The Broken Hero

A Very Worried Aunt Petunia

It was August 20th and Harry couldn't sleep for the life of him. After passing out in the hallway only hours earlier, Harry found himself once again, in his bed with the blankets brought up to his chin. After falling down to the floor in the hallway, he heard Aunt Petunia screaming and running upstairs, his uncle soon joined him, and he vaguely remembered being dragged to his bed and fed some water. It was hours later, and Harry woke up to find himself covered in sweat and feeling only one thing. Pain. His head ached and his chest felt like someone was sitting on him. His forehead was burning up at concerning rates and his throat was as dry as a desert. He tried to reduce the pain by trying to go back to sleep again but when he tried to, he felt as the world was crashing down on him. He fell back to the bed and turned over in pure agony. "I haven't felt this bad in a long time," Harry thought to himself and then he laughed. He felt delirious, he felt like everything was going to be ok. The pain throughout his entire body seemed to go numb and his laughs were soon interrupted by a coughing fit. Aunt Petunia opened the door and saw Harry coughing into his sleeve. His sleeve held a red color. Blood. Aunt Petunia quickly grabbed a bottle of medication on Harry's desk and poured out a few pills and handed it to him. Harry quickly swallowed them and laid his head on the backboard. "Why" he thought to himself. If anything, he always seemed to go through the worst of stuff but yet make it out unharmed and now, he was being crippled by a stupid muggle illness of some sort. He gave a quick glance at Aunt Petunia; she shifted uncomfortably on the bed and her hands were pure white with a red streak across her hand.

"Aunt Petunia, what happened to your hand," Harry asked in a horse voice. He winced at the sound, he sounded like he was 100 years old, or he was indeed, very sick. Aunt Petunia smiled to herself. "He really is the sweetest boy," she thought to herself.

"Nothing much dear, just a tiny argument with Dudley, thanks for asking though," Aunt Petunia replied. Harry looked like he didn't believe it but decided to drop it before his aunt reached her breaking point. She did indeed look very pale and worried about a unknown matter. Harry remained content on resting his head on the backboard. He felt a lot better now since he took the pills, but he still felt very shaky and unwell. He tried to change the subject.

"So, anything interesting happen since I went unconscious?"

"No nothing to interesting,"

Harry felt the awkwardness start to seep into the room. His aunt remained content on looking at the floor, he felt himself looking at the ceiling. After about 5 minutes, Harry didn't know how much longer he could take of this, his aunt still had not looked up from the floor. She seemed lost in thought, and something told Harry that, his aunt was trying to tell him something but didn't know how. He felt himself become curious about what she wanted to say but, he also felt that he shouldn't push it. His aunt did eventually after 20 minutes, look up from the floor. She opened her mouth but shut it once more. After a while, she did get a sentence put together.

"Hey Harry, I'm going to start dinner now, try to get some rest and maybe try to respond to your friends, they've sent a lot of letters since yesterday."

Sure enough, Harry looked over to see 5 envelopes that seemed to have been delivered by Hedwig only hours earlier. He groaned and turned over on his side. Aunt Petunia looked at him and her eyebrows knitted themselves together. She rubbed her hand on Harrys back for comfort.

"Harry, if there's anything I can do for you, please let me know."

Harry turned over on his side again so that he could face her. "Since when have you wanted to help me." Aunt Petunia wasn't taken away by this, she had treated him horribly since the moment he arrived on her doorstep.
"I don't know Harry, I wish I knew but I want to change, I really do. That's if you allow me."