Harry looked around his cupboard under the stairs. It was barely large enough for a bed and what little things he did have, yet he never complained. At least not out loud, not so his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, or even Dudley could hear. It was only even in his head, when the thoughts of how his life had turned out got to bad for him to remain optimistic, even if only for a short time. This was one of those times.
Harry always tried his hardest to look on the bright side of everything, but sometimes it was harder said than done. Sometimes he just wanted to have a normal life like every other kid on Private Drive in Little Whinging. Although, every time something turned good in his favor or he found a light in something small, like a ladybug landing on the windowsill, something bad would happen, like Uncle Vernon slamming his hand down atop the small creature ending its life abruptly. Over time, he slowly stopped trying to find the good in every little thing, kit took to much time, effort, and it took quite the imagination. Harry was almost 11 now, almost to old to dwindle on such small trivial details. His life was how it was, always has been, always will be.
He looked around taking note of every one of his possessions. Army men, a few of Dudleys old broken toys, a scarce amount of overly large hand-me-down clothes, and the dust bunnies collecting in the corners and under the bed. Harry looked around realizing how minimal his life was. Wake up, serve the Dursleys, Get beat up, picked on, pushed around, abused, go to bed in his Cupboard under the stairs. On repeat day after day.
It was just his luck his parents would die in a car crash, before he could have any happy memories with them. Or any happy memories at all. All Harry can remember is the bad. Aunt Petunia beating him with a wooden spoon before sending him to his cupboard without food every time he burnt something in the kitchen. Or Dudley beating him up, then blaming Harry for starting it. The worst of it all was Uncle Vernon sneaking into Harry's cupboard whenever Aunt Petunia and Dudley was away.
The things Uncle Vernon did to Harry was unspeakable. Making Harry suck him off, or touching the small boy as if Harry we're his to touch. Once he had done whatever act he pleased he would threaten Harry. It was often to locking him in the cupboard, or to starve him, or worst of all in Harry's opinion was to keep him home from school. For school was the only place he could go to get away, even if for only 8 hours a day. It was something, and something, regardless of how small, would do. Harry looked forward to school, unlike any other kid alive. It was his safe space his get away, keeping him home was the worst thing, in Harry's opinion, The Dursleys could do.
Far to engrossed in his thoughts, Harry didn't hear his Aunt Petunia yelling for him. When he was finally pulled from his thoughts it was to her dragging him out of the small cupboard by his ear. Yelling and screaming at him the whole way, she dragged him into the kitchen demanding him to make the food. Although, do to his lack of listening, and the small fact that he burnt two or three strips of bacon, he was to return to his cupboard with no supper and to not come out until supper the following night. He would usually sneak out once he knew the Dursleys where fully asleep, get food, use the restroom, but tonight was a rare night, tonight was one of the nights they locked his cupboard.
Following orders without a complaint is something Harry learned to do long ago. When he was first stuck with the Dursleys. Don't ask questions, and don't complain or hesitate when given an order. It would only make matters worse, far worse. When they say jump ask how high, don't mumble or slouch, follow commands, yes sir, no sir. Don't defend yourself take it, it'll make it easier in the long run, and maybe if your lucky they will show you some mercy.
Harry could smell dinner from the cupboard, laying on his small bed stating up at the plain, slanted ceiling. The young boy knew not what he had done all those years ago to deserve such treatment, in fact he hadn't done a thing. That is just the way the Dursleys where, they where in fact horrible people.
This was all young Harry had ever know, rejection, heartache, and hatred. He always thought it was him, he thought he was doing something wrong, that he was something wrong. A burden, a pest, something no one wanted, he truly thought it was his fault he was treated the way he was. It was never his fault, he just had the monumental misfortune of being stuck with some of the cruelest people in England.
Every night the raven haired boy thought upon his place and his worth in this world, and every night he came up with less and less things to keep him here. Each and every day Harry's will to live sunk lower and lower. Not seeing a point in fighting for a life in a world that fought him every step of the way. One Day in December, Harry's will to fight ceased to exist, and that night Harry Potter ceased to exist. The world never knew the great things Harry Potter could and would have done if only it wouldn't have buried him before he could come to realize his potential. Hogwarts, the wizarding world, not even Harry seen his true potential.
Word Count: 978