Harry lay on the ground shivering furiously. The plastic shed was nearing 100° F or 38.7° C and despite the unbearable heat, Harry was plagued with freezing ice that floated through his blood. His chin chattered noisily and his stomach had unbearable pain-filled cramps that left him stuck on the uncomfortable bucket for hours, in the moments that Harry could summon enough strength to drag himself towards the make-shift toilet.
Almost a day had passed since Clarence had stopped breathing, hours had passed since Hedwig had lost her strength to stay upright on the crib nearby. Instead, she lay on the floor in a heap, without even enough energy left to try to eat the dead lizard nearby.
Harry swallowed dryly, his pale lips breaking and spilling warm blood all over his lips. He was wrapped in his cloak like it was a lifeline. Every faint breath coming from the dying child was like stabs ripping through the air that surrounded him with a serrated blade. He coughed harshly, unable to see the blood that splattered the floor before him. Harry whimpered softly and scratched his nails across the face of the weeping plastic child. The bloody nubs of brittle nails left deep scratches laced throughout the shed walls like that of a rabid wolf trapped in its confines.
In the last effort chance, Harry summoned his magic and attempted to conjure enough energy to melt the walls, hyper-aware of that once dreaded hose sitting only three feet away from him and wondering why he had hated the beautiful object in the first place. For a moment a tiny spark filled the darkroom. A dull tiny spark lit up the room only enough for Harry to watch as Hedwig closed her eyes and did not open them again.
He let out a pitiful sob, cut short by his cracked voice. Suddenly the doors opened and Harry was blinded by the sunlight filling the dreary shed.
"Get up, Boy,"
