CH6: Exhausted (Part 1)
A few days had passed since Harry had received the letters from Hermione and Sirius. He still hadn't replied, and he didn't plan to. Apparently, they had not got the message as he had received two more earlier that morning.
Harry had got excited when the letters arrived, he had hoped they would be his reply from the apothecary, the letters from his friends were added to the pile on his desk.
The last few days for Harry had been hell on earth, there had been no new incidents with Vernon, but Harry was beyond exhausted.
The day after the letters, Harry was let out to continue his chores as normal. He wondered if his aunt knew what Vernon had done, but if she did she gave no inclination of what she thought about it, Harry wondered if his aunt would be okay with what Vernon had done. Harry knew his aunt disliked him but he was her blood?
Since being allowed out of his room, Harry had been struggling to complete his chores, he was just far too exhausted to keep up with the long list he was presented with each morning, he often found himself getting dizzy and his vision getting blurry.
Harry tried his best, working as fast as he could all day, dreading 6 o'clock when Uncle Vernon would walk through the door and declare Harry's efforts were abysmal and he wouldn't be allowed any food that night. Harry had resorted to stealing some scraps off the Dursley's plates as he cleared them from the table to get by, and of course he had the cookies Mrs Weasley had sent him.
Harry now hadn't slept properly in nearly a week, he had been forcing himself to hold out until his reply from the apothecary, it still hadn't arrived. So Harry had spent his days working himself to the bone, and his nights trying desperately to keep himself awake.
The nights were like torture, stuck with only his own thoughts to keep himself company for hours on end, Harry found his mind wandering to very dark places.
Harry spent hours inside his own head, remembering the past, remembering all the pain he had suffered in his fourteen years.
He often wondered- why him?
Why was it always him at the centre and a target for everything? Voldemort had tried to kill him multiple times, he had killed his parents and made him an orphan at age one, he had spent years being bullied and belittled in a home with people who didn't want him, He had watched his friend die right in front of him after being entered in a dangerous competition by a deranged death eater.
Harry often thought of what his life would be like if Voldemort hadn't tried to kill him when he was a baby, if he hadn't killed his parents. Those thoughts made him smile sadly, he imagined a life with filled with love and happiness. He would picture special occasions such as birthdays and Christmas, the family traditions and the love and kindness which would pour out through the day, with visits from Sirius and Remus of course.
But these were just thoughts, Harry felt a pain in his chest when he thought about what could have been- and wasn't.
Harry had never been so depressed in his life, and as he became more tired, the worse the thoughts got, he started to wonder what the point of it all was – wouldn't it be easier if he was simply gone, he could save Voldemort a job.
There were so many things uncertain and only one real fact, Harry was getting desperate.