Chapter 2
Dear Harry,
I am so glad you reached out. After first year I didn’t know if it would be ok to write so I didn't, then you didn’t either so I figured we just didn’t have that kind of friendship. I’d be happy to talk to you this summer and hopefully after as well. Don’t feel bad about not reaching out, after all, I could have reached too, right? It has been my delight to stay your friend throughout the years, despite whatever the current rumor about you is.
My grandmother recently found a tenebris flos for our greenhouse. I know plants aren’t really your area of expertise so I won’t talk your ear off about it, just know that it’s beautiful. Some other things about me are that I enjoy chess, both wizarding and muggle, though I could never beat Ron. I also play a mean game of Gobstones but no one ever asks to play. After herbology, my favorite class is CoMC. I think I just work better with my hands than with my magic.
You-Know-Who is lying low, trying to convince people he’s not back. Because of this you have been on the receiving end of slander from The Prophet as well as some ministry officials. You have made many enemies by telling the truth, Harry. I’m sorry I wrote everything so bluntly I just figured you would prefer the facts. I’m safe at Longbottom manor under the wards. You could be too?
I don’t mean to overstep, but I notice things Harry, so if you need me to plan a jailbreak of some kind, I’ll be there. Just say the word.
Your friend (definitely)
Neville Longbottom
Harry had received the letter early the morning after he sent Hedwig away. He’d read it at least three times. So absorbed in the relief that someone had written back and the wizarding world was okay, he didn’t notice Petunia calling for him until he heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. Too heavy to be Petunia which must have meant that Vernon was up earlier than usual.
Quickly stuffing his letter under his pillow and sending Hedwig back out the window, he turned around just in time to see Vernon open the door. Red faced in anger, Vernon did what he does best. Yell.
“Ignoring your aunt, are you!? After everything she does for you, you think you have the right to just stand here and ignore her!? I don’t know what that school of yours isteaching you but this disrespect will not be tolerated!?” Everything was spat out with a level of disgust that Harry had grown used to after living with the Dursleys for so long. What he wasn’t used to was the volume with which he was being screamed, especially so early in the morning.
Normally when Vernon yelled he did so at a volume that the neighbors couldn’t hear, but this was loud enough that even people on the other end of the street could pick up on what he was saying. This did not bode well for Harry. The last time this had happened was the final time child services visited. He had walked out of that with a broken nose, a fractured radius, and a steady limp for a week and a half.
Without much warning Vernon lunged at him. Immediately, Harry had to bite his cheek from screaming. He knew not to scream by now, he had learned that early, along with everything else the Dursleys told him. Forgetting one of their rules was unimaginable and usually landed him in a similar situation to the one he was in now. Don’t speak, don’t scream, don’t cry, and don’t ask questions. All fairly simple for him now but not so much when he was four.
Still not as bad as Voldy’s crucio. That's what he told himself as he felt the arm he threw up to protect his face break. He thought he probably would have heard the snap if all his blood hadn’t rushed to his ears the second he saw a fist coming his way. A particularly hard punch to the face sent his back into the floor below him.
Great, a concussion too. Harry just mentally crawled to the back of his mind and focused on his breathing until he had calmed down enough for his hearing to return. At that point Vernon’s breath had become labored and Harry could tell he was almost done.
With a final kick to his ribs, an insult about his breeding, and a glob of spit to the face, Vernon left to go eat the breakfast Petunia had no doubt started cooking when she heard what was going on upstairs. Trying to gather his strength, Harry crawled to the bathroom to wash off the blood and do what he could with his limited bandages.
From his spot on the bathroom floor, Harry heard about how Vernon had gotten called into work early for a meeting with the owner. Instead of getting the promotion he was expecting, he had gotten fired because it had been found that he’d been skimming off the top of almost all of his sales since his second year at the company. So not only was he getting fired he was also getting sued to pay back all that he stole.
That explained the particularly brutal morning, but it also set a worrying tone for the rest of the summer. If this was his reaction to simply being told he was being sued, Harry feared he may actually lose his life after it’s taken to court.
Standing, he looked in the mirror for the second time in two days. This time, however, instead of staring at his now red hair, he just looked himself in the eye. He could see that Vernon had broken his orbital bone, giving him a black eye. That wasn’t too different from before though, his struggle with sleep had left him with deep dark circles that wouldn’t be healthy on anyone, let alone a fourteen year old. Continuing to gaze at his face, he noticed his sunken cheeks and sallow skin that lost the healthy brown tone after three weeks of starvation.
In summary, he looked like shit. Even if Vernon didn’t kill him before the new school year started, Harry wasn’t sure he would make it to the end of summer. With that in mind, he finally turned away from the mirror and walked back to his room. He knew he would be left alone for the rest of today to heal. Tomorrow, however, was a different story. Grabbing a quill, he quickly started on his response to Neville.
Dear Neville,
I learn better with my hands too, don’t worry. I am absolute pants at chess so I’m sorry you won’t find any competition on that front. I’ve never played gobstones, you’ll have to teach me so I can see what all the fuss is about. I know herbology isn’t my thing but I'll always be willing to let you talk my ear off about whatever plant you like. The Prophet and ministry can go fuck themselves for all I care, their denial doesn’t change anything.
Listen Nev, I’m glad you're safe and I wouldn't want to do anything to change that, but I think I need that jailbreak sooner rather than later. I know we just started talking again, but I need help. I fear for my life, and not at Voldemort’s hands. I understand if you are unable to offer assistance, helping me puts a target on your back, so if that’s the case let me know and I’ll figure something else out. One more thing before I have to go, please don’t tell Dumbledore, he will make me come back and he'll tell you to stop writing me, I just know it.
Your friend,
Harry