Eeman

Morning

Harry awoke to more pain than he had ever felt in his life (and he'd felt a lot of pain, not that he would ever admit it as he normally had a very high pain tolerance.) He was in his cupboard on his bed. His left leg felt like it was on fire, although some of it felt rather numb as well. His blanket was pulled over hm. And just how did he get here? He vaguely remembered running for the fence, Uncle Vernon chasing him, and falling in the back garden. He remembered waking up a bit once before, feeling like he was going to die outside. It had been nearly dark.

It must have been Aunt Petunia, he realized, while trying desperately to not scream in pain. She must have brought him inside. He could not imagine Uncle Vernon bringing him in after he had this. Whatever this was.

At that moment, the cupboard door slowly and silently opened. Aunt Petunia came in with pain medicine, something she had never done for him, and helped him sit up a bit so he could swallow it with the glass of water she held to his lips. Harry drank thirstily. It must be bad if she's helping me, he vaguely thought. Aunt Petunia quietly whispered to Harry,

"Harry, Vernon can't know I've helped you this much. I had to wait to bring you indoors. I hope the cuts will heal all right. They're. . . rather. . . deep. I tried to clean them up and wrapped them. Vernon won't let me take you to hospital." Harry whispered, green eyes bright with pain, "Dudley's hair?" Aunt Petunia gazed at him and said,

"We've already dyed it. No one will know." Harry thought she didn't seem quite a nice as she had moments before, but still, she was being nicer than normal, and he appreciated it. She left again but didn't lock the cupboard door. He supposed he should try to sleep, but the pain was still intense. He did have a little torch that someone had once given him (also at school), and he took it out, so he could try to distract himself with his book after Aunt Petunia had turned off the dim ceiling light in the cupboard. All he had wanted to do was read the book. He wasn't afraid of being caught anymore. His uncle had proven that he might kill him if he got another chance.

He had difficulty concentrating, however. This pain was so much worse than the nagging pain in his hip. His leg throbbed. In fact, it felt somehow loose. Was that possible? Did Uncle Vernon actually cut off his leg? He grabbed his glasses and put them on. He lifted himself up a bit, shined the torch, and saw that his leg was there. He pulled off the blanket. It did look like Aunt Petunia had wrapped his entire leg in gauze. A lot of it, although he could see some blood seeping through. Had she really done that for him? She had never done such a thing before. It was usually up to himself. From what he was feeling, he thought he should probably get stitches at the very least. He wondered how much blood he had lost. And he wondered if maybe his uncle had cut his Achilles tendon. He didn't think he could walk. He couldn't move his foot at all, or didn't think he could because it felt numb. Harry knew about all of this because sometimes in the school library, if he needed a break from a particularly intense piece of fiction, he would read about human anatomy. He had a vague idea that if he lived to grow up, he wanted to go to medical school. He liked the idea of helping others in this way, to help fix what needed to be fixed.
He fell into an uneasy, lightheaded sleep eventually as the pain medication spread throughout his body, after taking care of his wheezing with the inhaler, hiding it and the book away again in his schoolbag, and removing his glasses. He kept the torch at his side in bed.

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

Harry woke early in the morning, whimpering in pain. He never whimpered. He would usually just try to bear the pain from injuries in stoic silence, or risk being punished again. This morning was different. His left leg felt less on fire and more numb feeling all over. He found a glass of water on the floor beside his cot. Next to it was a dose of pain medication. Aunt Petunia. Why is she being so nice? He sat up, still lightheaded and grabbed for his glasses.