Dear Dad, August 31, 1991
I'm leaving for school tomorrow. It's weird, I didn't know about this whole thing before now, but it already seems like it's big. Important. Or maybe that's bigheaded of me. I can't tell anymore.
Like, when I used to think I was special, when I could change the Teacher's wig colours or grow my hair back after Aunt Petunia cut it, I was right, in a way. Wasn't I? And when I wished for something to happen my eleventh birthday, it did. This is big; I can feel it in my bones.
Ugh, I feel like one of those old ladies who predict the weather with their kneecaps.
I know you won't get this letter, Dad, but it made me less worried just writing it down.
Give my love to Mum, I guess.
Harry
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The boy, with hair the colour of shadows and eyes like the grass that lay in wait just outside the door of the house he was in, ready to be misted over before the morning of September first, read over the almost-dead-ballpoint-on-lined paper letter one last time before folding it in half and placing it on his trunk. He heard a creak in the hallway, and, thinking that it was one of the Dursley's come to make him miserable, whipped around and waited in silence for a moment or two, waiting for the next creak that meant someone very large was out there to make the creaking noise. None came, so he turned back to his small twin bed. With one last look at the letter, he collapsed with a sigh to start dreaming about his new school.
----
The next morning, the letter was gone. Harry was ready to be apoplectic, because this meant that Dudley had gotten it and probably shown it to Aunt Petunia, who wouldn't let Uncle Vernon give him a ride to the train station because he wasn't supposed to talk about his parents, and then the world would crumble to a shuddering halt!
But, when he checked in Dudley's room, his cousin was still snoring away in his bed. And, when he walked downstairs, his aunt didn't swoop upon him and berate him for mentioning her freak sister and his unemployed, drunkard father in her house. She just nodded coolly and put a shallow dish of cereal in front of him.
He breathed a sigh of relief. The world was safe, for now.
---
James laughed wryly, reading the letter from Harry over again. That kid sure did carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. That was something he got from Lily.
"James?" she said, walking in from the hallway "What's that?"
He handed her the worn piece of paper. As she read, her bright green eyes grew darker. "Where did you get this? What does he mean, Petunia cut his hair? If she hurt him, I swear...!"
James smiled sadly again and put his hand on Lily's shoulder "Cool it, Lils. I probably wasn't even supposed to get it in the first place, I just..." he looked down guiltily "I just wanted to see how he was." This sounded lame, even in his head, so he blushed and turned around "Whatever. I'll send it back"
"No" the pleading in Lily's voice was evident and made James' heart clench "It's... It's nice to have something... tangible"
He nodded. He, of all people, understood.
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A\N: Okay, I may\may not write any more of these, depending on whether the fancy strikes me. I don't know when else he should mail his dad, and should James write back? Please answer in your review, I don't really know.