Chapter 1
Harry woke to the sound of pans clanging and immediately knew he had messed up. It was his job to make breakfast, if Aunt Petunia had already started it meant he must have woken up late. Again. With a start, he hurried to get dressed and take over for Petunia. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he was met with the sight of Dudley watching tv in the living room meaning he must be really late.
"Finally decided to join us, have you? Just be grateful Vernon isn't up yet, I'll be making sure your list today reflects the level of effort you put into this family." That was what Petunia did, made him feel as though he needed to prove he belonged, that he was worthy of being cared for. It didn't matter how hard he tried, though, he had learned at a young age. That didn't stop him from chasing the validation he hoped would come after a long day's work.
As he took over cooking the large breakfast, he couldn't help but wonder what Ron and Hermione were doing at the moment. Knowing them, Hermione was probably researching some impossible spell and Ron was trying to find someone to play chess against him. Or maybe he wasn't even awake yet. Harry envied how easily Ron slept after everything they'd been through. Even before the event with Quirrell at the end of first year Harry had never slept well. Whether it was nightmares or just waking up in the middle of the night and being unable to fall back asleep, he hadn't gotten over 5 hours of sleep a night since he could remember.
Setting the food on the table, he went to do the dishes before Vernon came downstairs. See, while Petunia made him feel unworthy, Vernon liked to show him just how unworthy he truly was. Since early childhood he had been something like a punching bag for Vernon, both verbally and physically. Not that anyone ever cared. Of course, teachers had tried to report his situation to the proper authorities, but nothing ever came of it besides punishments for trying to get them in trouble.
However, after the third time a teacher reported how badly bruised and skinny he always was, they adapted. He started getting one full meal a day and bruises were now limited to areas that could be easily covered. When he finished the dishes he went to get started on the chore list Petunia had mentioned earlier. Today was mostly indoor chores, which he was grateful for as Britain was currently in a heat stroke.
"I expect everything to be done by the time we get back. We're just visiting Marge for the afternoon so I want you to have dinner ready by the time we get back." Harry knew better than to disagree with anything Petunia said.
"Yes, Aunt Petunia." That felt like all he had said all summer. He had tried to talk to his friends and Sirius, but they never responded. He would worry, but after the events of last year and Ron abandoning him to the tournament, he had a feeling that the reason he hadn't gotten a letter back was because they wouldn't write him, not that they couldn't. That didn't stop his letters from becoming increasingly hysterical as he tried to gain reassurance that they were even still alive.
As he was pulling some cleaning supplies out from under the sink, Vernon came downstairs with heavy steps and a scowl on his face. Not for any particular reason, that’s just how he looked when Harry was in his presence. Before Vernon could say anything degrading, Harry rushed out of the kitchen to find a bathroom to clean.
When he reached the second floor bathroom he couldn’t help but glance at the mirror before starting the process. What he saw, however, made him pause. His hair had a little red in it. More than a little, actually, it looked like his hair had been growing red instead of his usual black since the beginning of the summer. This created an ombre from the deep, almost blood red of his mother, to the inky black of his father.
Harry stared at himself for what felt like hours, or at least until he heard the door slam marking the exit of the Dursleys. Only then did he snap out of his stupor and start to actually clean. He knew everything needed to be finished before his relatives came home or he would face the consequences.
He began to clean on autopilot. Honestly, he could do most of this stuff in his sleep due to the fact that he’d done everything on his list at least twice a week since he could walk. Harry liked the Dursleys to believe it took him longer to finish his chores than it actually did because if they knew the truth they would only stack more on top of what he already had. As such, he was done by about two in the afternoon.
Not knowing what else to do, Harry went back to his room. As he walked through the door he headed straight to the loose floorboard where he grabbed the only correspondence he had received since the start of the summer. It was from Sirius and when he’d first seen it lying by the window his heart had soared, until he read it.
Dear Prongslet,
I’m sorry to hear what happened at the end of the year but keep your chin up, Dumbledore says I’ll be seeing you again at some point. He wasn’t specific about when but I have a good feeling about it. Now listen Harry, Dumbledore also told me to tell you to try and get along better with your relatives. I know that family is difficult sometimes but you need to put more effort into spending time with them, they love you. The blood wards are fueled by love, at least that’s what Dumbledore says. I’m sorry I won’t be reaching out again for some time, but it’s really for the best.
All my love.
Padfoot
Harry had a gnawing feeling that there was more that Dumbledore wanted to say but he could never know for sure. The letter, essentially, said nothing. Resigning himself to a lonely summer full of boredom, Harry pulled out some old textbooks to go over. He wasn’t about to sit around all summer and wait for Voldemort to pick him off, he was going to work to be better.
And so he sat, studying and taking notes until it was time to make dinner. He threw together a quick roast that he would be taking out of the oven around the time his relatives returned. And just as finished taking notes on a chapter from his third year potions textbook, he heard the timer on the oven go off.
His relatives returned as he was plating the food. He quickly made himself a small plate and returned to his room to eat his meal of the day. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get rid of the feeling of abandonment that came with isolation.
Hedwig returned just as he was about to finish. He had sent her off to Hermione again in the hopes of a response. Giving her the last piece of meat, he started thinking about what he could do. A thought came to him rather quickly, why not write someone else? Just because Ron and Hermione had decided he wasn’t worth the ink didn’t mean others would do the same.
He wasn’t sure who he could write to that would actually respond. If Ron wasn’t responding then Fred and George probably wouldn’t either. And if Sirius had already said he wasn’t writing anymore than Moony was probably a no go. It was a sad realization that he didn’t really have any friends outside of Ron and Hermione.So he picked up his quill and set out to write the only other person that might consider him a friend.
Dear Neville,
Hi, it’s me, Harry. I know we don’t really talk much but Ron and Hermione haven’t been writing and I think I may be losing my mind from boredom. That isn’t to say you're a last resort or anything, just that all this time to think has made me realize what a good friend you are. You have never believed any of the rumors about me and stood by me even after it came out I am a parselmouth. I’m sorry I haven’t reached out before now, but I really do want to become better friends.
If that is something you want to then write me back, yeah? Tell me about all the plants you’ve seen this summer. I’m sorry, I don’t really know what else you like to do, tell me? What’s going on in the wizarding world, are you safe? Write me back?
Your friend (hopefully),
Harry Potter