Harry didn't mind being alone.
To be honest, he actually quite enjoyed it. He didn't have to do any chores, he didn't get yelled at, and he didn't get slapped. But most of all, he could think.
Given his current situation, he didn't mind thinking.
Being trapped in a small closet doesn't give you much else to do.
He pulled himself so he was sitting upright against one of the walls with his pillow behind his back. His hand came up to finger the small red mark forming on his forehead, willing the ache to go away. He kept his legs scrunched up flush against his chest so that he didn't have to worry about kicking the wall in front of him and his arms loosely wrapped around his legs hoping to instill heat throughout his body which had been stolen by the autumn weather.
Being a scrawny boy, he had enough space on either side of him, but he couldn't fully extend his legs in front of him before reaching the wall. A little ways above him was a shelf where he could store all of his belongings. Mainly he had all his clothes - both too big and threadbare, folded neatly. But he also had something hidden there, which he wouldn't risk taking out during the day.
Harry thought about everything; his life, his family, kindergarten, his room, magic, dragons and anything else that caught his attention. But his thoughts lingered on a 'what if' story, in which he would be rich and treated as a king. What a dream it would be.
The feel of wasting money on silly nothing's, lazing around all day without any chores, behaving anyway you want, but most of all: people who love you.
Click.
His mom would be there. His daddy would be there. And Harry would be there too. They would live together in a giant house that resembled a castle. He would wake up every morning to the smell of bacon, eggs and biscuits, and eat with his parents at a table. Then they would play all day long together.
...of course….ha….life….beneficial…
Then they would make lunch together, maybe sandwiches or soup. And eat it outside together where a warm breeze would flow by. Then they would play some more, Harry would even get to run around anywhere he pleased while his parents chased him. Every second would be spent happy and loved.
They would eat dinner later in the evening, Harry decided, because they would be having so much time they wouldn't notice the time or their hunger. It would be a feast in the evening - with chicken, and potatoes and-
Harry's stomach growled at the image of so much food in his head. He hadn't gotten his food that day- his apple was still wherever his aunt kept it during the day.
"Oh Vernon! You tell the funniest jokes I have ever heard!"
The sound of laughter echoed throughout the house and Harry was once more reminded of the fact that his Aunt and Uncle had visitors.
According to Harry, they were quite loud, and very obnoxious. But it seemed that they were good company as their laughter caught on with the Dursleys and Harry could hear that everyone was having a good time. Everyone that is, except him.
But Harry was used to it. Bad boys shouldn't have fun, they needed to be taught to behave. Which is precisely why Harry was in his room and Dudley was downstairs.
Harry's stomach growled again and his thoughts went back to his forgotten fruit.
He rubbed his stomach in an attempt to ward off the hunger, but instead winced in pain. He rolled up his shirt and saw his skin was still a purplish color from the day before when he had been shoved into the armrest of the couch.
Now with pain in his mind, Harry let his hands trail along his body, massaging anything that hurt, and more often than not, wincing at the contact his hands made with his frail body.
He started at his neck, where fingerprints were etched in red. His own fingers layered themselves onto them and softly rubbed. He continued till warmth had spread from his hands to his neck. Travelling downwards to the ache in his lower back from bending over the garden, Harry couldn't help but be happy that he had chosen to lean against his pillow. The feel of his warm hands on his back was so soothing, Harry could feel all of his muscles relaxing, letting him sit more comfortably.
His hands skimmed past his waist where he knew he had swollen welts all the way down to where his pelvis jutted out. His thighs weren't too bad, they were only cold, but his knees were pretty bad. His knee caps were multicolored bruises all in different stages of healing. Most were due to long hours of kneeling he was subject to while cleaning or gardening, others were from the countless times he was thrown onto his knees. The shins on one's legs don't normally retrieve much damage, but Harry's did: for as long as he could remember Dudley would give him a swift kick, but ever since school started, it was Dudley and his friends who would give him a swift kick before running off.
In Harry's opinion, his feet were the worst off. Around the entire circumference of both feet, was a disarray of blisters, old and new. All from the shoes he was subject to wear while out of the house. Harry realized some of them had even popped while he had worn them that day. His hands pressed into his feet, feeling like pins and needles. His hands touching his heels and the sides of his outer toes he realized, by the wet feel, that they were the site of popped blisters. There was even still some dirt caked along his feet that had gotten into his shoes and attached itself to his sockless feet.
He dusted the dirt off his feet and swept it into the far corner of his room that was just out of arm's reach, where a small pile had already been accumulating. Some dirt was probably wedged into his blisters and would need a good, and painful, scrubbing later that night when he got his weekly cold shower.
His hands, finished with their job of soothing his aches, wrapped themselves once more around his legs and started fingering the holes in his shirt. At the thought of his scheduled shower, his mind drifted back to his missed food. Oh how hungry he was. His stomach was letting off a stream of growls that could no longer be contained.
Harry's lonely imagination ran wild with thoughts of his apple. He knew he would have to wait until after the guests left before Petunia would give it to him, but it was still wishful thinking. To be able to bite into his cool juicy apple. Have the liquid running down his chin and his fingers being sticky, and being able to lick at both. The crunch of apple in his teeth as he savored the flavor.
His stomach sounded a sickly growl that resounded in his small room.
Harry's hunger had reached its peak, and he could take no more.
Before he could wimp out, Harry raised himself up to his feet, telling himself that he would be quick, he would be quiet, he will be back within a minute and no one will know any better. The Dursley's and their guests would go on none the wiser, and Harry's stomach will be satisfied.
Harry's feet stung as they pressed into the ground, but he didn't mind. His small hands reached up as far as they could along the door where a handle should be. However he couldn't find one, it was as though the door was only to open from the outside.
Before he could feel any loss of hope, the door silently swung open a crack. He gazed upwards along the outside of the door where the latch on the lock appeared to be open. Cautiously, Harry lightly pushed the door open as little as required to reduce any chances of it squeaking. His lithe body slid out through the opening and he was in the hallway.
Like his bedroom, the hallway was hardwood and cold beneath his feet. It seemed to stretch out infinitely in both directions - towards the staircase and towards his family's bedrooms.
He tiptoed down one way of the hall creeping his way towards the stairs. Upon his arrival, he perched on the edge of the top stair and scooted down the stairs one by one, holding his breath every time he put weight on the stairs for fear of making a sound.
Luck was on his side and he was able to successfully shuffle his way down the stairs without being heard.
He momentarily paused at the bottom near the door where many fancy jackets were hung upon a coat rack. More laughter vibrated through the floorboards from the family room to where Harry stood.
The smell of the pasta he had made earlier that day, reached him, and Harry feared when his stomach growled that they might've heard.
But that was not the case.
Harry was able to continue his journey to the kitchen that he knew was always stocked with food.
The difficult part arrived, where he must continue down the hallway past the doorway into the family room where Harry knew everyone would be.
Harry crouched down onto his aching knees and peaked around the corner. Seeing that everyone was preoccupied with another joke Vernon was telling, he quickly crawled across the ground and into the safe zone where he wouldn't be visible.
Confident that the difficulties were behind him, Harry raised himself to his feet and stepped into the kitchen.
Bingo.
The pasta was still in the oven, and no one was in his sight.
He continued around the island counter top towards the fridge, where he knew his fruit would be. He yanked on the handle with just enough strength to get the door open and bent over to pull open a drawer.
Contained within were apples redder than Harry had ever imagined.
His tiny hands picked out the biggest one he could find and set it onto the ground.
He pushed the drawer closed, and the door of the fridge followed suit.
Harry had never been allowed to eat anywhere other than in the kitchen, so he plopped himself down on the ground and leaned against the island where he was obscured from view.
The red apple was spotless, but Harry knew better and quickly rubbed it against his oversized shirt to clean it. Selfishly and hungry, Harry took the most ravenous bite he had ever had of his apple. He greedily chewed on his piece and swallowed it.
He leaned forward to steal another bite but it seemed his luck had run out.
The timer on the oven rang, alerting his Aunt Petunia to the food. She entered the room to one side of Harry and made her way around the island.
Harry paled when she caught sight of him munching on the apple. He watched on as she furiously pulled the pasta out of the oven before turning to him once more.
She pulled him to his feet and ripped the apple out of his hand and dropped it into the trash. Harry was saddened watching his meal be thrown away when he had hardly started.
His sadness turned to fear as Petunia pulled him away from the kitchen and down the hallway. They stopped at the doorway to the family room and she kept him out of view.
"Dudley dear, would you care to escort our guests to the dining room? I'm afraid I need to use the loo before I can finish serving dinner."
Harry could hear as his cousin Dudley asked for everyone to get to their feet and follow him out another door.
Being sure that they were all gone, Petunia frantically pulled him up the stairs and towards his closet.
Seeing the door already open, the way Harry had left it, she stepped around it and tossed Harry in.
"After dinner our guests will be leaving, I will tell Vernon of this, and he will come up here to deal with you. In the meantime you are to do nothing. Am I understood?"
He nodded his head and opened his mouth, "Yes, m'a-"
"Do not say a word," She interrupted him, "You are not to make a sound."
With that she spun on her foot, closed the door and set the lock.
Harry was hungry and trapped once more. But this time he would be sitting in fear of his punishment rather than in anticipation of his dinner.
xxx
It wasn't long before the guests left, only around half an hour as they had already signed the contract and only needed to eat.
So when the house's door closed with a click Harry started to feel nauseous at what he knew was coming.
A few minutes later, probably after Petunia told Vernon about what had happened, Harry could hear heavy footsteps climbing the stairs. They continued to march along the hallway and stopped just outside his small room.
There wasn't the usual fumbling with the lock as it was still unlocked from his escape, and the door slid open.
Harry was pulled out of his room by his uncle's rough hands. He didn't see it coming and as a result didn't brace himself for the backhand that came crashing into his face.
His entire body spun from the force of the blow and Harry fell back into a wall. His feet slid out from beneath him and he collapsed on the ground.
"What is the meaning of this?" His uncle snarled at him through clenched teeth.
Harry still in shock of the blow, lifted his hand to his stinging cheek and when he pulled back, noticed it was coated in a little blood.
"Answer me Boy!" His uncle yelled.
Harry mumbled his answer in fear, already bracing for the next impact, "I didn't get my apple, and I was getting hungry."
His uncle's hand came down again on him, "That does not give you any right to steal from me!"
Another fist pummeled into his stomach, "You don't learn, you Freak!"
Harry whimpered both in fear and in pain as his uncle used the F word. It was always a signal that he would be getting an extremely bad beating.
His red faced uncle did not disappoint, and fist after fist and foot after foot found a path towards Harry's body.
It didn't stop until he was nearing unconsciousness and his uncle pulled him up and threw him into his closet. Harry felt his head collide with the shelf harder than it had earlier that day.
"No meals for you for a week." His uncle called while he slammed the door shut and locked it once more.
Everything hurt. Harry never imagined his uncle to act like this if he were seen eating his apple.
With that lodged into his head, Harry would have to continue with his hunger.
The ground seemed extremely cold beneath him, it brought both pain and relief to him. He pulled his pillow towards himself so that he may lay his head on the soft surface.
Above Harry was his shelf. He painfully got up onto his knees to peek above it. He reached his arm above him into his clothes. In the midst of his few clothes he found his treasure: a small stuffed brown bear with only a single button eye.
He often curled up around the bear at night and hugged it to his chest while he cried. The bear was his comfort at times like this.
And so, spending his night like he often would, the little brown bear was squeezed against his chest and he bowed his head while tears silently streamed from his eyes.
Harry continued crying until exhaustion took hold of him and he fell asleep.
