When Marvolo enters the bedroom he doesn’t find Harry sitting at the vanity or curled in bed, as he might expect; when he checks the bathroom it’s clear his consort isn’t here either. A stab of irritation hits him but it’s another voice that gives a quiet groan of pain from the corner past the far side of the bed. The bed’s moved out from the wall only far enough to allow a walking path, a place to climb into the bed each night, and now he can see Harry tucked into the corner there, curled into a ball.