The Hundred Acre Wood
Disclaimer & Warnings: See chapter 1
Timeline: Saturday, August 3rd, 1991, foredawn
Chapter 37 – Between a Rock and a Hard Place
Boy was stuck in the middle of one of those damned if he did, damned if he didn't situations – Ma'am was unhappy.
Master didn't like Ma'am or Cousin to be unhappy - EVER. It was one of Master's rules that it was ALWAYS Boy's fault if they were. While nothing in Boy's life had ever been particularly 'fair', this was admittedly one of the least fair rules he had to live with. He'd little to no control over Ma'am and Cousin's level of happiness. And this morning was no exception.
Ma'am had woken up cranky and nothing pleased her. None of the things that had gone wrong had been Boy's fault, at least not that he could reason out and that worried him. Boy always regretted it when he had to wait until Master explained it to him, because that just reminded Master of even more things about which to be unhappy with him. It was always much better if he could figure it out on his own, and so avoid repeating the offence, but if he didn't… well, he supposed it really didn't matter because he'd have to pay for it anyway. That was the rule.
According to Master, Boy's culpability had all started when he'd pulled him back inside from the garden. As soon as the door closed behind him, Master had raised his fist to hit him, but instead hitting of Boy, Master's fist had hit the wall beside the front door.
Master looked from the hole in the wall, to Boy, and back again. Then his face went red with rage.
"Dammit Boy! You did that! Trying to avoid what you deserve! You ungrateful piece of gutter trash!"
Boy just hung his head and stared at the holes in the toes of his trainers. He hadn't meant to do it! He really wasn't sure even what had happened himself. It was as if something had intervened and changed the trajectory of the blow. He'd missed by at least a meter. It was very strange. Master had never missed hitting Boy before, at least not since Master had made the rule that he wasn't allowed to run away or hide from punishment. Now that Boy just had to stand very still and take it, he was always an easy target.
Everything else that had happened, had happened in the garden before Master came outside, and none of those were technically against any of the rules according to Miss Tonks. And the only rules he knew of, that he clearly did break, were violations against Miss Tonks… not Master. And the collar had already punished him for those, or Miss Tonks had forgiven him.
He racked his brain over everything that'd happened. He hadn't tried to stop Master when he started to kick Miss Tonks, as he had before with the owls. Instead, this time he'd just simply gotten in the way of Master's steel toed boot. He hadn't broken any rules doing that, and he'd already paid dearly for it with at least two more cracked ribs.
It was true that he'd tried to grab hold of something to avoid being pulled away from Miss Tonks, but after Master succeeded in pulling him back inside he'd stood very still so that Master could beat him for his audacity without straining himself too much. He hadn't run, he hadn't ducked, and he hadn't moved a muscle. He hadn't at all tried to avoid the punishment that he knew he deserved.
He'd have to own up to being an ungrateful piece of gutter trash though. That was certainly true enough. He wasn't very grateful, and he was trash.
He was grateful for the few moments of feeling safe and wanted in Miss Tonks arms. He'd never felt that before that he could remember. And even though it didn't last long, the memory would keep him warm for a very long time. And he was grateful that his book, blanket, and his father's glasses had been returned to him. All a little more broken, singed, and dirty, but he had them back and for that he was very grateful. However, that was all for which he was grateful.
Being ungrateful for living in a tiny cupboard, and for being starved and beaten and worse, well that wasn't anything new that he'd done wrong. So he wasn't sure what Master was accusing him of this time, unless it was the old standby reason that he'd been defiant enough not to stay dead when he should have.
Boy closed his eyes and sighed to himself in resignation. That must be it, he thought, he was still breathing Master's air without his consent. But since one of Master's rules was that he couldn't ask questions, he'd never been able to ask for permission to do so. It was just another not-so-fair rule that governed his life.
"Get down!" Master barked.
Boy immediately dropped to the floor on his hands and knees at the command, trying not to wince too much as he put pressure on his injured hand, as he knew showing any sign of discomfort at his punishments annoyed Master to no end, and just made them last longer. As he waited for the beating to start, he tried his best to not tense up. Whippings always hurt more if you tensed your muscles. However, it was hard not to tense while anticipating when and where the first blow would hit.
Bent on giving Boy his well deserved thrashing, Master took off his belt, folded it in half so it was a stiff loop, and proceeded to try and beat Boy with it. Nevertheless, try as he might, the belt fell short of Boy's back time after time. No matter how hard he swung the belt, Boy wasn't touched. Winded, Master finally let the belt drop with a thud. The echoing clink of the metal buckle hitting the marble floor of the foyer was drowned out by Master's heavy panting.
Boy didn't understand it. Why hadn't Master hit him? But far be it for him to question Master's wisdom in the matter. If Master wanted to change his mind, Boy was okay with it - definitely okay. He hurt enough as it was, and really didn't mind not being whipped again so soon after his last beating, which had been particularly long and brutal. Another whipping now would be sure to reopen all his wounds that had just started to scab over. As it was, the slightest movement still caused them to bleed. Boy let out a soft sigh of relief at his reprieve from punishment.
"Quit being insolent you little whore!" Master screamed at him in response to the sound.
"Hush Vernon! What'd I tell you about not waking Marge? And be careful not to use the 'w' word in front of Dudley. He's far too innocent to hear such talk," Ma'am's annoyed hiss came from the open kitchen doorway.
"I'll be careful, and don't worry about Marge. Nothing will wake her this morning. I slipped an extra sleeping pill into her wine last night. I slipped one to that miserable dog of hers too. I have… plans this morning," Master hissed back with a meaningful leer at Boy who trembled imperceptibly at the declaration.
"I don't care what plans you think you have Vernon. She'll wake up eventually. Bring the freak in here. He needs to get his chores done before she gets up."
"But Pet, I haven't got to…" Vernon started to whinge.
"No Vernon! Remember? Today is all about ME. Now quit playing with your toy and get him in here, he's got work to do, and then get rid of that other… person… in the front yard. She's got to go. She's trashing up the garden."
"Yes, dearest…"
'Don't know how the little blighter did that anyway… but I know it was him… damn freakishness… haven't squashed enough of it out of him yet…' Vernon grumbled under his breath, as he went to unlock the padlocked chain from the collar around Boy's neck. But as he reached down with the little key, it bent in midair as if it'd hit a steel wall.
"FINE! If you want to keep the chain on, you can keep it on, you little freak," Master sneered, finishing the bend in the key until it snapped in two. "That chain's never coming off again as long as I'm your master."
Boy hadn't moved the entire time, but a shiver ran through him at that declaration. He didn't want to stay on the chain forever! Unlike his collar, which had been around his neck for as long as he could remember, he was only on the chain when he was outside. Until recently, when it started acting strangely, he'd been able to ignore the thick collar around his neck, but his chain wasn't something he could overlook as easily. He always hated how it made him feel when he was tethered to it. Once, when he was first put on it, Master had laughed and forced him to eat from a dog dish with just his mouth, and called him a dirty whelp.
Being on the chain was one of the few things that he truly despised about being outside and working in the garden. It never failed to remind him that even an animal was more wanted and had more rights than he. When he was on the chain, he couldn't pretend away the reality of being a slave.
However, it didn't look as if he was going to have a choice in the matter. He didn't know why the key bent. In fact, it was the last thing he would've wanted to have happen. Nevertheless, now that it was broken, he was going to have to drag the chain with him wherever he went. It'd make his inside chores that much more difficult to complete without making any noise. He was sure to get more punishments as a result.
Master picked up the end of the chain and marched down the hall into the kitchen trailing it after him. As the slack in the chain began to rapidly diminish, Boy was jerked back into his grim reality. Breaking out of his trance he stumbled to his feet just in time to be pulled along.
"Do you think breakfast is going to cook itself? Get to work!" Ma'am yelled at him the minute he stepped foot in the kitchen. "I promised my Diddydums french toast and bacon this morning. He's had a traumatic time of it lately, thanks to you."
Without a word, Boy set to work making the rich egg and cream meal. Ma'am had left thick slices of his home baked bread out to dry the night before, so Boy set the slices to soaking in the custard mixture. After toasting the outsides to a beautiful crisp golden brown colour in a hot skillet, he set them to finish baking in the oven and turned his attention to the bacon. It was just starting to sizzle and release its tantalizing aroma into the air, when Master came back in from the front yard.
"There. That's done. I disposed of the trash as you wished dearest. We might want to think about moving. This neighbourhood seems to be going downhill. I saw a new neighbour this morning and he looks disreputable - not our kind at all. What with all the vandalism around, it's not a good influence on our Dudders," Master said, picking up the end of Boy's chain and securing it in a loop around the arm of his chair. Then wiping his hands together, he sat down at the table and flipped the newspaper open.
"It's the freak I tell you, he's the one causing all the trouble, not the neighbours. If it weren't for him, our Duddy wouldn't be in trouble with the law and we wouldn't have an appointment with CPS on Monday," Ma'am spouted off from the opposite end of the table between sips of her morning tea.
"By the way Vernon, did you get rid of that flying menace too? I don't want the judges to be attacked at the Fête. I still wonder whom that Figg woman got for judges. The neighbourhood committee said they wanted someone more 'impartial' this year. They seemed to think that Paula and Peter Polkiss were biased, just because I've won every year for the past six years that they've been judges. It's simply preposterous! I only won because I'm the best."
"Of course you are, my dear. As long as the filthy little freak didn't do the half-arsed job he normally does, I'm sure you'll win again this year, no matter who the judges are. If you don't, I'll exact satisfaction for you out of his hide myself with pleasure. And don't worry about the owl. It didn't give me too much trouble this morning. After shooting the first one, the second one seems to be keeping a respectable distance. However, I did scatter more poisoned bait around just to be sure."
"Vernon… I just thought of something. How did that other person get into the yard to begin with?"
"I think our little slave was overstepping his bounds again. That's how. He was trying to make a friend," he said the word nastily as if it was some contaminated thing that smelled badly. "He forgot he was a slave. Forgot his place. I think it was the water. That was a big mistake Petunia. We were far too generous giving him an entire bottle of water. Give him a little something, and all of a sudden he thinks he's the Crown Prince of England, and can have anything he wants without permission."
Vernon suddenly yanked at the end of the chain, catching Boy off guard, so that he fell backwards to the floor with a crash.
"Did you think it was okay to have a friend Boy? Do you think you deserve one? Well? Answer me!"
"No, Master," Boy answered softly, assuming a position of respect in front of his master.
'I'm such a bad slave! Master had to remind me to bow. I should have done that the instant he came into the room. He's right. I'm forgetting my place.'
"Do you remember what you are?"
"Yes, Master."
"So what are you Boy? Are you a dog that you're grovelling on my clean floor getting it filthy? Should I get your dog dish out again?"
"No, Master, sor-sorry… Master," Boy scrambled to get back up to his feet, and then standing meekly with his head bowed, he waited for his next order.
'What else can I do wrong?' Boy criticized himself. 'That's twice now in one day I assumed what position Master wanted me in for punishment and instruction, and I was wrong both times. Master's right to be angry with me.'
"You should be sorry," Master said scornfully, his eyes narrowing as he scowled at his repentant slave. "Since your freakishness is showing itself again this morning, maybe you need to be reminded of what you really are. You don't seem to remember. So tell me Boy. Say the words. Acknowledge what you are."
Boy wanted to remain quiet and not say the hated words. However, as the collar started to remind him that he wasn't allowed to disobey a direct order, the memorized words of the abhorrent acknowledgement started tumbling out against his will. Soon he'd spoken all the horrible 'truths' they had drilled relentlessly into him for as long as he could remember.
"Are you anything else?" Master finally asked.
"Yes Master… I'm a w-w-whore," Boy whispered, effectively squashing down the last little bit of fragile self-esteem that Miss Tonks had planted in his heart when she said that she loved him.
"Damn right you are."
Thinking about Miss Tonks, he felt a pang of longing in his heart. He'd made his first real friend, one that knew he was a freak and had stayed anyway. He'd been the happiest he could ever remember. It almost felt as what he imagined being able to fly would feel like, being able to soar free among the clouds with no chain to tether him to the ground. It'd felt so good, to have someone look at him and not be repulsed at the sight as Ma'am always was.
He desperately wanted a friend, he'd given up long ago wishing for a family that loved him, but one friend… one real friend… just one… one that sort of liked him, or at least didn't thoroughly hate him… that wasn't too terribly greedy… was it? Surely, it wasn't too much to wish for - even for a slave.
Only then Miss Tonks had found out that he wasn't only a freak, she found out what he really was, and he'd lost his friend. The look of utter horror that he saw on her face, when she said the word 'slave', told him all he needed to know. It made him feel lower than dirt. The cloud of euphoria he'd been riding on evaporated in that instance and he plummeted to earth. Then to make matters worse, it was his fault, Master had hurt her. Even if she didn't want to be his friend anymore, he still wanted to be hers.
Nevertheless, as Master dragged him inside, he'd said, 'Don't you know that slaves aren't allowed to have friends?' Boy hadn't known it. He'd suspected it of course, but Master had never actually said that it was a rule. But now that he had, Boy knew that he'd never be allowed to have another. He almost wished that Miss Tonks had never tried to be his friend to begin with, because then he wouldn't know how much he was missing by not having one. Now that he knew, it felt as if a big hole had been punched in his heart. He felt as bad as he had when he thought that The Hundred Acre Woods had burned.
"So what do you say Boy?"
"Th-thank you Master for reminding me of my place."
Master was right. He didn't deserve to be loved because he was a nothing, and would never be a something. He didn't deserve a friend if he couldn't take care of them and protect them. Master was right to remind him. He'd started to forget.
"See Pet? I told you I could teach him. He's a slow learner, but he does get it eventually if you keep pounding it into him. Just as Marge says about breaking animals, you just have to train them with a firm and unyielding hand. Now Boy, I hope you were paying close attention during your last lesson. If you did, and if you're not a complete moron, you should be able to read this list of chores I made up for you and I won't have to waste my time drilling them into your stupid head. You have until Marge wakes up to finish them or there'll be hell to pay. And if you try to avoid any more punishments, it'll be ten times worse. I can promise you that."
Master dropped a long handwritten list on the floor in front of the trembling boy.
Boy knew that he couldn't read the list. Even if he had his father's glasses on, and could see the words, he knew that he wouldn't know what they said. And as much as he'd always wanted to learn to read, he'd be happy to never learn how, if master's lessons were the only way he had to learn it.
"Vernon, be reasonable! You said yourself that he had limited mental capacity. I don't care how brilliant your teaching methods are, there's no way you could've taught him how to read overnight. Besides, you broke his glasses. How do you expect him to see it to read it? It was one thing to give him those old glasses from the junk drawer, but I'm certainly not going to squander any of my household money buying him a new pair. Are you?"
"Of course not! I'm not buying him anything. That'd be a waste of money and I'm forced to waste enough on that waste of space as it is. However, I think you underestimate me, oh ye of little faith. I did teach him. And I'll prove it… kneel Boy."
Boy dropped in place to the cold tile floor, and knelt as ordered before Master, keeping his head bowed.
"Spell your new name Boy - NOW," Master demanded in a low threatening growl.
Boy tried to resist, it was such a hateful name and he felt ashamed when he even thought it, let alone if he had to spell it aloud. But as the collar started to tighten again at his disobedience, he slowly started to repeat the letters Master had carved into him.
"… 'w'… 'h'…"
"Morning Mum! Morning Dad! So what's going on?" Dudley asked brightly as he came into the kitchen for breakfast, stepping over the chain as he went as if it were a normal thing to be stretched across the kitchen floor. He scooped up the list of chores as he passed by. Ending his travels, he plopped heavily in a chair that protested with a groan under his weight.
"Where's my French toast and bacon? I'm hungry!"
"Coming right up Diddydums," Ma'am crooned as she immediately started fawning over Cousin. "Enough showing off the freak and get back to work! You heard Dudley. My precious is hungry. Don't you know by now that you should have his breakfast on the table the moment he comes in?" Ma'am scolded. "He has a delicate constitution and can't be kept waiting, even a second."
"Yes Ma'am. Right away, Ma'am."
Relieved to be doing something else, Boy got up and poured Cousin some cereal, to hold him until the rest was cooked, then went back to the stove.
Sometimes Cousin had impeccable timing, but this time it wasn't so great. While Boy had been 'reciting' for Master, the toast and bacon he'd started earlier, had begun to burn. Boy carefully scraped them down the garbage disposal, under Ma'am's watchful eye, so she could be sure that he didn't dare sneak any for himself, and started fresh. Master responded by declaring that there would again be no food for him, since he'd wasted so much by burning breakfast on purpose. Only this time the sentence failed to faze him.
'That's okay, I'm not hungry,' he thought. Usually he had to pretend and try to convince himself of that statement when he thought it, but this morning it was true enough. He was still full from the chips and burger that Miss Tonks brought him in the garden.
'Oh! That's one more thing for which I'm VERY grateful. I have an apple and a half and I still have some water in my pitcher for later while The Family's at the Fête!' Boy smiled to himself at his bountiful blessings, and for once his satisfied stomach didn't roil at the thought of not receiving food.
"What're you smiling at?" Master glowered over his heaping plate of eggs and fried potatoes. Whatever it was that was causing it, he was going to make sure he took it away immediately.
"Oh no! Master wants me to answer him! What can I say?'
"Er… that Ma'am will be happy when she receive her prize today," Boy covered quickly for his mistake. It wasn't exactly lying and the statement was true enough. Ma'am would be happy, and he was thinking about the Fête - sort of - just not really the two together.
"Right you are," Vernon begrudgingly nodded, dissatisfied there was nothing new over which to punish his slave. "Speaking of which, we should run down the timetable again. At twelve o'clock sharp where will you be Petunia?"
"On the front porch where I'll demurely receive my just reward for all my hard work."
"Excellent. And you Dudders?"
"I'll be waiting at the arbour to greet the guests. 'Welcome to our garden, please do come in.'," Dudley made an elaborate bow to his cereal bowl.
"You'll be wearing…?" his father prompted him.
"My new Smelting knickers and tails," Dudley slumped down in his chair to show his displeasure.
Boy tried not to snicker at the look on Cousin's face.
"And…?" his mother prompted.
"And my boater… but I'll get to carry my Smelting stick too! Don't I?"
"Of course Duddykins! You'll look so precious! The perfect little gentleman. So dashing," Petunia exclaimed proudly clasping her hands together in rapture.
"And what about you Boy? Where will you be?" Vernon turned so suddenly he almost caught another smile where it didn't belong.
"Er… I'll be locked in my cupboard, making no sound, and pretending I don't exist," Boy recited dutifully, outwardly downcast, but inwardly thinking about that lovely pitcher of water and apples awaiting him.
"Oh, so true," Master said nastily and stuffed his mouth with sausages.
Master's words didn't bother him today, but what did send tremors of terror through him was something that Ma'am said as he placed the overflowing plate of French toast in front of Cousin.
"Vernon. I just thought of something else. If the little freak let someone into the garden last night, then that means someone saw him. Doesn't that mean…?"
'Oh no! If Miss Tonks was wrong about it being okay because she wasn't a neighbour, then that means I broke the rule about not being seen! That would mean that they'll take me off to prison for murder!' Boy's hand trembled as he sat a pitcher of fresh squeezed orange juice on the table in front of Cousin.
"Hey! Watch it freak!" Cousin yelled out.
The pitcher was shaking so hard, as Boy put it down, that it would've toppled over, spilling its contents entirely, if Cousin hadn't grabbed hold suddenly and righted it. As it was, it still sloshed juice all over the list of chores that Cousin had picked up and dropped on the table. Boy murmured profuse apologies to Cousin for his clumsiness as he wiped up the tabletop, carefully avoiding touching the list, as if by doing so he could deny all knowledge of its existence. Cousin gave Boy a hard look and a flash of understanding came to his eyes as the real meaning of the list, and the meaning of the scene he walked in on, started to sink in.
Dudley's eyes narrowed to little slits as he scowled hard at the back of the paper in front of his Dad's face. His father was playing another one of his sick 'games' with his little cousin again. He hated it when his Dad did that, and this time he was particularly ticked off about it. He'd started the day in such a good mood too!
His parents had decided last night, that the trouble he'd gotten into with his friends was all a mistake that they could easily clear up. They declared that he and his gang were just a bunch of 'misunderstood high spirited creative intelligent children', and that he wasn't the 'hardened delinquent' the policemen accused him of being.
That settled, they'd invited all his friends to come over during the Garden Fête to play with him. This way he wouldn't get bored, as high spirited creative intelligent children were apt to get, if not kept entertained. It was only when bored that they got into situations where they could be 'misunderstood'. With Boy catering, Dudley was positive they were sure to have the best spread of all the gardens entered. He'd been looking forward to it all night! And now his Dad was going to ruin it for him.
He could see that this was a list of chores intended for Boy to do, and he didn't need to be a genius to figure out that his Dad expected Boy to read it, as he'd never written Boy a list of chores before. That was probably what all the 'spelling' was about when he walked in earlier.
When Boy isn't able to read the list and doesn't do what's on it, his Dad will probably beat him again. And if his Dad beats him, he won't be in any shape to bake those killer biscuits Dudley had promised his friends. It wasn't Boy's fault he couldn't read. It was his Dad's fault. Dudley had tried to take Boy to school with him, and his Dad wouldn't let him go. Dudley didn't think it was fair of his Dad to punish Boy for it now.
"Do you mean that freak prison with the 'soul sucking' demons?" Vernon snorted derisively. "Ha! I doubt it! As if something like that could even exist. A bunch of codswallop in my opinion."
"But I'm sure it does! They said…"
"Don't you worry your pretty head over it my dear. After tomorrow, it won't be our worry anyway. But if the place does exist, then you're probably right about that, and that's where they'll dump him. If they do, then they're welcome to suck it out of him. On the other hand, if it doesn't exist, well then… ahem… 'Dumbledore' can suck it out of him instead, or vice versa, if you know what I mean. I really don't care what they do to him, as long as I get my money as promised," Vernon declared as he went back to reading his paper.
'Master might not send me to prison? Maybe Miss Tonks was right about the rule after all. If she was right about that - than maybe she was also right about…'
Boy's heart leapt into his throat as he turned back to the stove to begin browning another stack of French toast.
'… NO! Stop thinking about it! It won't do any good. Miss Tonks is gone and she won't be coming back now that she knows I'm a slave. What I need to think about, is what I need to do now. And what I need to do now, is to get through Master's list of chores. What I need to do is what Roo keeps telling me to do - think positive.'
Each time he turned the bacon, he thought as positive a thought that he could.
'Maybe… if I just do the chores I'd normally do, like the laundry and ironing, I might get most of the list right. It's worth a try anyway. Maybe… if Master's happy enough with me, he might give me another chance and not sell me to Dumbledore. Maybe… if he changes his mind, and I do whatever he wants me to do with his customers, I'll make the money to pay back my debt and not a burden to The Family any longer.'
"What's this list for?" Dudley interrupted his thoughts, prodding the damp paper with a sticky finger. "Sweep out the chimney, wash the walls, strip and re-wax the hall floor, polish the marble foyer, wash and re-hang all the drapes, restack the boxes in the cellar… DAD! This isn't fair! This list is humongous! It goes on forever! It's too much!"
Startled, Boy shot Cousin an amazed and grateful look. As none of the things he'd listed were one of Boy's normal chores, he wouldn't have guessed even one right. Still, knowing what they are and finishing them were two different things. He didn't have a prayer in that regard. Nevertheless, at least now he knew what Master wanted done.
"Don't complain Dudley, it's not becoming of a Dursley," his father looked at him sternly over the top edge of the newspaper. "Besides, it's the freaks list of chores, not yours."
"But that's what I mean Dad!" Dudley whinged in his whiniest tone. "The freak was supposed to make a spread for the Garden Fête today and it's not on this list anywhere! With all this other stuff to do, he won't have time! Each one of these things will take hours and hours and hours! Mum promised me cakes today since I have to dress up in a suit! It's just not fair! My friends are all coming over and I promised them chocolate chip biscuits!"
Dudley pounded his pudgy fists on the table as he pouted, catching the edge of his plate and sending its contents flipping into the air to land with a sticky 'thwack', upside-down on his mother's head.
"ARRRGHHH! You made him do that you freak! I saw you looking at him! You just don't want my Garden Fête to be a success! You just want to be locked up, where you can lay about all day and do nothing to help!" Ma'am screamed at Boy, with syrup dripping off her long sharp nose. Wiping at the gooey mess caused the majority of it to drop onto the floor, splattering and ruining the new expensive shoes that she'd bought just for today's party.
"Just for that you can forget that list. You'll stay in this kitchen and cook until I say differently! You'll not eat a bite yourself, and you'll drink no more water today. You'll make cakes, and you'll make pies, and you'll make tarts, and you'll make sandwiches, and canapé's and hors d'oeuvres, and you'll make…"
"BISCUITS! Don't forget the biscuits! Lots of them! Chocolate Chip!" Cousin piped up, grinning from ear to ear.
"Yes, and biscuits. Lots and lots of biscuits," Ma'am said coldly. She snatched Master's list of chores out of Cousin's hands and ripped it to small bits, letting them float to the floor to land like powdered sugar on top of the ruined toast.
"And they'd better be my finest biscuits! I've a reputation to uphold. And clean up that mess," she finished as she stomped out of the room and upstairs to wash her hair and change her clothes.
After refilling Cousin's plate, Boy shyly sent him one more grateful glance before he started pulling out baking sheets and pans. He'd make ALL of Cousin's favourites! It'll be hard to cook with his injured hand and cracked ribs, but at least it wouldn't be as difficult as it would've been to do all the strenuous chores that Master had lined up for him.
He didn't know why, but Cousin actually seemed to be helping him this morning. He was even nice and complimented him on how the Garden looked. Cousin had never said anything like that to him before. Cousin even stayed on hand to taste each dish to make sure it was perfect, since Boy wasn't allowed.
It could have been that Cousin wanted to be sure the food was done just right for his mother's party, or possibly because he was bored since his friends hadn't come to play yet. But whatever the reason, he kept Boy company all morning, busily tasting and then toting the dishes out to the buffet table as each pastry or platter was finished.
Boy had kept the double ovens busy for several hours while all sorts of tempting sweets were created, filling the air with their mouth watering aromas. The baked goods were followed quickly by trays of luscious appetizers, mounds of enticing sandwiches, and massive bowls of iced punch. If the stomachs of the judges could sway the voting, then Ma'am should be a shoe in for the most beautiful garden again, based on the sumptuous spread alone even if all the flower beds were to be bare and brown.
By the time Cousin carried the last dish out the back door to the lavish table, Boy was drained. After drying and putting away the last pan, he made sure the kitchen was again spotless and sterile before leaning tiredly against the counter. He felt hot and sticky after cooking all morning, and the kitchen was as hot as the inside of one of the ovens. He would have loved to crack open the window to feel a breeze, but he wasn't permitted to have the windows open in any room he was in.
Master had installed special glass in all the windows so that the neighbours couldn't see in and inadvertently spot him, and Ma'am always kept the drapes and curtains tightly closed, 'just in case' the special glass didn't work she said. Since the special glass and heavy drapes were for Boy's 'protection', Master had added the exorbitant cost of this renovation and redecorating to his debt as well, another thing for which Boy wasn't as grateful as he should be.
Fanning himself with the damp dishrag, Boy tried to swallow, but his throat was parched and dry. He thought of the pitcher in his cupboard with regret. It still had a little water in it, only Ma'am had now forbidden him from drinking any more water today. Even if she wouldn't know if he took a small sip, the collar would. Boy tried to lessen the craving by sucking on the damp rag, but in the end, the pain from his throbbing hand was the only thing that took his mind off his thirst.
Contemplating his hand, he thought again about Miss Tonks. She'd told him she had what she called a 'potion' in her bag that'd fix his hand. Rabbit called medicines 'potions' too. Undoing the length of rope that held up his oversized jeans, Boy pulled the little bag out of the waistband and cautiously felt inside it.
There seemed to be no end to the bag and he could feel bottles of all sorts and sizes as well as a bunch of other things that he couldn't even begin to guess at what they were. Some were soft and squishy, and some were hard with edges. And one warm fuzzy object licked his hand causing him to pull it back out of the bag with a start.
Before he could explore the bag any further, Boy heard grunts and groans from upstairs. Miss was waking up and he was trapped in the open kitchen, exposed with nowhere to hide! The end of his chain was locked around the arm of Master's chair and that certainly wouldn't fit through his cupboard door.
Stuffing the little cloth bag back into the waistband of his jeans to conceal it, Boy had no choice but to wait in trepidation. His only hope was if Master or Ma'am came back in time. It was with a sigh of relief that he heard Ma'am's rapid footsteps in the hallway on her way to the kitchen to check up on his work. Ma'am barged into the room looking somewhat like one of Cousin's space alien comic book characters with her hair all wound up on large florescent plastic cylinders held in place by spiky metal clips.
"It's about time you were done, you lazy good for nothing! Marge is getting up." Without even looking at him, Ma'am unlocked the end of the chain and pulled it out the door and down the hall, securing the end to the eyebolt on the back of the cupboard door, where the chain usually hung when not in use. Then she stood there with her hands on her hips and glared back at Boy who was just standing in the kitchen doorway not moving.
Ma'am hadn't told him he could leave the kitchen yet, and she'd ordered him to stay in there until she said he could leave. He wasn't going to be tricked that easily into doing something wrong again!
"Well? What're you waiting for you little freak? An engraved invitation? Get in the cupboard!" she ordered, taking a couple of steps backwards as she recoiled from the stale stench wafting out of the closed-in space.
Thankful for an order to follow, Boy gathered up the length of chain as he scooted quickly back inside his little cupboard. Boy was just glad that he'd concealed Miss Tonk's little bag before Ma'am saw it. He was sure that if Ma'am had caught him with it, that she'd have taken it away. It wasn't a gift like the amulet, but it also wasn't as if he stole it, he reasoned. It was an accident that he'd ended up with it, and now he was just safeguarding it. He knew it wasn't his to keep, so he wasn't breaking the 'slaves can't own anything' rule. If he ever saw Miss Tonks again, he intended to return it to her promptly.
At the sound of more groaning, Boy moved to press against the back wall of the cupboard, and as far away from the door as he could get, making the spiders he shared the space with scatter to get out of his way. The sounds he'd heard from above were the sounds of Miss waking up. He was glad Ma'am had locked him back up in time. He knew that it was much better to be in his cupboard, than to be caught 'outside' when Miss was in the house and awake. One time he hadn't made it back in time and had to spend several hours hiding, curled up underneath Master's overstuffed chair with Master kicking him continually with the heel of his boot, and a sharp metal spring poking down into his side. It'd been most uncomfortable, and he had to hold his breath for long periods of time so he wouldn't be heard breathing. And while his cupboard was small, it was much larger than the space beneath Master's chair.
"Vernon! Help me!" he could hear Miss yelling in distress from the staircase above him, with Ripper growling and barking in her arms as the dog struggled to get loose from her iron grip.
"WHAT IS IT MARGE?" Master yelled back in exasperation. "IF YOU NEED SOMETHING COME DOWN HERE!"
"But I can't Vernon!" Miss wailed as Ripper jumped out of her arms and ran up and down the stairs barking like a thing possessed. "Every time I try to go down the stairs, I end up back at the top! What's going on? Is your house haunted? Do you have ghosts?"
"That's ridiculous! There's no such thing as ghosts Marge! I'll just bring you down myself," Master said as Ripper ran around and around in circles, nipping at his feet, before stopping to growl and scratch at the stairs again.
"Be careful Vernon!" Miss cried out as her brother started toward the stairs.
"Nonsense, woman. There's nothing to be careful about. You're hallucinating. You must've overdosed on sleeping pills. These are perfectly normal stairs, in a perfectly normal house. They're the same normal ones you went up last night," Master huffed as he started towards the steps just to be propelled violently backwards as he came within a meter of the bottom one, landing on his rear near the front door with a loud thud.
"PETUNIA!" he howled.
"What is it Vernon? I'm busy!" Ma'am poked her curlered head out of the kitchen door as she waived her newly repainted wet nails in the air to dry them.
"Petunia! Get out here now! IT's acting freaky again!"
Master and Ma'am always referred to Boy as 'It' if they had to discuss him while Miss was in the house and could possibly hear. Boy supposed this was to guard the secret that he existed and thus protect him from being discovered and sent to prison. He also supposed that being called It should make him feel grateful that The Family cared enough about him to do so, but somehow the way they spit out the word he really didn't think that was the reason.
"Don't blame me! It's not my fault if IT's acting up. You deal with IT. You're the one that brought IT in the house to begin with. I was for just leaving IT in the rubbish bin at the curb. But no, you said that all the neighbours were watching and insisted we had to. So it's your fault if it's acting up now, take care of IT yourself. I wash my hands of the whole matter."
"Marge! Go back to your bedroom! I need to take care of something!"
"But I'm hungry Vernon!"
"I'll send Dudders up with a tray," Master growled in a tone that didn't invite discussion.
"Send something up for Rippy-poo too."
"Very well Marge. Just get back in your room! AND. SHUT. THE. DOOR!" Master yelled.
"Well I never! This is no way to treat your sister! See if I come to help out next time Petunia calls," Miss said in a huff slamming the guest room door behind her.
Almost immediately, Master ripped open the door to the little cupboard causing Boy to try and make himself as small as possible. Master's huge frame blocked the entire doorway, but the light from the hall lit up his livid face.
"WHAT'VE YOU DONE TO MY SISTER?" Master spat out.
Boy flattened himself harder against the wall. Even though he'd never seen Master ask a question so angrily, he kept his mouth shut. Not only did he not have an answer, he didn't think Master really wanted him to, as Master already seemed to think he knew.
"YOU'VE CONTAMINATED HER WITH YOUR FREAKISHNESS! HAVEN'T YOU?"
Boy still said nothing. He knew he hadn't done anything to Miss, but it wouldn't help to deny it. Master would only accuse him of lying and punish him for that. On the other hand, if he said that he'd done something, well then he really would be lying and that'd be breaking another one of Master's rules. But not answering a direct question at all was still breaking a rule. He couldn't win no matter what he did or didn't do. But it didn't matter anyway, if anything went wrong, it was always his fault. That was the ultimate hard and fast rule. And from all the yelling, things must've gone very, very, wrong.
"Get out here and get into position for punishment! NOW!" Master yelled at him.
Unlocking the end of the chain from the eyebolt, Master pulled him out without even giving him a chance to respond and come out on his own. As soon as he could, Boy got on his hands and knees as ordered and waited. Ever since Master had forced Boy back into the house after his night in the Garden, both he and Ma'am had been keeping their distance, so it caught him by surprise when he felt the end of the chain rip into his back. Boy bit his lip to stifle his cries of pain while the rough links ripped his ragged clothes to ribbons as Master failed on him.
"THIS is for avoiding punishment earlier… THWACK… THIS is for letting someone onto my property without my permission… THWACK… THIS is for trying to make a friend… THWACK… THIS is for contaminating my sister… THWACK… and THIS is for spoiling my breakfast… THWACK… and THIS is for ruining my wife's new hairdo that cost me one hundred pound… THWACK… Master continued to enumerate the list of sins Boy had committed that morning with each strike. His angry voice keeping Boy's consciousness linked to the here-and-now, unable to escape into the safety of his mind. Finally satisfied with the results, Master relocked the end of the bloodied chain back to the eyebolt and laughed.
"I don't know how you did it earlier, but you thought you could avoid what you deserved didn't you Boy?"
"No… no Master, I-I didn't," Boy gasped out.
"The bloody hell you didn't - you can't fool me. I've been thinking, you may have stopped me from hitting you with my fist, and my belt, but I could still drag you around by the chain. It stood to reason I could reach you with it too. I don't know how you're stopping anyone from getting within a meter of you but you will cease resisting punishment immediately!"
Boy nodded even though he didn't know how to stop it, as he didn't know how he'd started it to begin with.
"You better. As you can see, I can make it ten times worse for you if you don't. Remember Boy, you can't outsmart me. I am your Master and you're too stupid to think on your own. No matter what you do, you'll never get away from me, and if you try, I'll make you wish you were dead. It'll be easier on you if you cooperate. Why, I'll even make sure you enjoy it. Now get back in the cupboard and think about that for a while," Master laughed cruelly as he watched his little slave drag himself back into the dark hole under the stairs, dutifully mopping up his blood the best he could and gathering up the rest of the long length of chain as he went.
Once Boy was back inside, Master glowered at him from the little doorway. "Did you learn your lesson this time?" he demanded.
"Yes, Master… very well," Boy replied subdued.
"It's about time. I was beginning to think you were too stupid to get it," Master sneered, slamming the little door before bending down and hissing though it. "Remember Boy - I am your Master and you will obey me. You'll to do everything any of your betters tell you to. And everyone, and everything for that matter, is better than you are. There's nothing lower than a slave. So if Ripper wants a hole dug for a bone, you'll dig it for him. If Marge wants to come downstairs, you'll NOT prevent her. Your better's every wish is your command. You are nothing."
Boy wiped at his eye with the sleeve of his tattered shirt. The chain had hurt, but not nearly as much as it hurt to be a nothing.
"You've been such a bad slave that I just may sell you to a new master. One who isn't as kind and generous or as forgiving as I am. I'd almost changed my mind on the matter, but perhaps I'll sell you to 'Dumbledore' after all. If I do, I'll make a point of being sure that he knows just how bad you really are so he can punish you appropriately. I'll give you until the end of the Fête to change that freakish attitude of yours and make me happy once and for all… OR ELSE."
After Master locked him in his cupboard and left, Boy did think about all he'd learned, just as Master had ordered him too. He knew that he had to do something, or he'd never be able to make Master happy, and then Master would sell him to Dumbledore. He had to do everything he could do to prevent that from happening!
Boy felt in Miss Tonks' little cloth bag and found the medicine bottles he'd touched earlier. Ma'am had said he couldn't drink any water today, but she didn't say anything about not drinking medicines. In his desperation, Boy took them all.
He knew he probably shouldn't have taken so much, or so many for that matter, but his hand was making it difficult to do almost everything, and he really didn't know which bottle contained the potion that Miss Tonks had said would fix it. After all the cookery he'd done that morning, his hand was even worse than before. He'd used his forearm to hold things as much as he could, but it was clumsy and took more time. In addition, he hadn't been able to bend his fingers for two days now, and his wrist had started to grow stiff as well.
Laying lay down on his side on the rough wood plank floor Boy pulled his knees up to his chest. He'd wanted to try the creams and salves too, but right now, his stomach was feeling slightly ill at all the medications he'd drunk, and all of his limbs felt as if they were full of splinters trying to push their way out. The pains in his hand and ribs were the most intense, but everywhere else hurt too. As the pain grew unbearable, he mercifully started to pass out. Even Dudley thumping loudly up the stairs above his head, as he carried a heavy tray to Miss, barely managed to penetrate his subconscious.
As Boy tried to find a comfortable position, he thought more about what Master said. Master would probably rewrite that list Ma'am tore up earlier. If he couldn't even do one chore, Master would think he wasn't trying to be a good slave, and would do the 'OR ELSE'.
Boy shuddered at what he knew that would mean. With the Garden Fête over, there'd be no reason for Master to stake him outside, and Ma'am wouldn't intervene again. So Master would have all night to teach him another 'lesson'. Taking the medications was all he could do to help himself. If they worked, and if nothing else went wrong, he might have a slim chance of surviving through another night. Then at least he'd have the opportunity to try to think of another way to make Master happy.
"Vernon! You've let IT leave a mess in the hall again. And now I suppose you expect ME to clean it up…" Ma'am's complaining voice was the last thing Boy heard as he drifted off in a heavily drugged induced sleep.
'Rabbit? Where are you? I think I need help… I think maybe I shouldn't have taken so much…'
'… Roo is that you?'