Chapter Text
The summer holidays had officially begun. Brilliant. Six weeks with the Dursleys. Spectacular. Harry sank into his bed, quietly. Nothing had brought any sort of joy to him since he left the train and found his way to the house. The second he had walked in Vernon had said some sort of comment to him that Harry ignored blatantly, Petunia had given him a double sided list of chores that would need doing over the next week whilst Dudley had given him an awkward nod of greeting. Dudley wasn’t so bad anymore, he realised that his parents were treating Harry wrong and he had apologised several times for it. Harry forgave Dudley, not his aunt and uncle though. They didn’t deserve an ounce of forgiveness. With a shout from downstairs, Harry soon realised that he would be acting like a servant for yet another summer.
The morning started as normal, Petunia knocking his door loudly and telling him to get started on something. Harry didn’t care too much to listen, pushing himself out from under his covers, he placed his glasses onto his face before getting dressed into a navy blue t-shirt and black jeans. Being as quiet as possible, Harry made his way downstairs and prepared a quick and easy breakfast for the Dursleys before making his way outside to take care of the front garden. He didn’t care much for a proper diet anyway. Taking pleasure in the fact he wasn’t being pestered by any of the Dursleys, Harry allowed himself to relax. Deciding to test how his Occulemncy was after so long of not using it, Harry closed his eyes. His mind wandered to deep rooted memories that Harry longed to ignore, not giving up so easily, he decided to think of a colour. How much thought would it take to think of a colour? Green, he chose. Harry’s thoughts, or more like his no thoughts, was interrupted by a high-pitched shout.
“Potter! Stop daydreaming and do the rest of your chores! You still have the entire house to clean!” Leaving him with that, Harry scowled. The fifteen year old glared at the front door as if it was the object's fault for being the thing that had to lead him back to the house. Finishing the rest of the garden work, he stopped at the front door to kick off the mud from his shoes. How does this house even work when I’m not here? Who does the cleaning then? Harry didn’t let the thought occupy his mind for long as he made his way into the danger zone. The thought of sending a letter to a professor about his…problems at the Dursleys crossed his mind but he didn’t dwell on it long. Who would he even send a letter to anyway? It wasn’t like the teen could send one anyway, not with Hedwig’s cage being locked. He allowed himself to sink into the old habits of the house as he subconsciously did whatever housework he was meant to do.
Soon it rolled around to lunch time, Harry made his way into the kitchen and prepared a warm meal for the family, the family that he was excluded from. Giving himself the smallest portion, that could hardly be counted as a portion, of pasta and quickly ate it. Ridding himself of the Dursley’s presence before they had even arrived.
Two weeks had passed and the routine of the days were beginning to bore Harry. The reasons for Vernon’s belt to be striking his back was the only thing to really change but even then, they were pathetic excuses. Each day, Harry grew closer, longing for the silver metal hiding in his trunk.
He knew he couldn’t, he knew he shouldn’t. However, his body didn’t acknowledge that he wouldn’t.
It was around dinner time, the Dursley’s ad left for some special dinner at a fancy restaurant. Dudley offered for Harry to join, but he declined and sunk back into his bedroom. The house was quiet, the only noise was coming from Hedwig and Harry’s quick breaths.
He knew he couldn’t, he knew he shouldn’t, he knew it was unlikely that he wouldn’t.
Opening his trunk, the boy took out the potions knife that was hidden so far down. It’s a one time thing, to get the feeling out of my system. Harry assured himself, bringing the blade to his left arm. He watched as blood trickled from the line that Harry had formed.
Seventy-eight days…back down to zero.
Several days had passed, the Durselys were beginning to grow impossible. As usual the only sane ones in the house were Harry and Dudley. What a surprise that was. Harry needed to leave. Making his way to the living room, he knocked on the door lightly before presenting himself in front of Vernon. Harry could feel the spite radiating off of him already.
“What is it, boy?”
“I was wondering if you could open Hedwig’s cage for an hour, she hasn’t been out in weeks.” Vernon’s face turned purple as he stared at Harry.
“Finish all of your chores for the week. Then the bird can go out.” Nodding, Harry made his way back to his room. Letting his anger take over, Harry looked around for anything to unlock the cage with. His eyes landed on two pins, with the right technique Harry would be able to get them out in no time. What's the worst Vernon would do about it anyway? There was no reason to be so frightened of the man. Vernon could kill me, or hit me with the belt. I’d rather he killed me than that. Harry thought to himself. The metal unlocked and Harry opened the cage door, who would he write to anyway? Bringing his quill to some parchment, he wrote whatever came to mind.
To whoever this letter ends up to,
Hedwig has been told to take this to whoever she sees first. I need to get out of here, the Dursleys hate me and they’re horrible people. I’ve begged year after year for Dumbledore to let me stay at Hogwarts. If this letter ends up going to you, I hope you realise your stupid blood wards, or whatever they are, don’t keep me safe from what lies inside this house. I assume you know the address, please hurry. If you give a reply don’t use Hedwig, she’ll come straight back due to Vernon not allowing her out. Hell, she ain’t even supposed to be out right now.
The boy-who-doesn’t-want-to-live.
Harry Potter.
Tying the letter to Hedwig’s leg and giving her the instruction to come straight back, Harry watched her fly from his window. Maybe, just maybe, he would receive help this time. The pit in his stomach grew with each passing second, but his hope was stronger.