Harry had been off restriction for some time when that mysterious letter arrived for him, and he was still confused at how he'd found himself and his few things scooped out of his cupboard and shoved into Dudley's second room. Confused, but pleased.
He didn't buy the Dursleys' excuse of him "getting a bit big" for his cupboard for one second. Something in that letter had spooked them. Still, even if he really wanted to know what the letter said, at least it had gotten him out of that tiny prison he'd been calling his room. For some reason, ever since the zoo visit, he'd been more bothered by being forced into such a tight space all the time.
Harry looked around at his new room, slowly getting used to having a lot of open space around him. He frowned as he looked at the clutter of old and broken toys and clothing scattered on the floor. Setting his face in determination, he took his already-rolled-up sleeves and gave them a few more rolls for good measure to clear his elbows and set to work. Completely broken things were piled in a corner by the small trash basket he'd been allowed. Less broken things he eyed speculatively. Dudley would likely whine about him keeping any of it, even if Dudley himself had thrown them in here and forgotten about them. In the end, Harry kept things he thought would be useful, but weren't very colorful or shiny, thinking Dudley might not care much about them. The rest was piled up near the door for Dudley to inspect.
In the end, Harry was left with an old bed that creaked a bit (but was at least longer than his cupboard's floor cot), a dresser with the finish peeling up and sticking drawers, a writing desk with a broken leg (he'd splinted it to a lone croquet mallet), a desk chair with no backrest, and a slightly bent floor lamp. Among some of the piles near the closet he'd found a few more sets of Dudley's old clothes that were, of course, too big on him, but looked much newer as Dudley apparently didn't like the way they looked and had chucked them unworn into this room, as well as a set of jogging trainers about 3 sizes too big. Harry kept these anyway; they weren't worse than he had, and they looked nicer. Maybe he'd eventually grow into them.
Sighing with happy accomplishment, Harry fell back onto his new (sort of) mattress. {Creak/i}.
It felt good; he had a room with real furniture, and it was all his! And with the clutter taken care of it felt like even more space opened up around him. Harry grinned, spreading out his arms until his fingers could barely curl around the sides of his bigger mattress, and flexed his feet which were at least a foot from the end of the bed.
Ah, wide open spaces. And all his!
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