Harry wobbled on the chair as he carefully took down plate after plate to set the table. He glanced towards the oven, checking to see how much time was left on the pork chops. Four minutes. That was more than enough time to set the table. He was so close to being done for the day.
With all of the plates stacked neatly on the counter, Harry jumped off the chair, gripping the counter to steady himself after he hit the ground. He then pushed the chair back to its place at the table before picking up the dishes. Carrying them the proper way (out in front of him like one carries a box) meant he had to carry them one at a time. But he preferred to hug them to his chest whenever his aunt wasn’t looking. It was easier that way, and less time consuming. After peering around the corner into the hallway, verifying that the coast was clear, he quickly scooped up the plates and went towards the table, setting each one in their place.
He then grabbed the cutlery and the napkins, setting each one nicely next to a plate. At least he didn’t have to set out any glasses. His aunt always decided what her and his uncle were drinking with dinner that night. And after accidentally spilling some milk last week (which earned him no supper for three days), he wasn’t allowed to serve Dudley either.
With the table set, Harry went back to the stove. He checked the timer again. Two minutes. He gave the peas on the stove a final stir before dumping them out into a serving bowl. He checked the mashed potatoes next and they also ended up in a bowl on the table. All that was left was the gravy, which he had forgotten about since the pot with the mashed potatoes hid it from view. He needed the gravy boat, which meant he had to get back up onto a chair.
He once again obtained the closest chair. He stood up on it and opened up the cabinet. He searched for the elusive gravy boat, and finally saw it. He reached forward to grab it, but suddenly felt off-balanced, as if Dudley pushed him on the playground again. Harry fell, taking the boat with him.
“How difficult is it for you not to burn dinner, Freak!” his aunt’s shrill voice greeted him. Harry opened his eyes, and was confused as to why he was on the linoleum floor in the kitchen. “These noise means it’s time to remove things–” his aunt’s voice, which had grown closer and shriller, suddenly stopped. So did the beeping oven timer.
“Did you break it?” his aunt sternly asked.
“Break what?” Harry shivered, standing up from the cold floor.
“Oh good, you didn’t.” his aunt replied. Yanking the gravy boat out of his limp grip, she proceeded to wash it out in the sink. “Well, don’t just stand there. Go to your cupboard.”
“Yes, Aunt Petunia,” Harry glumly replied. He made his way to his room, dejected. He really hoped he would be allowed to have dinner today, seeing as he had none yesterday, and only a piece of toast for breakfast. He opened the door to his bedroom under the stairs and quickly scanned it to make sure Dudley didn’t touch any of his meager items to his name before stepping inside and shutting the door. Now, he was in darkness. His uncle thought it was wasteful to have the light on when there was still sunlight outside, so Harry only turned it on late at night, when he knew everyone else was asleep.
He listened as his aunt summoned his uncle and cousin to come eat. His uncle raved over the recipe to his aunt, who simpered with affection, as if she were the one who made the meal. Harry was glad his nose was blocked so he wouldn’t have to smell the food too. Eventually, staring at the dying amount of light entering from under the door became too much. He curled up with his ratty blanket, trying to stay warm, and closed his eyes.
Harry was on a beach, somewhere far away from England, as it was actually hot out. The sand beneath his toes was white and soft. Looking out towards the waves, the water was a brilliant blue that he remembered seeing in a geography book on the Bahamas. Maybe that’s where he was. He stood up, itching to go towards the water, which was bound to be refreshing in the humidity.
“Where do you think you’re going?” a voice asked from beside him. He turned and saw a young woman with bright red hair under an umbrella.
“I’m going for a swim.”
“Not without sunscreen!”
Harry groaned, but grabbed the bottle of lotion. “Let me do your face,” she said, motioning for the bottle.
“I can do it!” he argued.
She laughed, light and melodic. “You always forget your ears.”
Harry kneeled in front of her as she rubbed lotion into his cheeks. “Stop! It tickles!” He tried to turn away, but she continued to apply the lotion. “Mum!” he called out, and she quit touching his face.
She leaned back into her chair. “I keep forgetting you’re getting big now. I still see you as a baby, not a child.” She gave Harry a sad smile and handed him the bottle of sunscreen. “Go on, you can do it yourself.”
Harry woke in what he assumed was the middle of the night. The house was dark and quiet. No light from the hallway illuminated the bottom of the door. He carefully stood up from his mattress, blindly feeling for the chain to turn on the light. He found it, closing his eyes before pulling it. When he opened his eyes, his room swam in front of him all blurry. His glasses must have fallen off while he was sleeping. He hastily searched for them on the ground, gently running his hands over the blanket and hoping he didn’t accidentally step on them. A glint of metal caught his eye on the shallow shelf during his search, and that’s where his glasses were. Right next to a half-filled bottle of something.
Harry put on his glasses and read the bottle. Fever Reducer. He must be sick. He placed a hand on his forehead like he saw on a soap opera once, but he didn’t feel any warmer than usual. Still, he turned it over to read the usage instructions, and saw it had expired earlier in the year. That wasn’t the most out-of-date medicine he had received, and shrugged it off. This had to be better than taking nothing.
He took the recommended dose, refraining from making any sound when the gross taste washed over his tongue. He wished he was given a cup of water too, but beggars can’t be choosers. He once again took off his glasses, and turned off the light with a pull and a click. He settled back under his blanket and closed his eyes, hoping to fall back asleep soon.
Harry wanted his dream to pick up where he left off.