While Harry was alone in the tiny cupboard, it was impossible to really tell how much time had passed. All he really knew was that it felt like an eternity crammed in such a nasty place.
After a while he could hear the noises of his relatives carrying on with their lives. To them he didn’t exist when he was in the cupboard. The faint scent of a well-made breakfast sent a series of painful hunger pangs through Harry’s weary frame, and he was relieved when the aroma faded away.
Harry wondered if someone was going to let him out within the next few hours. He really needed to use the bathroom soon. He wasn’t sure what he would do if someone didn’t unlock the cupboard door and allow him to use the facilities.
The young wizard started in surprise when his door was suddenly jerked open. The gentle waves of morning sunlight blinded him as if he’d been flashed by a harsh spotlight.
“Come out of there,” Aunt Petunia snapped. Harry was glad it was his aunt instead of his uncle. “I’ll not have you using my cupboard for a litter box like some animal,” Petunia sneered as she grabbed Harry by the arm and pulled him to his feet. It was as if she’d heard his thoughts, and he was grateful that she hadn’t forgotten that he was in the house.
Harry stumbled as she led him roughly by the arm to the bathroom and ushered him inside. Even if she was not the best support he was happy to accept what little help she offered to him.
After Harry had relieved himself, he drank water from the tap and rinsed his swollen face.
Harry glanced at himself in the mirror and grimaced. He was marked with bruises and his left eye had turned black. As he turned to inspect his injured eye closer, the bruised skin gave off a strange silver cast and he learned the meaning of “a shiner”. It was not a pleasant lesson.
Petunia rapped impatiently on the bathroom door, causing Harry to start badly. “Come on, Potter! You’ve had plenty of time in there!”
Reluctantly Harry opened the door and followed dizzily in Petunia’s wake. She halted suddenly when they reached the kitchen and Harry nearly stumbled into her. She told Harry to wait there for her. Not knowing how long she would be gone he decided to obey.
Seconds later Aunt Petunia returned. She had a half-eaten piece of toast and a small glass of water from the kitchen tap. She gave Harry a piercing stare. “Now, if you want this food you’ll go back to your cupboard without a word of protest. Not one word, do you understand me? Because if I hear one thing out of your lips this is going into the trash.”
Harry nodded; he understood. Once he was back in his cupboard, he was locked away in the dark again, but Petunia had given him the food as she’d promised. He chewed his little reward of cold, soggy toast slowly to make it last longer. He cherished the glass of water in the same manner. After a few short moments the food was gone, and he felt a little bit better. Without anyone to bark out orders to him, Harry drifted off.
The familiar sound of Uncle Vernon’s voice brought Harry quickly to his senses. There was a strange graciousness in his uncle’s muffled tone, and Harry thought that the man almost sounded nervous. Someone had come over to the house and from the sound of the footsteps they were coming in the direction of Harry’s tiny prison.
Harry crowded the far corner of the small space as his uncle unlocked and thrust open the door. “We put him in here last night to keep him from falling down the stairs again. The silly boy really is quite clumsy. He’s got two left feet. I really hope he grows out of it soon,” Vernon explained as he smiled at the person that he was speaking to.
The young wizard cowered reflexively as Vernon reached in to yank him out of the cupboard. Instead of harshly jerking the boy from the tiny room his uncle reached in and helped the boy out with soft hands. Vernon rested his big hands on Harry’s shoulders in a false gesture of affection; Harry didn’t like it, but he did not dare move away.
Harry’s eyes were used to the pitch black confines of the cupboard once more, and it took him time to adjust to the new lighting. He wondered for a moment if Dumbledore had come to see him. He sincerely hoped that it was him. A friendly face and a gentle tone of voice would have been most welcome. His vision finally cleared and Harry glanced up to see who had convinced his uncle to let him out of his prison.
Oh no, Harry thought as he felt his heart trip over several beats. Snape stood there beside his uncle, scrutinizing Harry with his dark stare. Harry shivered as Snape’s cold eyes noted everything and expressed nothing.
“Potter,” Snape said in a neutral tone of greeting. It was almost as though he didn’t see that Harry had been hurt. He didn’t look a bit sympathetic, from the glint in his black eyes to the grimace on his face.
“Hello Professor,” Harry stammered.
Snape turned his focus on Vernon. “I’ve been asked to take the boy to the school early. He’s in need of some remedial courses in order to keep up with the rest of his class. I’m certain that you wouldn’t mind being rid of the boy, but if you have any objection to me taking him I’ll gladly hear you out.”
Harry flinched as his uncle sputtered and quickly told Snape that he had no desire to keep Harry from his important studies.
“Where are your things, Potter?”
Before Harry had a chance to answer Petunia cut him off.
“I’ll show you his room. It’s upstairs.”
The boy watched as Snape followed after his aunt to his small bedroom. Harry felt his body tense as Vernon’s hands shifted from his shoulders to the collar of his shirt and the big man turned and put his face close to Harry’s. “If you tell him anything, and I mean anything about how you are treated here- if you dare say anything bad about this family after all we’ve done for you and I find out, I’ll make you regret it. Not one single word about us to that freak!” Vernon growled in a low tone. He bashed Harry up against the wall and Harry hit the back of his head; for a moment everything spun.
Vernon seemed to shift very suddenly, and his false pleasantness had returned. The massive hands on Harry’s shirt collar relaxed their grip and Vernon patted Harry on the shoulder as if to encourage him. Harry realized that Snape was coming back down the stairs with Harry’s belongings hovering in tow behind him. Harry wondered if Snape had managed to find his wand; he really didn’t want to leave it behind. Hedwig’s cage was settled on top of his trunk, and in spite of the steep incline of the stairs the cage held fast in its place.
Hedwig hooted excitedly. She seemed to know that they were going somewhere. Harry had been able to let her out at night to hunt mice as long as she didn’t bring any wizard post. If she carried one letter to or from Harry without prior permission from Vernon then she would no longer be allowed out at night and that could mean starvation for the owl if Harry wasn’t eating either.
“Let’s go, Potter. We’ve been here long enough,” Snape said dryly as he brushed by Harry and toward the front door.
Harry nodded and followed in a slow pace to keep his head from swimming too much. Once they were outdoors Harry dropped to his knees in the grass. Snape watched the boy. His face betrayed not a show of concern, but a show of annoyance. Snape strode over to Harry and knelt with a small vial in hand.
“This will help with the dizziness, Potter.”
Harry swallowed the potion quickly. He wanted to end the swirling feeling in his head as swiftly as possible. He waited several moments for the feeling to back off and was surprised when he felt worse. He clutched at Snape’s black robes, afraid that Snape had given him the wrong potion. Maybe Snape could fix the mistake if he acted fast enough, but Snape seemed unworried. The young man could hear Snape speaking to him softly, but his words made no sense. Harry’s vision grew even hazier and his fingertips buzzed numbly.
Seconds later his mind clouded too much to clear with simple concentration. This was not something that he could fight. The last thing that Harry remembered before blacking out was the sensation of being picked up from the lawn by his professor.