Chapter 2: Why did you leave me here?
The next morning, Harry awoke to a great pain in his back; and his Aunt banging on the door, yelling at him to wake up. As he got up, he wondered if his sunburns were the source of pain he felt on his back. He languidly got up, rubbed sleep from his eyes, blew a cobweb out of his face, and reached back to feel his already welt-covered back. It came back slightly sticky and when Harry saw the dried blood on his sheets, he remembered.
They day didn't look like it was going to start well. He rubbed his eyes again, grabbed his glasses, which were practically broken, and changed into the only other pair of his oversized clothes. He then proceeded to open the door to his cupboard where he could see his aunt's stern, horse-like face and her akimbo arms.
"Hurry up and start making breakfast, you lazy freak!" His aunt impatiently snapped, her pale eyes smoldering. He lowered his eyes to his worn socks, gave a sharp nod, and followed his aunt into the kitchen. Once he got into the kitchen, he began preparing a large banquet of pancakes, kippers, eggs, toast, scones, sausages, and bacon for breakfast. And coffee, of course.
He heard his whale of a cousin make his way downstairs; it was impossible to miss the loud creaking that the stairs emitted under the strain of his weight. Aunt Petunia greeted him warmly, kissing his disheveled hair and enveloping him in a hug which was gladly returned.
"Did you sleep well, dear?" She asked, smiling lovingly at Dudley.
"Yes, mummy," He mumbled sleepily as he plopped himself into a chair.
After watching them with barely concealed envy, Harry returned to his work and started off by putting a few pieces of bread in the toaster and checked on them every once in a while to make sure they didn't take on the same jet black color as his hair. He fried all the bacon and sausages till they were sizzling and crispy, the pancakes until they were a healthy golden brown, the eggs until the were sunny side up and thoroughly fried, the scones until they had a lightly golden crust with the chocolate chips were slightly melted on the inside, and as for the kippers, well, they were store bought and precooked so they were just reheated. After he pilled everything high on the plates, he set the table, served Dudley and his Aunt Petunia, who were the only ones up, and made his uncle some black coffee in his favorite mug.
It wasn't a surprise that Uncle Vernon slept in; it was a weekend after all. But, he hoped that the food wouldn't get cold before Uncle Vernon came down. Luckily for Harry, he came lumbering down the stairs a couple minutes later. His uncle went out to grab the Sunday paper, and when he returned he lightly kissed Aunt Petunia, affectionately ruffled Dudley's hair and sat down; lightly reading it whilst sipping his coffee and munching on some kippers. He didn't even acknowledge Harry's presence. This happened often, almost everyday actually, but even so, it always felt like a slap in the face and his face to fall slightly. Even though his relatives made sure that he knew he wasn't a welcomed member of the family, he still craved positive attention, or at least to be addressed in this circumstance.
Deciding that dwelling on the unattainable would do no good, his mind wandered aimlessly before landing on the touchy subject of food. He hoped for some breakfast, but Harry knew his chances of getting left overs were extremely slim when he recalled what his uncle had said the night before. He couldn't remember the last time he ate something, anything - and that wasn't an exaggeration.
His stomach growled rather loudly, earning him a sneer from Dudley who then speared an extra large portion of his pancake and ate it slowly, all the while keeping eye contact with Harry. He let out a hollow sigh and headed to the bathroom to take a shower in an attempt to get rid of the dried blood that still caked his back. What he would do for any kind of food. He had contemplated many times about eating out of the trash, but knew that if his relatives caught him, he would have no hope of getting food any more than he would've before.
Harry tried to banish the constant thought of his hunger, but it was impossible when his stomach persistently growled at him, demanding to be fed. When he checked himself out in the mirror after his short, freezing shower, he noticed with dismay that his collarbone and ribs stuck out alarmingly; he could easily count all of his ribs. Harry knew it was unhealthy, but no one at school noticed - and if they did, they wouldn't have thought twice about it anyway. Ar least, that's what Harry thought. Deciding to try and move on to happier topics, he remembered today was the day he got to go shopping in Surrey. The list of stores that he was normally given went as the following: Go to the meat locker, go to the bakery, and the local pharmacy.
After Harry was clean, dressed, and ready to go shopping, he remembered that he had to clean up after breakfast. He hastily took their plates, silverware, and cups and began washing them before his relatives could chastise him for his "laziness." After he dried and put them away, his uncle came up to him and gave him money for the food.
"If you spend that money on anything else, or eat any of that food, you'll regret it, boy," Uncle Vernon threatened, giving Harry a severe look."Got it?" Harry nodded in silent affirmation and walked out the front door, the money clutched tightly in his fist. Harry hadn't been listening, though. He looked up to the cloudless sky and asked his parents the same question he did everyday, Why did you leave me here?
He never got an answer.