Harry held his wand to his temple, his hand shaking. He tightened his grips, hoping to stop the trembling.
"Breath, Harry. They're just memories. They can't hurt you anymore," Narcissa encouraged softly beside him. Harry smiled sadly and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.
"That, Mrs. Malfoy, is where you are wrong." Harry closed his eyes again, holding his breath as he cast his thoughts back to the first time he had been thrown into his cupboard.
Harry was two and three months old and he was sitting in the corner of the kitchen. His aunt had pushed him roughly into his little corner, ordering him to stay there. She had secured Dudley in his high chair and was feeding him lunch, smiling and simpering over his every moment. Harry watched as his stomach rumbled.
"Aun' Pe'unia? Is wanna eat too," Harry said softy, arms wrapping around his growling stomach. Petunia turned to glare at him.
"You can eat when Dudley is finished. I won't have you stealing out of my sons mouth. Now stop being an ungrateful little wretch and be quiet," She snapped at him. Harry nodded quickly, tears welling up in his eyes as he sniffled slightly. He hadn't meant to make her mad, he was just so hungry. Harry did as he was told and stayed in his corner until his aunt had unstrapped Dudley from his highchair and set him gently on his feet. Harry stood as Dudley waddled out of the kitchen and went over to his aunt, holding his arms out to her eagerly. She sniffed in disgust at him and brushed pass him. Harry watched her in confusion. Wasn't his aunt going to put him in the highchair? She had said he could eat after Dudley. Had she changed her mind? Had he been bad when he had asked to eat with Dudley?
Petunia turned back towards him with two slices of bread and a half full cup of water. She shoved them into Harry's hands impatiently, glaring down at him. He took them slowly. Was this his lunch? Dudley had gotten two bowl of mac and cheese, some crackers and a small slice of cake. Harry looked from the bread back to his aunt.
"I have what Dudley eat?" Harry asked hopefully. Petunia sneered at him and snatched the bread and water back, slamming them down on the counter.
"There you go being ungrateful again! You should be thankful that I gave you that much!" She snapped, grabbing his arm tightly and dragging him out of the kitchen. Harry stumbled behind her scared and confused. He didn't understand what he had done wrong. He just wanted some lunch! Aunt Petunia opened the door to the cupboard under the stairs and threw him in roughly. Harry cried out when his head hit the wall. He curled up into a ball, his hand in his head as he whimpered softly.
"You can stay in here until you learn to show me proper respect!" Petunia hissed and slammed the door shut in his face, locking it from the outside. Harry rubbed his throbbing head as he slowly sat up, crying silently by himself in the dark.
Harry opened his eyes slowly as the memory finished and guided the floating white strand into the pensieve.
"How are you feeling?" Narcissa asked gently. Harry shrugged as he turned to face her.
"Fine. That one wasn't so bad. It was just the beginning. It doesn't get really bad until I turn six," Harry mumbled absently as he fiddled with his wand.
"Do you need to take a break? We can have a drink?" Narcissa offered. Harry shook his head.
"I just want to get this over as soon as possible," Harry said as he faced forward again, raising his wand back to his temple. Breathing deeply he closed his eyes and lost himself in another memory.
Harry was four now. He sat on his small cot in his cupboard with the small light bulb glowing dimly, coloring with a few of Dudley's broken crayons that he had saved from the rubbish bin. His tongue stuck out the side of his mouth as he concentrated. He drew one tall stick figure with crazy black hair like his. The figure was holding hands with a much smaller figure with unruly black hair and dark green eyes, a smile on the smallest one's face. On the other side of the small figure was another figure, this one with a blue dress and red hair. Harry drew in the sky and the sun, scribbling grass and flowers under their feet. He sighed as he stared at the picture, his hands gently brushing across the happy figures.
"I wish you were here," he whispered softly before he hid the coveted picture under his thin pillow. He turned the light off and lay down. He took his glasses off and set them carefully on the floor before closing his eyes as he thought about his imaginary parents.
Harry was jerked awake when someone threw a shoe at him, hitting him in the chest. Harry grunted in pain, blinking blearily at a large figure.
"Get up, boy! Petunia is having friends over for breakfast. You need to clean the living room and get breakfast going," Uncle Vernon demanded. Harry put his glasses on and stepped out of his cupboard, closing the door gently behind him.
"Uncle?" Harry said timidly, already beginning to cringe in preparation for the large man's anger.
"What?" His uncle snapped, turning to glare at him.
"I…er, I don't know how to make breakfast," Harry said softly, looking down at his feet.
"Then you better figure it out quickly. They'll be arriving in an hour. Get in there and be quick out about," Vernon ordered. Harry nodded despairingly and hurried into the kitchen. "And you better not burn anything, boy!"
Harry bit his lip, panicking slightly. What was he supposed to do? He didn't know how to work the stove! He couldn't even reach the stove! Harry hesitated for one moment before he dragged a chair over to the counter. He climbed up and sat on his knees. At least that fixed the height problem. Harry climbed back down and went to the refrigerator. He pulled out the eggs, bacon, and biscuits, and carefully set them on the counter. He bit his lip again as he pulled out a bowl, having seen his aunt mix eggs in them before. He climbed onto the counter and searched the cupboard for salt and pepper. Having gathered everything he could remember his aunt using Harry got to work. He turned the oven on so that it could heat up before he cracked the eggs carefully into the bowl. He picked up the salt and pepper, weighing both containers before shaking some in. Harry gasped as he lost his grip on the salt and far too much salt fell into the bowl. Harry paled as he frantically looked over his shoulder. What was he going to do! Now the eggs would be nasty and he would get in so much trouble! Harry looked at the pepper and shook more into the eggs hoping to even it out. He turned the stove on and set a skillet on one of the eyes. Harry opened the package of bacon and spread them out on a long pan and placed them in the oven. After that he opened the can of biscuits and spread those out on another pan, placing them in the oven under the bacon.
With that done Harry stirred the eggs, making sure they didn't stick to the bottom of the skillet and burn. After a few minutes they were golden and fluffy. Harry carefully scooped them into a big serving bowl and placed it on the table. He also began setting out plates, forks, and cups. H went to the fridge and pulled out milk and orange juice. He poured them into two separate pitchers and put the pitchers by the eggs. Harry frowned when a weird smell began to fill the kitchen. He sniffed the air, trying to the place the smell when his uncle stomped in.
"Boy, what's that smell? You better not be burning anything!" Vernon shouted as he shoved Harry out of the way. Harry stumbled back, shaking in fear as his uncle checked on the bacon and biscuits.
"Hmm. They're done, idiot boy. Take them out and put them on the table then get back to your cupboard," Vernon ordered.
"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry whispered, shrinking back as his uncle stomped pass him and back into the living room. Harry grabbed some oven mitts from a drawer and pulled the bacon and biscuits out. He placed the bacon on one plate and the biscuits in a big bowl, taking them to the table one at a time. Harry made sure everything was perfect and scampered back to his cupboard feeling extremely proud of himself. He closed his cupboard door behind him. HE turned on his little light bulb and pulled a picture out from under his pillow, one with three happy stick figures holding hands.
"I made breakfast, Mum," Harry whispered, his thumb stroking the figure with red hair and a dress. "I didn't even burn anything! I was so good! Maybe now uncle will let me eat. Right, Dad? He said if I was good he would give me something." Harry stared at the picture until he heard a knock at the door. He shoved the picture back under his pillow and listened carefully as his aunt invited people in and led them to the kitchen, telling them about the breakfast she had prepared. Harry scowled and pressed closer to the door. Everything was quite for a moment and Harry guessed they were too busy eating to talk. It wasn't until someone began coughing and choking that his stomach sank. More coughs joined the first one and Harry heard someone spitting.
"These eggs are awful!" Someone said shrilly. Harry paled, fear clawing at his insides.
"Jesus, Petunia! Are you trying to poison us?" Someone else demanded. He could hear his aunt stammering apologies and excuses, their voices growing louder as they came closer.
"If this is how you cook I don't think I'll be staying," a women said snidely before the door opened and slammed back shut. There was an ominous silence before his door was thrown open. Harry screamed when a fat hand grabbed his arm and dragged him out.
"What did you do?" Vernon shouted as he shook Harry. "You useless idiot! You can't do anything right!" Vernon let go of Harry with one hand so that could slap him. Harry gasped in pain as his head whipped to the side.
"You think you can just screw up and not get what's coming to you?" Vernon slapped him again and Harry began sobbing.
"Sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't know!" Harry sobbed, trying to back away from the enraged man. Vernon snarled and shoved him down.
"Next time you better do it right, or you won't be getting off so easily," Vernon warned, kicking Harry once in the stomach before he stormed off. Harry painfully crawled back to the safety of his cupboard, sobbing as he pulled himself up onto his little cot, arms wrapped protectively around his stomach as he curled up into a ball.
Harry kept his eyes closed as he pulled the memory from his mind, his hands shaking as he put it in the pensieve.
"That was the first time he hit me," Harry whispered.
"How old were you?" Narcissa asked.
"Four." Harry closed his eyes and prepared to draw out the next memory.
Harry was six. Just turned, in fact. Today was his birthday, not that his relatives cared. Harry had been locked away on his cupboard for hours while his aunt had tea with her friends.
"-out shopping. There's this new curtain I was thinking about getting." Harry perked up at the conversation. He listened as they began to clear away their cups. He heard his aunt tell his uncle that she would be back later before she left with her friends. Harry prayed that he would be let out now that the visitors were gone and couldn't help but smile when he heard his uncle walking towards his cupboard. His uncle opened the door and Harry peered up at him.
"Get out here," his uncle said calmly. Harry carefully crawled out and stood up facing his uncle. Vernon stared at him for a moment before closing the cupboard door. "Go to the living room." Harry nodded meekly and skirted around his uncle. He sat on the floor in front of the sofa because Freaks weren't allowed on the good furniture. His uncle came in a few minutes later with a plate of cookies and a cup of milk.
"You can sit on the sofa," His uncle said. Harry looked around before he blinked in surprise, realizing that his uncle was talking to him. Harry hesitantly stood up and sat on the very edge of the sofa, prepared to drop to the floor in an instant. Vernon held out the plate of cookies and the milk. "Here."
"For me?" Harry had to ask as he slowly took them. His uncle sat beside him, the sofa cushion dipping with the added weigh.
"It's your birthday, isn't it?" His uncle grunted. Harry could only stare incredulously. He looked down at the cookies, beaming with happiness. He was being remembered! He was getting something nice for his birthday. Harry wiggled happily as he munched on the cookies
"Drink your milk," his uncle encouraged. Harry nodded and gulped some down. He frowned slightly and looked up at his uncle.
"Uncle Vernon, my milk tastes weird," Harry whispered, not sure if he was allowed to complain.
"It's alright," his uncle said and Harry shrugged and drank some more. He ate another cookie before his vision started blurring. He dropped his cup of milk as he suddenly tilted forward. His uncle caught him before he fell and laid him down on the sofa.
"I d-don't feel t-to good," Harry slurred. His uncle didn't answer. "Unca Vern'n?" Harry felt hands on him and thought that Vernon was about to carry him to his cupboard. He frowned when he felt clothes sliding against his skin. He felt his uncle trying to pull his trousers down and batted feebly at his hands.
"Wha'? Wazzgoinon?" Harry slurred again. His uncle chuckled eagerly as he yanked Harry's pants off.
"I'm giving you your birthday present," his uncle said. Harry sobbed and pushed weakly at his uncle but it was hard. His head was fuzzy and he couldn't think and he couldn't think. He couldn't feel his body. He sobbed harder as his uncle climbed over him, positioning Harry's legs and bum. Harry's small body began to move, jerking up and down in time with his uncle's movements. He closed his eyes and turned his head, praying for it to be over soon. He didn't know how long it lasted before his uncle grunted loudly and still over him. Vernon rolled off of Harry and yanked his clothes back on. He dragged him sobbing back to the cupboard and threw him in before slamming the door shut.
"Hope you enjoyed your present," Vernon panted as he walked away. Harry gagged, rolling to the side as he vomited the cookies and milk onto the floor.
Harry knew he was crying as he slowly opened his eyes and put the memory with the others in the pensieve.
"I think that's enough for today," Narcissa said firmly, resting her hand on Harry's arm. Harry flinched away from her and she quickly snatched her arm back.
"Please don't touch me," Harry gasped. Narcissa nodded helplessly.
"Is there anything I can do for you?" She asked softly.
"No. You sent my dominant away and he's the only one I want," Harry sighed as he curled up in the corner of the couch.
"I can help you with whatever you need," Narcissa offered.
"No you can't. Please, leave." Narcissa frowned and shook her head.
"I can't leave you in this state, Harry." Harry turned to look at her.
"I don't want you here and I don't need you here. You think because you're my mate's mother you can just tell me what to do? Get out. I hate you and your evil death eater husband. I don't ever want to see you again!" Harry shouted at her, his defenses rising around him. He was at his weakest and e didn't want anyone to see him like this, especially not when he didn't trust them completely. Narcissa's face darkened and she stood gracefully, running her hands down the front of her robes.
"Very well, Mr. Potter. I will leave for now. I will send Lucius to check on you later. Try to get some sleep." She turned and left through the fire place. Harry glared at the dying flames, shot a hateful look at the pensieve and stalked into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He angrily shed his clothes until he was in pants and climbed into the bed, wiping the tears from his face before he shut his eyes ad fell asleep, trying desperately to block out the world and all its cruelty.
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So it's not a long chapter and there are only three memories but this is just the beginning. There will be more and they will get worse for Harry. Hopefully he can learn to stop pushing people away. I hope you like the chapter. I don't think we'll do memories next chapter though. Let's give Harry some time to recover before his next traumatic pensieve session. Thank you for the support, Lovelies. Your reviews have been absolutely lovely.