Harry looked at him. It was Dudley's turn to look out the window. 
                              
"All those... dreams... they made me live out... they weren't real... but for you... it's your life. I couldn't imagine losing my parents. I'd be lost without them. I know they are terrible to you, but for me, they are my parents. And lately you've been just up here alone, not eating, not talking to anyone. I'm sorry about your godfather... I really am," Dudley said, sincerely.
                              
Harry could not believe it, but he recovered the use of his voice to say, "Thanks... I...." 
                              
He did not know what else to say. He was just as surprised as when Aunt Petunia talked to him on his birthday.
                              
"What do you see?" Dudley asked cautiously and Harry paused for a moment.
                              
"I use to see and hear how Voldemort killed my parents, but last summer.... I saw when Voldemort returned, when he was torturing me... and trying to kill me. If they come around now, I'll probably see Sirius dying," he said almost inaudibly, his throat was dry and tight.
                              
"He tortured you?" Dudley said horrified.
                              
"Yeah, there's a... a spell that can do that. It feels about a hundred times worse than this does. You'd rather... die than feel any more pain," Harry said, quietly.
                              
"Who's Cedric?" Dudley asked, suddenly. 
                              
It was a question that he probably had wanted to ask all year. Last year, Dudley said he heard him saying Cedric in his sleep.
                              
"He was a friend that was killed because... well, right before Voldemort returned. I saw it and..." he broke off.
                              
"Sorry, I didn't mean to... so, you escaped?" he added quickly, trying to change the subject.
                              
"Yeah," Harry said quietly.
                              
"Oh, I forgot... here. I bought it back up for you," Dudley said and handed Harry his wand.
                              
"Thanks. I don't feel very safe without it," Harry said.
                              
"Yeah, in case any more... dementors come..." Dudley said with a smile. "Why was that spell you did like a horse or...." 
                              
"Dudley! Come down here please!" Aunt Petunia was calling from downstairs.
                              
"I'll be back," he said and walked out of the room. 
                              
Harry took the ice pack off his eye and put it on his knee, which was really sore. He lifted up his shirt up and felt around. Bruises were already starting to form. Both his arms were sore from blocking Uncle Vernon's punches. There was a sharp pain in his right forearm. It might have cracked when Uncle Vernon slammed it into the wall. He adjusted his pillows and leaned back on the headboard. He put sore leg on the bed and kept the ice pack on it. 
                              
Dudley came back with another ice pack and a bowl of soup. He sat down on the bed, and handed the soup to Harry. He adjusted the first ice pack on Harry's leg and put the second one next to it. When Harry winced a little, Dudley apologized. 
                              
"Mum said you have to eat this soup," he ordered.
                              
"Really?" Harry said with a half-smile. 
                              
"Oh, yeah, she said I could poke you and stuff if you didn't," Dudley said, smiling, too. 
                              
"You know you gave me my wand back, right? I could just..." Harry started.
                              
"Yeah, try. I'll give you another black eye. I can punch with my left, you know," Dudley smiled and Harry ate his first full meal since his birthday. 
                              
* * * * *
                              
After some initial sickness from eating, he started eating regular meals under the watchful eye of Dudley, who brought it up to him. Harry could not leave his bed much until about Friday, because his leg hurt so badly and was still swollen. He could see out of his eye by then, too. He read the book Hermione gave to him for his birthday. It took his mind off other matters. Eating made him feel less miserable. He was still having trouble sleeping, but the dreams were less painful. Dudley's company seemed to help, too.