The Journey

4. Reasons

Everyone in the Gryffindor common room had received a letter.  But not everyone was privy to the information that his close friends were.  Ron and Hermoine had each found a letter on their pillows, telling them that his supposed family was nothing compared to the one he had found at the Burrow and at Hogwarts.  The true heartbreaking story of Harry Potter was being told firsthand.

Dear Ron & Hermoine

I know that this is sudden, and I know that you deserve answers, so please don't be alarmed.  I have left Hogwarts for a while.  I am taking a journey that is going to be extremely harsh and if I have to be honest with you, downright scary.  This is something that I have to do alone, so please don't feel angry with me for leaving you two behind.  It has been my cross to bear for many years, and after receiving a letter yesterday, I realized that now is the time for me to let it go.  I will bear it no longer.  Also, only to realize that it was never mine to carry in the first place.  

Let me explain.

Dumbledore placed me on a doorstep when I was a baby, that night my parents were murdered.  I was wrapped in a blanket, along with a letter.  When Petunia Dursley opened the door the next morning, all I heard were screams.  For the next ten years, the only screams coming from that house were mine.  I grew up in a cupboard under the stairs.  A cupboard meant for shoes and odd bits of scrap.  I slept on a mattress, with a thin blanket, and was lucky when the light inside actually worked.  There were locks on this cupboard, to prevent me from sneaking out.

I was woken up every morning by loud banging on the door, my aunt and uncle shouting at me to make breakfast and to hurry up boy.  As soon as I woke up and opened the door, I was shoved back into the cupboard and the door slammed in my face.  This was almost a daily occurrence.  They hated me.  They hated the fact that I had the audacity to come and live with them after my parents were killed.  I was a nuisance, a mere piece of shit that was in their way.  

As if the cupboard wasn't enough, there were beatings.  There were days when I went without food or water.  There were instances where I thought I should be dead, because how can this be living?  Along with the locks on the doors, there were bars on the windows.  I was never allowed to do homework because "there is no such thing as magic", and all my school stuff would be locked away.  Hedwig was almost never allowed out of her cage, so I basically set her up for a life of torment as well.  I remember one day, I was six, when Petunia asked if I would like a cup of coffee, and I thought wow, she likes me now.  When I said yes, she added rat poison.  I had cramps and convulsions for days.

I was treated like a house elf.  Made to do the cooking and the cleaning, and while it may seem strange to hear, I actually don't mind it so much now.  I can do things that other wizards cannot, like make the perfect pancakes.  There were days when I was told that my parents died in a car wreck and that I should have died with them.  My name in their house was boy or freak, so you can imagine my surprise when I overheard their son, Dudley, calling me by my name.  He was talking to his friends and he was telling them that if they ever wanted to practice their punches, they were welcome to try them on Harry.  When one of them asked who is Harry, he told them, the stupid freak under the stairs.  I was eight years old.  Eight years old when I heard my name for the first time!

Pretty fucked up huh?  But, I truly believe that there is a reason for everything.  There has to be.  No one is that messed up and evil without there being a valid reason.  It doesn't make sense.  I am not telling you this out of pity.  I neither want it or have need of it.  What I do need, is for you to understand that I am who I am, because of it.  Perhaps it made me strong and determined, and that's why I won't bow down to the insults Malfoy hands out anymore.

Which brings me to another matter.  I have written him and Pansy a letter too.  Apologizing for not accepting his hand first year, and forgiving her for wanting to hand me over to Voldemort.  Maybe things would have been different, who knows?  Perhaps you two should re-evaluate, and try making peace with the Slytherins.  If not for them, but for yourselves.  For peace of mind.  Merlin knows, I feel better already.  They will have questions though, as I'm sure you do.

None of what I went through is your fault.  I have told nobody about what happened at No 4 Privet Drive, although I am inclined to believe that Dumbledore let on more than he knew.  He was an intelligent man, and in no way will I believe that he had no knowledge, other than to plead ignorance, and to groom me to win a war, which again is his cross to bear.  The letter I received was from Petunia Dursley.  Vernon is dead and she wants us to, and I quote, "put the past behind us".  Well, it's not going to be easy, because I was on the receiving end of the abuse, but I do need to see her and give her a message.

I still haven't decided if it will be my mouth or my fist that sends that message, but hey, patience is a virtue right?  She has something that belongs to me, and I need to get it back, so therefore, me leaving.  Please, take care of each other, do not dwell on things past, and I promise that I will be back as soon as I possibly can.  You are welcome to write back, but I cannot promise a speedy reply.  

I need to do this for my own reasons.  For once, as Mcgonagall puts it, I have to put myself first, and it feels strange but a change I am willing to accept to reach my goal.  But my reasons are exactly that, mine.  I never wanted to cause hurt and blame, I just want to let you know that even if what I went through was trying to break me, it didn't.  I never told anyone out of fear and shame, and my psyche needs to heal, and if you can understand that, then we're halfway home.

Thank you for your love, support and friendship, I will be back as soon as I can.

:) love, 

Harry

They had read the letter together and now they were crying.  Hugging each other, not knowing what to say, because they had no words.  They had never known.  Harry said no one had known, and how pathetic was that.  Were there no signs.  Were they too blinded by his fame, and their friendship to not notice what was going on with him?  Was he really that selfless that he carried that burden by himself?  Yes, they thought.  Yes he was.

Slowly they were beginning to understand certain things about their famous friend.  Like why, when he had to dress and undress, he never did it in the room.  Always in the bathroom away from prying eyes, always alone.  How he never ate much at the feasts, because he hadn't known what to do with all that food.  How when he did eat, it was very slowly, as if he had to savor the taste, not knowing when he would see food again.  How he would flinch at loud sounds.  Everything was starting to make sense.

And of course, this brought on more tears.  They were torn between feeling sorry, guilty and having some hate for their previous headmaster.  If Dumbledore had known, why didn't he put a stop to it.  Harry had always followed his gut, his instincts, and they were almost never wrong, and if he said he had an idea that Dumbledore knew, then he was right.  Why then would he allow it?  They needed to speak to Professor Mcgonagall.  They wanted answers.