A/N: Moonshifter11, here's another chapter! ^_^
Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling. I do not own any of the below mentioned characters.
Reviews: Widely welcome. This includes constructive criticism.
When Harry awoke it was past lunch time, according to alarm clock on his desk, and puzzled he wondered why the Durseley's hadn't awoken him yet. He was usually responsible for cooking lunch. It was then that he remembered the events of the morning and realized that both the scar on his forehead and injured leg were throbbing.
Instinctively, he leapt from his bed to write to Dumbledore to tell him of the sudden pain. There were two problems with this, though. First of all, Hedwig still hadn't returned and he had no way to send the letter he wished to write, and secondly his leg would not support him as he reached the floor. For the second time that day, he lay on the floor in pain. This time, however, he was not alone.
Dudley was standing at the door.
"What happened to you?" he asked in his usual tone, only with a bit more taunting because of Harry's situation.
"I hurt myself.." He faltered, then looked at the remains of the chair to his left "..falling off that ruddy chair."
Dudley laughed, his pink face turning an amusing shade of purple and the floor beginning to shake. This signaled for his mother, Aunt Petunia, to hurry up the stairs.
"Duddykins, are you all.." She stopped, her face turning white as she stared down at Harry from his bedroom doorway. "What happened to you?"
Dudley found the strength to point to the remains of the chair before leaning up against the door frame and falling as it began to break away from the door. With a thunderous shake of the ground, Harry's limp body jumped a little and Aunt Petunia sighed disapprovingly. "We'll have to get you to the hospital, then. I'll call Vernon."
Harry wanted to plead with her not to, he knew how angry his Uncle Vernon would get at having to drive Harry, of all people, to the hospital, but the pain was too much.
Aunt Petunia faltered down the stairs, removing the crisp white iron from around the waist of her yellow cocktail dress with Dudley thundering behind her, not before whispering "Boy, will Dad have your neck for this!" from Harry's doorway.
"I'm doomed," He muttered, attempting to bury his face in the cold wooden floor.
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"Those god damned things," Said Uncle Vernon, referring to Harry's crutches in the back seat, "Cost more a few pounds, and what in bloody hell for? TWO STICKS OF WOOD?"
Vernon's face was turning a shade of red, and his hands clutching the steering wheel were rapidly turning white. He turned his head while stopped at a red light, and looked back at Harry, sitting on the other side of his crutches and Cousin Dudley. "How do you manage to get yourself so bloodied up in that room of yours?"
The doctor had also found the new scar on Harry's side, and it was now accompanied by stitches and a tight bandage. Harry looked down at the bandage on his leg and muttered, "It was that ruddy chair."
Uncle Vernon was fuming and about to comment further when the sudden beep of a car horn informed him on the changing light and he sped off, his foot pressed firmly on the gas pedal.
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After receiving two speeding tickets from patrol officers, who returned quite shaken up to their cars after dealing with the heavy set man, the Durseley's and Harry finally returned to number seven, Privet Drive.
Awkwardly, Harry hopped out of the car, pulling his crutches form the back seat while standing on one foot. While Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon entered the house, Dudley remained on the doorstep, taunting Harry.
"You're a cripple now. It'd be much easier to push you down the stairs."
"My wand hand still works," Harry muttered darkly, loud enough for Dudley to hear. "I could still curse you." Finally resting on his crutches, Harry shut the car door and made his way to the step, wincing as right crutch grazed his side.
"Y- you can't." Although Dudley was remarkably sure of his last words, he faltered and was successfully scared.
He tripped over the last step and lay sprawled over the cement bawling. His mother rushed out and, unable to take the large boy in her arms, hugged him around his neck and tried to comfort him with soothing words. Uncle Vernon stood behind her, glaring at Harry.
"Oh boy," Harry thought, teetering around his cousin and aunt on the doorstep and sidestepping his uncle in the doorway. "The rest of my summer isn't going to be great."
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True to his prediction, the remainder of his holidays were anything but great. Dudley had pushed him down the stairs a few times when he had his crutches (Thankfully, he no longer needed his crutches, although his leg was still sore. He wouldn't have wanted to see Draco's sneering face on the train if he had dared to come with crutches, it was enough to give Harry a week of nightmares. Not that he needed any new ones), he'd been punished half a dozen times for things he'd never done, and found a new cut on his right shoulder. He'd received several more letters from Ron and Hermoine, even one from Hagrid, and without Hedwig returning he'd sent all replies back with the owl they'd come with. Because of this, he hadn't yet owled Dumbledore about his scar.
Sirius hadn't sent a letter back yet, and it worried him even more than his hurting scar and missing owl. Harry was certainly happy when he received a letter from Ron on the last week of vacation, informing him that they'd be arriving later that day and going to Diagon Alley for their needed school supplies.
More and more frequently he was waking with his robes on and injuries throbbing. He couldn't figure out what was going on. Both Hermoine and Ron thought he was just sleep walking, but the throbbing of his scar told him otherwise.
If only Sirius would owl him so he could ask what he thought.
Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling. I do not own any of the below mentioned characters.
Reviews: Widely welcome. This includes constructive criticism.
When Harry awoke it was past lunch time, according to alarm clock on his desk, and puzzled he wondered why the Durseley's hadn't awoken him yet. He was usually responsible for cooking lunch. It was then that he remembered the events of the morning and realized that both the scar on his forehead and injured leg were throbbing.
Instinctively, he leapt from his bed to write to Dumbledore to tell him of the sudden pain. There were two problems with this, though. First of all, Hedwig still hadn't returned and he had no way to send the letter he wished to write, and secondly his leg would not support him as he reached the floor. For the second time that day, he lay on the floor in pain. This time, however, he was not alone.
Dudley was standing at the door.
"What happened to you?" he asked in his usual tone, only with a bit more taunting because of Harry's situation.
"I hurt myself.." He faltered, then looked at the remains of the chair to his left "..falling off that ruddy chair."
Dudley laughed, his pink face turning an amusing shade of purple and the floor beginning to shake. This signaled for his mother, Aunt Petunia, to hurry up the stairs.
"Duddykins, are you all.." She stopped, her face turning white as she stared down at Harry from his bedroom doorway. "What happened to you?"
Dudley found the strength to point to the remains of the chair before leaning up against the door frame and falling as it began to break away from the door. With a thunderous shake of the ground, Harry's limp body jumped a little and Aunt Petunia sighed disapprovingly. "We'll have to get you to the hospital, then. I'll call Vernon."
Harry wanted to plead with her not to, he knew how angry his Uncle Vernon would get at having to drive Harry, of all people, to the hospital, but the pain was too much.
Aunt Petunia faltered down the stairs, removing the crisp white iron from around the waist of her yellow cocktail dress with Dudley thundering behind her, not before whispering "Boy, will Dad have your neck for this!" from Harry's doorway.
"I'm doomed," He muttered, attempting to bury his face in the cold wooden floor.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Those god damned things," Said Uncle Vernon, referring to Harry's crutches in the back seat, "Cost more a few pounds, and what in bloody hell for? TWO STICKS OF WOOD?"
Vernon's face was turning a shade of red, and his hands clutching the steering wheel were rapidly turning white. He turned his head while stopped at a red light, and looked back at Harry, sitting on the other side of his crutches and Cousin Dudley. "How do you manage to get yourself so bloodied up in that room of yours?"
The doctor had also found the new scar on Harry's side, and it was now accompanied by stitches and a tight bandage. Harry looked down at the bandage on his leg and muttered, "It was that ruddy chair."
Uncle Vernon was fuming and about to comment further when the sudden beep of a car horn informed him on the changing light and he sped off, his foot pressed firmly on the gas pedal.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
After receiving two speeding tickets from patrol officers, who returned quite shaken up to their cars after dealing with the heavy set man, the Durseley's and Harry finally returned to number seven, Privet Drive.
Awkwardly, Harry hopped out of the car, pulling his crutches form the back seat while standing on one foot. While Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon entered the house, Dudley remained on the doorstep, taunting Harry.
"You're a cripple now. It'd be much easier to push you down the stairs."
"My wand hand still works," Harry muttered darkly, loud enough for Dudley to hear. "I could still curse you." Finally resting on his crutches, Harry shut the car door and made his way to the step, wincing as right crutch grazed his side.
"Y- you can't." Although Dudley was remarkably sure of his last words, he faltered and was successfully scared.
He tripped over the last step and lay sprawled over the cement bawling. His mother rushed out and, unable to take the large boy in her arms, hugged him around his neck and tried to comfort him with soothing words. Uncle Vernon stood behind her, glaring at Harry.
"Oh boy," Harry thought, teetering around his cousin and aunt on the doorstep and sidestepping his uncle in the doorway. "The rest of my summer isn't going to be great."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
True to his prediction, the remainder of his holidays were anything but great. Dudley had pushed him down the stairs a few times when he had his crutches (Thankfully, he no longer needed his crutches, although his leg was still sore. He wouldn't have wanted to see Draco's sneering face on the train if he had dared to come with crutches, it was enough to give Harry a week of nightmares. Not that he needed any new ones), he'd been punished half a dozen times for things he'd never done, and found a new cut on his right shoulder. He'd received several more letters from Ron and Hermoine, even one from Hagrid, and without Hedwig returning he'd sent all replies back with the owl they'd come with. Because of this, he hadn't yet owled Dumbledore about his scar.
Sirius hadn't sent a letter back yet, and it worried him even more than his hurting scar and missing owl. Harry was certainly happy when he received a letter from Ron on the last week of vacation, informing him that they'd be arriving later that day and going to Diagon Alley for their needed school supplies.
More and more frequently he was waking with his robes on and injuries throbbing. He couldn't figure out what was going on. Both Hermoine and Ron thought he was just sleep walking, but the throbbing of his scar told him otherwise.
If only Sirius would owl him so he could ask what he thought.
