While back in the cupboard, Harry started to feel more tense by the second. It was almost like his brain had tried to make him forget his life at the Dursleys, but being there in person made everything worse. He was worried—sick—for when the beatings would begin and the bruises and scars would start to form again. He was also afraid the old wound hadn’t healed and his body hadn’t recovered enough. He usually had a full term before having to go back, but now he’s just half way into the school year and he’s already back; it's almost like he never left. The cupboard looked the same as when he had left—the stains, the smell, the little room—everything was the same as before. He wasn’t sure if he was happy or sad about it. Sure, living there wasn’t his ideal place, but Harry was afraid too big a change would make him even more nauseous.Harry fixed the little things he could to make him feel at home, but it’s not like Hogwarts at all. When he was about to leave to see if he had any chores for the rest of the evening, he realised he, in fact, could not. When trying to open the small door to his place, it was locked. He tried to twist the handle a few more times to really make sure it was the case, and it was. A small closable window (that was probably controlled by the outside, since Harry in fact tried to open that too) had been added to the door, and before he had time to wonder what it was for, the window opened. "Dinner" someone said at the other end. Harry guessed Aunt Petunia, unless Dudley had developed an abnormally feminine voice during his time away. Harry reached for the bowl, not even half full with tomato soup, with shaky hands. He couldn’t utter a word; he was too afraid or shocked to speak.Harry spent most of the few days before Christmas inside his cupboard, staring up at the stars above him. He had nothing to do, for his school supplies were locked away, and so was he. He got two meals a day: breakfast and dinner. The plates were barely full, and he hadn’t gotten a proper meal since he arrived. Harry couldn’t understand why they would lock him up like this; at least they could make him do chores. Now he would just be a burden to feed. On Christmas morning, the 25th, he had it explained to him. Now, boy, if you make any sound at all from there, I will personally make sure you can never speak again. Christmas is a time for family, and I will not have a freak like you ruin our lovely time," Vernon had said to him through the window where they gave him food. Yes, uncle Vernon," Harry said in a tired voice. Even though he could do nothing else but sleep there, he felt more tired than ever.