Reflection
Chapter 3 - His Prison
Harry had wondered what his cousins were like from a young age. He had seen his mother occasionally go out to see her sister, try and fix their relationship, coming back in a fuss, ranting about how she would never go back again. But she always went back. He had wondered what had made his mother's famous temper come out, especially because she was always very patient and good at reigning in her anger.
Now though, after spending time with them, he could understand her plight. The Dursley were some of the worst sort of people, so obsessed with being proper and normal to the point where it was the exact opposite. He hated how plain everything was. Maybe that was to be expected when the change between completely different and separate worlds was shoved onto him so suddenly.
He wondered if this neighborhood was like all muggle neighborhoods. Plain, and completely symmetrical. It was like the citizen worked in tandem to make their houses, lawns, and gardens exactly the same. It was quite disturbing. But that was bearable. He could handle the plainness. The problem was the Dursleys themselves. He didn't think they were the worst sort of people because they were boring and plain.
He thought they were the worst sort because they had the attitude of the common muggle during the witch hunts: they hated magic to the highest degree. It was a maniacal distrust of it that he might have justified had his aunt grown up with a witch. And if they directed their distrust at strangers, not their nephew. Nevertheless, he was made very aware early on of the fact that he wasn't welcome, nor wanted in the house.
He got by though, he was at the very least partly lucky because of the Dursley's poor knowledge about his world. He was sure the only reason he had not been kept inside the cupboard and was moved into the second bedroom, as well as not being beaten was because of the Dursley's primal fear of the "freaks" finding out and coming for them.
"BOY! GET DOWN HERE!" Harry sighed. He tried to be thankful for what he had, not being beaten and having to sleep in a space the size of a small dog cage, but he couldn't help but resent his situation for being turned into basically a house elf. He opened the door leading out into the hallway. Hurry down the stairs, he rushed into the kitchen: he had also learned early on his uncle didn't like to be kept waiting.
"Yes, Uncle Vernon?" His uncle waved his hand towards the stove.
"Make me some eggs," his uncle ordered. Harry paused. Make his eggs? But...he didn't know how to cook? He had never even been allowed to go near the stove.
"I- but I don't know how Uncle Vernon," he told him meekly, knowing that his uncle wouldn't take it well. He was corrected thought when his uncle's face went red, He hadn't just not taken it well, he was madder than Harry had ever seen him before.
"YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING FREAK!" Spittle flew from his uncle's mouth, he half expected steam to come out of his ears, Harry scrambled away, scared of the appearance of this monster.
"I-" he tried to speak, to tell his uncle that he could learn but he didn't get the chance.
"YOU'VE BEEN A BOTTOM FEEDER SINCE THE MOMENT YOU GOT HERE! MAKING HARD-WORKING CITIZENS LIKE US, FEED, CLOTHE, AND PROVIDE SHELTER FOR A FREAK LIKE YOU! AND THIS, THIS IS THE THANKS WE GET?!" His uncle's face kept getting redder, eventually somehow turning purple. He whimpered as his uncle yelled at him, and he flinched back as his uncle roared.
Perhaps he could have dodged the punch that came his way had he been looking, instead, he didn't realize his uncle was going to punch him until his fist made contact with his head. He cried out and immediately moved his hand to cover his head, trying to hold in the tears, not give the monster the satisfaction of making him cry. But instead of raining down more punches, his uncle was frozen, a look of horror on his face as he looked at his closed fist.
They both sat silent, a few tense minutes passing by. His uncle seemed to be waiting for something, the wizards that he thought would show up and get him because he had hit Harry. Harry hoped for this, hoped that his parents would appear and coddle him, holding him tightly in their arms. He wanted to feel the warmth of his mother's touch, and the playful rustling of his hair his father always did. He wanted to leave this nightmare, get far away from this monster that was standing over him.
But, after a couple of minutes passed Harry lost hope, slumping against the wall more, his chin tucked to his chest. Vernon seemed to realize that no one was coming a little later. Eventually, his hand lowered, and his eyes stopped darting around nervously. Instead of an open mouth showing his shock, there was an ear-splitting grin projecting his bloodlust.
The monster looked down at him and started chuckling, slowly transforming into full-blown laughing. It was after he stopped and took a breath that the beating started.
His uncle beat him no stop for ten minutes before the walrus tired out. After that, he was grabbed by the neck and thrown into the cupboard he was first thrown into when he arrived at the plain house. He had heard Vernon and Petunia arguing in the kitchen through the cupboard door. Petunia was angry that Vernon had beaten him, afraid that the "freaks" would come to the house.
She had gone quiet when Vernon had pointed out that there were no "freaks" knocking on the door, there had been none since he first hit Harry. She had relented, only telling his uncle to keep from bruising him where it was obvious, they didn't want the neighbors to find out about him. After that, the lights were turned off and his aunt and uncle went up the stairs, purposely pounding them to torture him a bit more.
He sat back against the thing door of the cupboard and pulled the small string that turned on the tiny old light. He looked at his mattress if you could call it that. Torn up and yellow. Looked around at the surroundings. There was mostly nothing, just small shelves for storing supplies. It was dusty and disgusting, he had no clue how he would sleep in this.
He played down on the mattress, pulling a small poorly sewn blanket over his small frame.
His new home.
His prison.
Sorry for the long wait. The school has been a bitch lately, and I have to study for the final exams coming up. And I suppose this is as good a time as any to discuss update schedules. To put it simply I don't have one. With school right now it's hard to anticipate when a chapter will be ready. Plus I'm a naturally unorganized person so expecting an organized schedule for updates is not recommended. If I had to guess though it would probably be between a day and a week. If not, well I don't know. If you spot any typos/grammar mistakes or have recommendations for anything, let me know.
Signing off for now,
Aith3r
