ambitious, cunning, adaptable | hp x dm

[ Y E A R - T W O ]

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: RESCUED

Harry Potter, almost twelve years old, was not an ordinary boy. Not by any means. In fact, Harry Potter was rather extraordinary. He was a wizard. Of course, his aunt and uncle, whom he lived with, didn't like that he was a wizard. They abhorred it. Feared it. In the time he had been back at Number Four Privet Drive, Harry had returned to his role of serving and whipping boy to the only family he had left. He was supposed to have left after only a week, but slowly as the days slipped on and June ended, and the middle of July crept up upon him, Harry had given up on the chances of reconnecting with his friend Draco Malfoy. His friend had likely forgotten him, as most people had. Dismissed his differences as unimportant and logged his face away in the back of their mind as a memory.

"Up!" His Aunt Petunia commanded on the other side of his bedroom door. He heard her unlock the padlocks on his door and she smacked the door, hard. She had likely hit it with her wooden spoon as a final warning before the sound of her slippers retreated.

Harry climbed off of his bed and looked around his dingy bedroom. His only companion in the room was his snowy owl, Hedwig. Even she was caged like him. His Uncle Vernon had locked her into her cage. Harry was sure if he could have, Vernon would have done the same with him. Harry stood up, stretching his arms towards the ceiling with a sigh and a yawn before he pulled on a clean shirt that had once belonged to his cousin Dudley. Dudley was the size of a small elephant, and all of his clothes hung off of Harry like a ghost. Harry's aunt and uncle refused to buy him his own clothing.

Harry climbed down the stairs, leaping to avoid the last, bottom step which squeaked horribly and landed at the bottom of the stairs silently. He made his way into the kitchen, where his aunt was pruning her indoor roses. Harry silently made his way over to the stove. A full packet of bacon was frying in the skillet along with half a loaf of bread that was toasting in the oven. Harry went to work and beat the large mixing bowl full of eggs and milk vigorously before he poured them into an empty frying pan. He prodded at the eggs, scrambling them up, and laid out three plates. Two of them were piled high with bacon, eggs, toast, beans, and chips, and the last one was filled with sliced tomatoes, eggs and toast. Harry laid the plates in their usual spots at the small, round table and poured his uncle a cup of coffee, before brewing English Breakfast for his aunt and pulling out orange juice for Dudley.

He washed the dishes silently while they ate, moving quickly whenever ordered for more toast, or more chips and bacon (which were being kept warm in the oven). He washed and dried the dishes, but didn't dare put them back into the cupboards, if he put even a single thing in the wrong place it would be hell to pay.

"You get one slice of toast, boy. Eat quickly!"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia."

Harry quickly spread jam over his toast and ate it over the sink, ignoring the way his uncle snorted in disgust or the way Petunia's lip curled. He would rather have their disapproving looks than their lashes for touching the clean dishes with his sticky hands. He watched while Dudley left to go over to his friend Piers Polkiss' house. Harry wondered what Dudley did there. Perhaps terrorize the children closer to Piers' house. Uncle Vernon kissed Aunt Petunia on the cheek and lumbered out of the house to go to work. Harry's uncle worked at a very large company that made drills.

Harry watched as they left, standing rather uselessly in the middle of the kitchen, unsure of what to do. Finally, his Aunt Petunia snapped at him to stop gawking and go outside and tend to the garden. Harry bustled outside, where the screen door was slammed shut behind him. He set to work quickly. Harry mowed the lawn, trimmed the hedges, weeded the garden, washed down the stones, re-potted the rose bushes (without gloves, mind you, thorns pricked terribly), added mulch to the flower beds, washed down the park, and washed Petunia's car. By the time Harry staggered his way in at half-past one, he was utterly exhausted. He was aching all over and dripping with sweat.