Theme: #62: Socks
Uncle Vernon's Socks
Disclaimer: Blah. Don't own Harry Potter. Duh.
Summary: Harry is going through his trunk and finds them. His old life.
Author's Note: …I haven't written anything from Harry's POV in a long time, so… if it's bad, tell me.
The advantage of a bad memory is that one enjoys several times the same good things for the first time. Friedrich Nietzsche
He was emptying out his trunk in Hogwarts for the last time when he found them, bundles of those old socks of Uncle Vernon's. He stared at them for a while, tears leaking out of his eyes as they lay on the bottom of his trunk. He remembered that pain, that loneliness, that indescribable hunger that assaulted Harry every day while he lived with the Dursley's. He gathered the socks up and went down to the Kitchens to see Dobby.
"Harry Potter, sir! So good to see you! What can Dobby do for you?"
Harry managed to scuff his feet and look awkward, but managed to give Dobby all the socks he had in his hands. "Here Dobby, take these. Hopefully they'll give you better memories than they gave me."
