Dursleys to leave, Harry was given a cup of tea and shut in the closet until they left. He waited patiently, knowing that they'd have to open the closet eventually. He heard bags being pulled down and people talking. Then the door opening and closing. It didn't open again.

Harry panicked. They had forgotten about letting him out. They were leaving him in a locked closet with no food or water for a week and a half. He prayed that one of them, maybe Aunt Petunia, would remember. He waited the whole afternoon for some sign. It never came.

He fell asleep, stomach growling. He was going to die in here. He knew he was going to die. The Dursley's neglect had never been truly life threatening before, but it had been close. This went over a long way. When he woke up, hoping it had been a dream, he was just greeted with a new sensation. It wasn't hunger anymore. Just the barely perceptible gnawing in his stomach. He lay, feeling helpless, praying that someone, maybe one of the Weasleys, maybe this "Dumbledore" that they talked about, would save him. By that afternoon, he had given up hope of rescue. It was about that time when he remembered. He remembered that he, Harry Potter, was a wizard. He had defeated the most powerful dark wizard known to his kind at the age of one. He could open this door.

He concentrated hard, imagining the lock clicking open. Nothing happened. He concentrated harder. Harder. He stared at it until his body felt dead from the strain. He felt too weak to do anything anymore. Oddly enough, this weakness gave him a sort of strength. He jumped up and began to pound on the door, sobbing. He did not want to die. He wanted to be a wizard. He wanted to be able to escape.

With that, his fist came down again…and the door was blasted open in the same way that Hermione had opened the Weasleys' door. Panting and falling to the ground, Harry dropped out of it. He moved downstairs weakly…and his empty stomach sagged further. Whatever Vernon Dursley had said, the food had vanished. Harry had a sick feeling that his cousin had gotten to it.

Hope draining, Harry collapsed in a chair. There was no money to order takeout or buy food at a store. There didn't appear to be anything palatable in the house, which shocked him. Surely Dudley hadn't gotten to the entire pantry.

Feeling if anything even weaker, Harry slumped further into the hard couch. Finally, he decided that he needed to leave the house to find food. Opening the door, he moved out and walked down the street. Every step hurt. He knew that he needed to get to the Burrow. That was the only thing that kept him going. He hadn't eaten very well for the last five days, and he could feel it.

It was a miracle that he reached the tower-like structure without collapsing. His body certainly felt like it might fall apart.

He opened the door, finding it invitingly unlocked. The empty house was odd without the constant movement of the Weasleys. They must have only left this morning, but already their absence could be noted in the stillness of the air. Harry made for the kitchen. He had no idea where he might find food (the Weasleys didn't appear to have a refrigerator) but he felt it was the best place to find it.

Harry's heart skipped a beat as he saw the empty counter. There was a note, but nothing else.

Dear Harry,

If you're reading this, then we assume the Muggles have either let you out or you got out on your own. We were worried they might take what they heard badly, so we just want to let you know that we have sent an owl to Dumbledore about it. We wish we could have made sure you were all right, but hopefully you can find a way to keep yourself fed. If you need something to eat, we've left some food for you by the oven.

Love, the Weasleys

Harry looked up. To his surprise, he was suddenly looking at a massive amount of food where before the counters had been scarce. He guessed it must be some sort of spell. Too hungry to think any further, Harry made for the sandwiches piled high on a plate.

He could not remember a time when food had tasted so good.

End of Chapter 12

I really wanted Harry to be left alone to starve in the house. I just felt that it was a very good situation to place him in, because he would naturally escape from it using magic. I can understand if you have objections, especially about the plausibility of there being no food in the Dursleys' house, but I felt that going to the Weasleys' house was an important thing that needed to be done.

I won't bore you guys with the entirety of his summer, since after this it becomes fairly mundane. Since the Dursleys won't let him leave the house, don't expect a terrible number of escapades, though I can say there will be a visitor to the Dursley house. Those events that do have merit will be summarized at the beginning.

In response to DukeBrymin: I was talking about mercy. It says that Calvin "screamed for mercy, but Dudley was too busy eating Calvin's lunch". Then I said that he wouldn't get off of him until Calvin accepted that Dudley was bigger and more important than him. I admit it's worded poorly, so that's my fault. Anywho, as I say all the time: there is no such thing as a bad review. I should warn you guys that I've been facing a little bit of writer's block now that the central plotlines have all been nicely put together, so I'm sorry if there's a shift in the quality of each chapter. I wish I had the time to spent two or three days proofreading each one, but I don't.

Up Next: The Dursleys receive a very interesting visitor, Hermione and Ginny find something they agree on, Harry suffers a very dull summer, and Dudley won't accept losing easily.