Inseparable

CHAPTER FORTY NINE

"BOY!" his aunt yelled, "you haven't washed the dishes yet!"

A six year old Harry Potter scurried out of his cupboard and hurried to the kitchen.

Harry lived with his relatives since he was a baby. His parents both died in a car crash; they were drunk drivers. Harry was in the car as well, but luckily he survived with only an ugly scar on his forehead. He lived with his mother's sister, Petunia, ever since.

"Vernon will be home soon," Petunia continued to shout, "and you know what happens when you don't finish your chores by the time Vernon arrives back home!"

Harry nodded his head and quickly dragged his plastic step to the sink. Due to his lack of food and proper nutrition, it was no surprise that Harry was short.

Petunia stood over Harry's shoulder for a while, watching him wash the dishes, before giving a short hum and left to go and pick Dudley up from his friend's house.

Harry didn't want his aunt to leave. Even though she was cruel and made him do all of the chores in the house, she was better than Vernon. When Petunia wasn't home, Vernon would always be more violent. Petunia never liked blood on the carpets, so Vernon would hold back his anger when she was home.

Now Harry was alone in the house, and Vernon could walk in any minute now. Hopefully, he could finish washing all the dishes by then.

It wasn't much long later that Harry could hear the tired rumbling of Vernon's old car parking outside. Harry had only done half the washing.

The door slammed open with a loud BANG, startling Harry and making him drop a plate. Harry tried to quickly pick up the broken pieces and hide them from his uncle. He could hear the heavy footsteps coming closer and rushed to clean everything up, ignoring how some of the sharp shards of porcelain cut his hands.

Vernon just had a bad day at work; there was a promotion that he kept his eye on. Instead of him getting the promotion, which he rightly deserved, it was given to someone else. There went his chance of becoming an executive director. Now all he needed was a large dinner and a bottle of gin.

"FREAK!" Vernon hollered down the corridor. He stomped into the kitchen but stopped when he saw the freak standing up, looking fearfully at him and holding broken bits of plate in bloody hands.

"FREAK!" He shouted, "what on earth are you doing breaking my plates!" Vernon then noticed the blood dripping on the floor. "So eager to smear blood on the floor, are you?" Vernon sneered, "I can help you with that if you want!"

When Harry heard his uncle come up to the kitchen doorway, he quickly stood up with his head lowered slightly. He already saw his uncle angry before; he didn't want to see his uncle's ugly blotchy red and purple face.

Harry looked down at his bare feet. There were red spots on them. Each spot was a drop of blood. The floor also had a few blood spots. His uncle would probably be angry about that.

Harry tried to repress his flinch when his uncle grabbed him by his arm. Nothing good was going to happen to him now. His uncle slapped him hard with his free hand right in the middle of his back. Harry's small weak six year old body fell forwards and crashed into the floor. That slap would surely leave a dark purple bruise the next day.

Vernon looked down at the freak; it was lying on the floor pathetically. The freak was breathing heavily and Vernon was tempted to kick it. So he did.

He swung his leg and kicked the freak on his side. The freak whimpered in pain, and Vernon was determined to make it scream.

The freak was curled up on the floor with its hands wrapped around its head.

Vernon kicked the freak again in its stomach, and it cried out in pain. Vernon was pleased.