Harry watched as the Dursleys went out the door to the fancy dinner place they were talking about.

Without him.

Harry sighed and walked past the kitchen to his cubord. He paused. If he could just sneak a little bit of the leftovers on the table...

No. He couldn't risk it.

Harry went back to the cubord and sat, poking at his stomach as it growled. His sides hurt, his face hurt, his chest hurt, everything hurt.

He decided to take a nap.

Laying down, he pulled his sheet over his body and curled up around it. He was so small that he could fold the blanket in half twice and be able to fit under it. Due to the malnourishment, Harry was six years old but looked four.

Of course, he wouldn't know this. He thought he was a normal little boy. He thought he looked like dudley, the thought he wasn't under fed, he thought he wasn't getting abused, he thought everything he went through was normal.

He had never seen himself in the mirror, he never got to take a bath unless he could sneak it in while everyone was out (or Dudley have him one), he never got to have any real clothes, and he never got a real bedroom. Even when he was a baby.

Harry went to sleep, beginning his usual dream routine. First, the car accident his parents got in. Second, a dream of him meeting his parents. Third, him having a huge meal. And finally-Harry had never had a fourth dream. Always that same sequence of those three dreams and nightmares over and over until he woke up.

But now he was having another one.

Vernon. Vernon getting his belt, Vernon on top of him, Vernon taking Harry's pants off, Vernon slapping him across the face, Vernon lining up and-

Harry woke up with a gasp and started crying.