Chapter Text
Henry Potter. Twin brother of the very famed Harry Potter.
Of course, the two didn’t know of their fame yet. Afterall, they were still only 10.
Henry was older than Harry by mere minutes.
They both lived with their Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon.
Dudley, their cousin, enjoyed picking on them since birth.
Harry was convinced that Dudley was the devil’s spawn.
Henry, on the other hand, was sure that Dudley was a good, he just wasn’t raised right.
The twins weren’t completely the opposite of each other, but they weren’t the same either.
In terms of physical appearance, Harry had stunning green eyes, oak brown hair, and, of course, his lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead.
Henry had piercing gray eyes, redwood colored hair, and stood an inch taller than Harry. He had no fancy scars to show off, aside from injuries and punishments from the Dursleys.
Harry was brave, determined, bold, defiant, morally right, a bit socially awkward, and sarcastic.
Henry was calm, soft, confident, empathetic, positive, charismatic, a bit dense, and intelligent.
The Dursleys were… horrible. Honestly. Verbal abuse, physical abuse, starvation, and just straight-up torture were all things Henry and Harry had to endure.
Henry did his best to protect Harry from everything. He felt the responsibility of being the older, so he took the brunt of punishments, always pushing Harry away and defending him.
The two couldn’t wait till their 18th birthday when they could move out and get away from their misery.
Little did they know… they would get to leave in less than a year.
And so, their 11th birthday came…
-----
“Harry got a letter!” Dudley shouts as he snatches a worn looking letter out from Harry’s hand.
Henry, who was frying bacon, immediately looked over as Vernon began to open the letter.
He quickly arrived at the table, fast enough to hide a similar looking letter in the stack of mail inside his shirt.
It was a good thing he did too because it was barely a second later before Harry’s letter was torn to shreds.
“That was my letter!” Harry doesn’t hesitate to shout. “I didn’t even get to read it!”
“It wasn’t for you!” Vernon joins the argument easily, “Shut your mouth up!”
Henry tugs on Harry to stop before it escalates. He doesn’t want him to fight for something that doesn’t matter and get punished for it later on.
A shocked scream breaks everyone out of the tense moment anyway.
“The bacon’s burning!” Petunia shrieks.
And that’s when it all turned to chaos.
-----
Thankfully, the letter was forgotten about. But now, instead of Harry in trouble, it was Henry.
“Are you stupid?!” Petunia doesn’t even hold back when smacking him. “You wasted food! You could have burned my house down! You could have killed us! You little psychopathic murderer, you!”
“I’m sorry.” Henry just says, knowing better than to say anything else so Harry doesn’t get involved.
“I can’t hear you!” Dudley taunts happily from the living room sofa, Harry having been locked in their shared room (the cupboard).
“I didn’t mean to do it. I’m sorry.” Henry forces out louder.
Petunia just strikes him harder.
“Take off your shirt.” Vernon snarls, walking over with a lighter. “You play with fire, then you get fire.”
Henry knew better than to hesitate or refuse, but the thick letter poking his stomach make him think otherwise.
Still, if he didn’t do it…
A second too long think and Vernon had already grabbed him by his collar, pulling his shirt so tightly he felt choked.
The letter slipped out onto the floor.
“To Henry Lilian Potter,” it had written neatly on the address.
Petunia and Vernon’s grins turned devilish as the lighter was pressed upon the letter and thrown towards Henry.
“You wanted it so bad?” Petunia taunted. “Then take it.”
The paper that was now indulged in flames burned Henry’s skin but he bit back his screams.
The lighter meets his skin more than a dozen times within the next hour and he’s left laying on the floor, bloody and bruised by the time it’s over. He doesn’t make a single sound throughout though.
“What do you have to say, boy?” they ask him when they’re done cackling at his torture.
“…Thank you.” Henry mumbles hoarsely.
“Hm? What was that?”
“Thank you.” Henry repeats louder, voice full of unshed tears. He knew better than to cry. “Thank you for teaching me a lesson.”
“There you go.” Petunia smiles mockingly. “You’re welcome.”
----
“Are you alright?” Harry whispers quietly when Henry finally musters the strength to stumble to the bottom of the stairs in the middle of the night.
“I’m okay.” he assures softly, even if he isn’t. His brother was all he had, and he wasn’t going to worry him.
“You’re not,” Harry still says, rummaging as quietly as he could in their hidden stash of belongings, all shared and too little to even be owned by just one person.
“Will a band aid fix it?” Harry asks upon finding a single band aid.
They both know it won’t be enough.
Still, Henry nods.
A band aid on one cut of many, bruises and burns left neglected for now, both Henry and Harry lay on their thin mattress together.
It fit them both for now, but when their next birthday came, it’d probably be too small. The whole cupboard, actually, wouldn’t be able to house them both comfortably anymore.
“They burned my letter,” Henry tells Harry in the dark, both facing each other.
“I hate them,” Harry murmurs bitterly.
Henry smiles gently, even though Harry can’t see it. “At least we have a place to stay.” he comforts softly.
“Seven more years little brother, only seven.” Henry reminds Harry quietly.
With that, they both drift to sleep.