Whelp

Reaching for more, he gnawed on the end of the roast, savoring the taste and juice, and even the gristly texture. He sank further into the pail this time, almost up to the shoulder. Even still chewing his first bite, he nibbled again on the rough meat, unable to slow down. He'd just snagged something that felt like the end of a loaf of bread when the kitchen's overhead light flicked on.

TBC

A/N: Will catch up to the opening time line next chapter. At most, the one after.

*Chapter 2*: Chapter 2

Whelp

by jharad17

Chapter Two

Startled by the sudden light, Harry stumbled back from the garbage pail and spun around to see Uncle Vernon in the doorway to the hall. His face was purple, and his bushy mustache quivered over a furiously working mouth. His brown-checked robe was slightly askew over green pajamas, and one of his slippers was half off his foot. But Uncle Vernon didn't seem to notice this, and rushed into the room.

'Disgusting, filthy animal!' he shrieked and grabbed Harry by the neck, shaking him hard enough to make his teeth rattle. 'I knew you'd pull some trick like this. I told you, boy, no food. I'll teach you to disobey me, or commit your perversions! No good FREAK!' Uncle Vernon shoved him to the back door. 'Outside with you! If you behave like a dog, you'll be treated as one. Should've know you weren't fit for living indoors with decent folk. Get out of my house! '

The boy flinched away from his uncle, but Vernon in a rage was fast. And strong. A fist clouted Harry's eye, staggering him, but he clutched at the countertop and didn't fall. Uncle Vernon dragged him away from the counter, and punched him again, this time on the nose. Harry's nose stung and his eyes watered, and the only thing that kept him standing was the grip on his neck. Blood poured over his upper lip and tasted coppery on his tongue. Uncle Vernon's fingers gouged the bread and meat out of his hands. He hit the boy again.

'Please, sir,' Harry cried. 'I'm sorry!'

''Sorry' won't cut it! Now, OUT. Get out!' Vernon shook him again and shoved him through the door and onto the patio where he stumbled to his knees. His glasses went skittering off into the night, and Harry scrambled to find them. The door slammed shut behind him, and the sound of the lock turning cut him deep.

Once he had his glasses back on, Harry felt a bit better, even though one of the lenses was cracked. He crouched near the back door, hoping -- though he knew it was pointless -- that his uncle would let him back inside. Arms wrapped around his middle, Harry rocked back and forth under the moonlight to keep warm and wished more than anything for this nightmare to be over.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

In the morning, Aunt Petunia turned the hose on the small boy to wake him, then shooed him off the patio and onto the grass. 'Vernon'll sort you out, boy. Wait till he gets home.'

Those words always frightened him, though he tried not to show it. Aunt Petunia curled her lip and went back inside. The early morning sky was overcast, and the air was a bit chilly. Soaking wet, Harry shivered and stayed on the grass. Feet tucked under him, he watched the door with all his attention. Cold water dripped from his hair to trickle down his cheeks, washing some of the blood off his lips and chin. He wiped his face absently on a sleeve of his nightshirt and shuddered. Uncle Vernon would sort him out. . . .

After a moment, he edged the shirt sleeve into his mouth and sucked on the frayed material. The water soothed some of the ache in his throat. Tears burned in his eyes nonetheless. He blinked furiously against them; he would not cry! Hadn't in years, really, and he wouldn't give his uncle the satisfaction. Still, he worried. What would Uncle Vernon do to sort him out?

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, the boy waited, and watched the door. His right eye was swollen shut, and his head pounded, but it didn't bother him too much until Dudley strutted into the backyard, flanked by two of his mates. The three hulking boys threw stones at Harry, and clods of dirt, then shoved him back and forth between them, chanting insults about his clothes and bruised face. When a particularly hard shove knocked Harry down at last, Dudley started kicking him with his new hiking boots. 'Doggie, dodgy Potter, itsy bitsy doggie, eating from the garbage,' he chanted. 'My Daddy's getting doggie food for you, you know.' The other boys sniggered and kicked him, too.

'He isn't!' Harry yelled, and protected his head with his hands. He curled into a ball to keep them from kicking his stomach, and after a little while, they got tired of their game. He lay still until they left the yard. Several of his fingers felt broken, and blood dripped into his eyes from a cut on his forehead. His left arm hurt really bad, and so did his back. Struggling for a few minutes, he finally climbed to his feet. One of Dudley's friends had stamped on his ankle, and it was swelling already. His glasses were broken beyond repair this time, crushed under Dudley's heel. He cupped them in his good hand to keep them safe, though he could not have said why.

The sky cleared in the early afternoon, and the sun beat down on Harry's back and neck, aggravating his sunburn. As the day wore on, he grew lightheaded and nauseous. Though sweat ran down his back and face, he was shivering as if he had a fever. Last time he'd had a fever, he'd been locked in his cupboard for a week. Today, though . . .

Late afternoon, the back door finally opened, ejecting Uncle Vernon onto the patio. Harry squinted at him, and saw that his meaty hands held a length of chain and a long, black rope. 'Over here, now!'

It was always very bad when Uncle Vernon didn't even call him 'boy.' Warily, Harry stood, swayed a bit on his feet, and limped closer.

'On your knees.'

Harry darted a look at his uncle's face, then quickly away. The glint in Uncle Vernon's eyes was frightening. But Harry's legs were trembling, so it was no hardship to sink to his knees. In seconds, his uncle had slipped the chain around his throat and cinched it tight like a collar. In the next moment, he clipped the end to the black rope. A leash! Harry realized with a jolt. His hands went immediately to the chain collar and tugged at it. No matter what his uncle said, he wasn't a dog!