Chapter Text
Time seemed like molasses. Every single day was the same as the previous one and the next would be the same. The bed, uncomfortable as it was, had become a kind of safety island and a death trap at the same time.
He really wanted to get his books out and start doing his homework but he didn't have the willpower to do it. Even the simple idea of taking a shower seemed exhausting to Harry's eyes which is why his hair looked even messier than usual and the t-shirt he was wearing probably smelled stale but he didn't care. Not anymore.
He had thanked every god that came to his mind because Dudley was still forced to follow a strict diet that Aunt Petunia prepared for him and therefore the young wizard had been temporarily exonerated from that kind of chores like the year before. He doesn't believe he would be able to get up every morning, go down the stairs, go to the kitchen and do anything remotely edible because his head felt heavy and light at the same time, as if his brain had disconnected and didn't want to no longer produce one's own thoughts.
Those few times that he had been forced to go to the kitchen downstairs to get some water or something to eat because he was on the verge of fasting, it had not been pleasant. The Dursleys harassed him with very colorful insults as he was no longer doing any kind of housework but he was grateful that his godfather's threat was still enough to keep him protected from being beaten, even though somewhere in his mind he believed he deserved it now more that never.
Ever since he got back from Hogwarts… everything was going wrong. Cedric's death was a burden that became heavier every day and with it everything was collapsing. He was thinking about how, for example, in the third year, he hadn't allowed Sirius and Remus to kill Wormtail because he didn't want them to become murderers and now he was himself, in a way. At this point it would have been better to kill Peter, perhaps saving Cedric and giving the freedom so deserved to his godfather but because of him he had condemned him once again to a life as a fugitive and moreover he had also forced him to put himself in danger just because at the beginning of last summer her scar hurt a little.
He was grateful for the help and support he received during the Triwizard Tournament but he couldn't imagine what would happen if anyone had seen Sirius Black around.
Shortly after school had finished, Sirius and Harry's friends had written him several letters, concerned about his mental health and emotional state. Initially he had tried to answer as if everything was fine but slowly his letters became shorter and at the limit of the essential and then disappeared completely.
He probably had about fifteen letters to which he had yet to answer, placed in a messy way on his kind of desk, but he just couldn't find the desire to even open and read them. He didn't deserve Hermione's sweet words or the different invitations to spend the summer with Ron, and above all he didn't have the right to Sirius's reassurance because he felt like a monster for everything he had put him through.
It was about 8pm, Harry was lying on his back on the lumpy mattress staring blankly at the ceiling. His mind was full of buzz as if a swarm of bees were buzzing angrily from side to side. He hated not being able to focus on anything or formulate a single coherent thought but it was almost the end of June and he was getting used to it.
As he felt his eyelids start to get heavy, a ticking on the glass quickly brought him back to consciousness and he slowly turned his head towards the noise. A handsome auburn barn owl was pecking impatiently at the window. The teenager moaned softly and tried to stand up. God. His legs felt like concrete and his head throbbed as if he had just caught a cold. He tried to walk those few inches in a remotely reasonable time but it seemed that everything was going in slow motion.
Fortunately, however, he managed to get close to the window and let the slightly irritated owl in. Not surprisingly, he had a letter tied to his leg, and after Harry untied it, he flew off and left. The envelope was pure white and an elegant and decisive signature, Sirius, stood out on it. Unconsciously he looked over at the desk and noticed that at least 7 letters had the exact same signature. A knot of guilt began to tighten in his stomach. His godfather had taken time and paper to write to him and he hadn't even bothered to get his ass off the bed and give him a read. He hated himself so much. Perhaps he could have remedied if he had replied to the letter that came now. Maybe Sirius would forgive him for not answering him earlier.
At that moment, a rumbling in his stomach brought him back to reality. How long had he not eaten? 2… 3 days? He was pretty sure he went down to the living room last night to get some water but other than that, he didn't quite remember the last time he touched food. He pointed his ears for a moment and he felt his heart sink even further.
Downstairs, no doubt, the Dursleys were still awake. He could hear the indistinct hums of the news that Uncle Vernon was watching or the high-pitched chatter of Aunt Petunia while, almost certainly, she was complaining about something. He didn't want to face them. Maybe he could have waited a few more hours and then went downstairs to get an apple or a piece of bread in secret.
Nonetheless, when he looked down, he still had Sirius's letter in his hand. He knew that if he didn't put something in his stomach soon, he wouldn't have the energy to formulate a thought to put on paper and he didn't want to make his godfather wait any longer. So, loaded with his gryffindor courage, he slowly opened the door and started down the stairs, hoping to be ignored. Obviously, his wishes were thrown in the trash as soon as he walked into the living room.
"Oh, look what an honor, the monster in the attic has decided to come down." Petunia's slimy, poisonous voice scoffed at Harry.
Dudley laughed softly and continued reading his comic. Harry tried to ignore the stinging glances of his uncles and tried to approach the fruit basket that stood in the center of the dining table. As he reached out for the smallest apple there was, a plump hand grabbed his wrist and squeezed hard enough to make a mark.
"You haven't done anything for weeks and think you can just come here and get our food?"
Old Harry wouldn't hesitate to answer disrespectfully, also knowing that the fear of Sirius that the Dursleys had been harboring since he was 13 was still present and therefore wouldn't hurt him too much, but now… who was he kidding? Vernon was right. He was just a waste of useless and cursed space. All the people who had to do with him either died or suffered a cruel fate.
"I'm sorry, I did’t wan-"
“When you will decide to do something useful, then you can have something to eat. I'm not going to feed a wimp. Do you understand?” He whispered menacingly in the boy's ear, tightening his grip on the wrist a little more. Harry swallowed heavily and nodded slightly.
"Yes, sir"
Harry kept his gaze down the entire time, not trusting himself to keep the tears from slipping away.
“Now disappear and come back only when you intend to do something."
The teenager nodded in jerks and, as soon as his uncle's grip loosened, he ran up the stairs and locked himself in the room. He sank back into the mattress and buried himself under the covers. He felt like he wanted to cry, a little for hunger, a little for the pain in his wrist and a little for everything in general, even though he slowly became numb, feeling absolutely nothing but emptiness. Sirius's letter lay forgotten on the desk and Harry fell asleep unwittingly, slipping into a restless sleep.
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Harry woke up abruptly in the middle of the night, his hair and forehead wet with sweat and his heart seemed to literally be beating in his head.
Again the same, damn, nightmare. Or remember, if you want to be more precise. The sight of the cup, the portkey, the stone statue that kept him trapped, wormtail, Voldemort, Cedric's dead eyes, Crucio, Mr. Diggory, every fucking thing came back to him with the force of a runaway train.
He felt he was going to have a panic attack because he could not take satisfying breaths of air but the sound of heavy footsteps in the corridor made him freeze.
No no no no no no, had he screamed? He had certainly screamed. Please don't now, please don't- The bedroom door slammed open against the wall and a Vernon Dursley in a nightgown appeared in the doorway, completely red in the face and his fists clenched at his sides.
A quick look at the clock and ... shit. It was 3:42 at night.
"I-I'm sorry, I-I don't-"
"CURSED DISGRACED!"
Before Harry's brain could even register what was going on, Vernon grabbed him by his shirt and threw him to the floor.
"DO YOU HAVE A FUCKING IDEA OF WHAT TIME IT IS?" He grabbed him roughly by the arm, and pulled him to his feet before giving him a heavy and powerful punch straight in the face. Harry fell back, banging his head against the window sill.
“WE SHOULD LET YOU DIE IN THE GARDEN LIKE A DOG INSTEAD OF WELCOMING YOU!"
An unexpected kick went straight to the boy's ribs, causing him to groan and curl up on the floor.
“It's the fifth damned time in a week that you scream like a madman in the middle of the night waking us and probably the neighbors. Who the fuck do you think you are to have the right to do as you please? "
Another kick, always in the ribs. Harry's vision was blurred from the earlier blow to the head and, despite having nothing in his stomach, he had the impression that he was going to throw up.
Instinctively he tried to curl up in the corner of the room, seeing Petunia's smug face at the door out of the corner of his eye. When he saw Uncle Vernon approach him again, he raised his hands in front of him, brought his knees to his chest and played his last card.
"He-he'll f-find out." He tried to say without shaking his voice.
A disturbing smile appeared on the adult's face, similar to a grin and and he crouched next to the teenager
"At first I really believed and hoped that your godfather would come to get you but after two years I must admit I was quite stupid. Why would anyone want to catch a monster like you? "
Harry's eyes began to pinch and not from his burning head or the imaginary knife in his side.
“It seems clear to me that he too has better things to do than take care of something useless like a bastard. I'm pretty sure those dirty parents preferred to die instead of growing something like you"
The tears began to flow silently down the soft cheeks of the kid and Vernon seemed not to have finished his torture because he seemed to derive incredible satisfaction from the boy's agony and in fact he knelt in front of him.
“The world would be an incredibly better place without you. Did you hear me Harry? You have caused so much pain and discomfort that you don't deserve to be here again. If you died, you'd be doing everyone a favor, even to your beloved godfather. I have no doubt."
Finally Vernon got up and walked out of the room but before closing the door, Petunia's pointed face smiled wickedly and said sourly:
“That monster sister of mine had often talked about wanting a child and he definitely didn't want someone like you. You would be such a disappointment. "
Then the door clicked shut and Harry let himself sink into deep sobs as he shivered and rocked back and forth, almost choking on his own tears.
He just wanted to disappear.
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When he opened his eyes, it was morning outside although there were a few thunderclouds. He had no idea when he fell asleep but he felt complete and utter shit.
He had fallen asleep crying on the floor, his back ached from the uncomfortable position and his face was sticky with tears. His right eye felt sore and probably swollen and when he trembled up his shirt, he saw an angry purple bruise on his side that took up most of the area.
He was so exhausted. For a glorious moment he didn't remember what had happened that night but then it all came back to him.
The words of Vernon, of Petunia, the beatings, the nightmare. His uncle was right, he was right about everything. Sirius would never come for him, especially not after ignoring all of his letters.
If it weren't for him, Lily and James would still be alive, so Sirius and Remus would still have their best friends and after all Petunia was still Lily's sister so she knew which child Lily wanted. And apparently, it wasn't Harry.
A new wave of tears was threatening to overflow but he did not have the strength to do so, so, for the first time, a bitter idea began to make its way into the boy's mind. What if ...
Downstairs, muffled by the distance, Harry heard the ringing of the front door bell and the grumpy voice of Petunia coming to open it as she swore subtly.
Who could it be at 8 in the morning on Sunday?