Work Text:
Tradition- the transmission of customs or beliefs from generation to generation, or the fact of being passed on in this way.
Harry read over the definition of tradition over for the second time, he was completing his summer homework for Hogwarts and was asked about the customs and traditions of the muggles, like as Hermione suggested, he started taking muggle studies class.
Harry thought for a moment about what traditions his “family” had. They celebrated Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter and all the usual Christian holidays, but every year during these celebrations, Harry was treated as a servant and less than.
During Thanksgiving he cooked majority of the food, whilst Aunt Petunia, took credit and cleaned the whole house after the family had gathered and was fast asleep or watching television whilst drinking beer.
At Christmas time, the same routine happened, Harry cooked and cleaned and Aunt Petunia took all the credit, playing into her role of the “perfect” mother and housewife. Every single year, the Dursleys forced Harry to watch them unwrap presents on Christmas morning, and every year Harry would watch measly possessions, that they would get bored of or break, be treated better and more valued than him.
Soon enough, Harry came up with his own little tradition, every time that he felt bad and under appreciated, a little voice in his head would tell him that it was true, that he didn’t matter, that everyone would be better off if he just died. And Harry believed that voice and soon enough he started to grab the pair of scissors that he kept hidden in his closet and cut himself in his forearms.
This started when Harry was ten and continued on till now, that he was fourteen, soon turning fifteen. Every time he thought things might get better, something went horribly wrong. His first year at Hogwarts, he almost died numerous times, and while he pretends that it doesn’t bother him, it truly did.
In his second year, everyone hated him, and Harry started to loathe himself even more. After he had saved Ginny and closed the chamber of secrets, he still doubted himself, was he ever going to be good enough? If he kept doing good deeds and saving people, would he finally be good enough, just to be himself?
The only person that Harry remotely trusted with his true thoughts, was Sirius, and after the events of his third year at Hogwarts they barely talked, and Harry didn’t want to concern Sirius with anything so he just kept all his thoughts to himself.
Harry felt even more useless after that Cedric had died, and it got Harry thinking, wouldn’t death be lovely? What is he switched up his little tradition and just, died? Dumbledore was ignoring him, Ron and Hermione were in this same place, but they didn’t invite him. So who would miss him? Surely not the Dursleys, and he didn’t really have anyone else. Him and Sirius hadn’t seen each other in person in months, so would he miss him?
Harry sighed and went to bed, shoving all his thoughts out of his head and traded them for the soft embrace of his bed and the cold grip that his nightmares had on him.