Indifference Towards Difference || Harry Potter

22 | Hold The Heavy World In Your Heart

"Tell me, Atlas. What is heavier: the world or its people's hearts?"
Darshana Suresh

~~~

Harry!

Good to hear the Muggles aren't giving you trouble! I think Fred and George are missing their favourite test subject though. I'm still convinced your uncle was about to explode when he saw Moody— would've been a sight, eh? Well, maybe next time.

I'm near perfect now after that bloody brain decided to get me. Do you think I'll be smarter than Hermione? Probably not, thinking about it, but maybe I got some of its brain juice. Anything to get me through NEWTS—I've heard enough about how horrid they are from Bill and Charlie (of course Percy loved them, the prat).

Wish you could come over at some point. I'm surrounded by bloody woman— you'd think with having five brothers that wouldn't ever happen, but you've got to save me, mate. Did you know woman can talk to each other without talking? They keep looking at each other, but then they start laughing for no reason! It's bloody terrifying!

We'll see you soon, Harry, and I'll bring some of Mum's homemade fudge and treacle tarts when I do.

Think of the food!

Ron

P.S. Hermione's taken care of Neville's and Luna's letters for you, and Ginny's being annoying and whacking me with her letter. Between her and Pig, I'll never get any peace, will I?

Not many people were awake during the late hours of the night. Or perhaps one might think of them as the early hours of the morning. Either way, it made no difference to the lissome, messy-haired boy still sitting up in bed at just past three in the morning.

Harry Potter rubbed his eyes wearily. This time last year, he would've maybe  laughed at half the remarks in Ron's letters and the cheerful memories they instigated. Now, his lips barely twitched upwards, his eyes more focused on taking note of the ones that reminded him of the dismal past, and the expectantly more dismal future.

It took a moment for Harry to further remember Uncle Vernon wasn't there to check their replies, pressing bruises into his shoulder, huffing stinking, hot breaths like some enraged bull. Uncle Vernon wasn't there to shout and spit and swear at him about freaks and magic and death.

His letters were his. Even if the words he'd reply to them with wouldn't feel like that, his letters were still his.

Indeed, he'd finally managed to write to Ginny, Neville and Luna as well as Ron and Hermione. His letters to them had been full to the brim with apologies for dragging them into danger, dragging them down with them, recklessly risking their lives for a lie. And their letters were sitting just beside him, as of yet unopened.

He probably ought to read Hermione's first however.

Dear Harry,

It's so lovely to hear you're doing all right! Hopefully you can come over to the Burrow soon, but even so, this new system is quite efficient at delivering mail, don't you think? Even if it is for security measures.

Mrs Weasley's convinced you'll come back skinnier than ever— do try and prove her wrong. And if you're any taller than Ron I'll barely be able to hold a conversation with the pair of you!