CHAPTER TWO
he paid a man to fit bars on Harry’s window. He himself fitted a
cat-flap in the bedroom door, so that small amounts of food could
be pushed inside three times a day. They let Harry out to use the
bathroom morning and evening. Otherwise, he was locked in his
room around the clock.
Three days later, the Dursleys were showing no sign of relenting,
and Harry couldn’t see any way out of his situation. He lay on his
bed watching the sun sinking behind the bars on the window and
wondered miserably what was going to happen to him.
What was the good of magicking himself out of his room if
Hogwarts would expel him for doing it? Yet life at Privet Drive had
reached an all-time low. Now that the Dursleys knew they weren’t
going to wake up as fruit bats, he had lost his only weapon. Dobby
might have saved Harry from horrible happenings at Hogwarts,
but the way things were going, he’d probably starve to death any-
way.
The cat-flap rattled and Aunt Petunia’s hand appeared, pushing
a bowl of canned soup into the room. Harry, whose insides were
aching with hunger, jumped off his bed and seized it. The soup was
stone-cold, but he drank half of it in one gulp. Then he crossed the
room to Hedwig’s cage and tipped the soggy vegetables at the bot-
tom of the bowl into her empty food tray. She ruffled her feathers
and gave him a look of deep disgust.
“It’s no good turning your beak up at it — that’s all we’ve got,”
said Harry grimly.
He put the empty bowl back on the floor next to the cat-flap and
lay back down on the bed, somehow even hungrier than he had
been before the soup.
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