Harry releases a public response to the letters he's been receiving from fans.
Dear friends,
I want to start this letter by thanking you all for being so patient and understanding. I know that I've been quiet and not the best subject to interview. I never really got used to all the interviews and the media attention, especially right after the war, when all I wanted to do was just disappear for a while. It was difficult to discern which questions I should answer and which I shouldn't. Which the public deserved answers to and which were personal. Because it was all very personal to me. But I understood that people needed to know what happened and they had a right to know, and even if I felt like I was sharing private things with the world, I knew that they couldn't really be private. So I tried to keep as much of myself to myself as possible. I never answered questions about my friends and my love life and all of that tabloid stuff, because I didn't think it was anyone's business. I especially avoided questions about my childhood and my relationship with my relatives. People have always been so oddly curious about that. I told you we didn't get along. I told you I no longer am in contact with them. I don't know what else you want to know.
I get a lot of letters from people all the time. They're very sweet and kind, and I save them all, and I reply as much as I can. People frequently write to me for advice. I don't know why they do, because I don't think I've ever demonstrated any ability in that area, but I'm glad they feel they can trust me nonetheless. I try to help as much as I can, but some of it is way beyond my skill level. The most I can be is a person to listen, and I hope that's enough.
Quite a few people have written to me about abusive situations that they're in, either at home or with a partner or someone else entirely. And this is what I've always had the hardest time with. I never know what to say when I get these letters. I want to help you, but I don't know how. And honestly, up until very recently, I refused to admit that I was ever in a situation like you are. People would mention my "abusive" relatives to me, and that word never really made sense in my head because I didn't think I was "abused." I know they hurt me. I know they were awful to me. I know that decent people would not have treated me the way they did. But I always excused it in my mind. Because even though I knew it was wrong, I could still understand it. I mean, it wasn't their fault that they got stuck with me. My aunt was always jealous of my mom, and she held a lot of resentment about that, and then she was just thrust with this kid to remind her about it all the time. And they had no obligation to love me, or even like me. They made it very clear that they didn't want me, but they were stuck with me, and I felt very bad about that.
When I was little and I was in the midst of all of it, I didn't even realize that it was wrong. I knew they treated my cousin differently, but that was because he's their son and they wanted him, and he wasn't a "freak" like I was. I just thought it was something I had to deal with because these people weren't my parents and didn't like me. I didn't know that it was considered "abuse" to lock a child in a small, spider-filled cupboard for weeks at a time. I didn't know that adults weren't ever supposed to hit kids, or burn them, or make them work nonstop in the heat, or treat them like a house tool, or do everything they can to make them feel as small and insignificant as possible. I didn't know that was "abuse." I just thought it was my life.
I realized it was strange when I went to Hogwarts and made friends with real families and such, but I never thought that I was abused. Because I understood why they did it, and I thought that made it okay.
So it is very difficult for me to respond to these people who are asking for advice, because I've only recently come to realize that I've been in their position. Maybe it's because I've been helping to raise my godson, who is the sweetest little boy in the world, and who deserves nothing but happiness. Or maybe it's because my wife and I have a child on the way, and I'm thinking about how I can make his childhood as different from mine as possible. I don't know. But the point is that I realize now that, yes, I was abused as a child (and well into my teens, if we're being honest). And that's okay. Because it made me who I am. It made me strong and able to fight. It made me able to take care of myself, and it gave me important instincts for survival. Honestly, if I didn't become the person I became because of the way they treated me, I don't think I'd have been able to do what I did in the war. I don't think we would have won. Maybe it's wrong that I feel grateful for that. And maybe it's not wrong.
Here's my advice to all of you who I've never been able to respond to: just survive. Do everything you have to to keep yourself alive, both emotionally and physically, and know that soon enough, you'll be out of there and free to live your own life. And understand that it has nothing to do with you. There is no excuse for someone to treat you badly. None. And one day you'll be free and you'll find people who love you and who treat you right, and that is beautiful because it's real and safe. I feel weird saying this next part because it seems kind of hypocritical of me, but you can always talk to an adult or call the police if you really feel like you can't be there anymore. There are people who can help you.
Thank you for writing to me, and thank you for listening to me try to work through a response. The support and kindness I receive from you people is more than I deserve, and I'm so thankful for it. Good luck.
Love,
Harry