Disclaimer: I own nothing.
This story is dedicated to kateydidnt, who asked me many months ago if I was planning to continue 'To Whom'. It was while reading that review that the image that became 'Dear Mum' popped into my head.
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Excerpt from 'To Whom This May Concern'
Do you even remember the night two weeks ago when I walked in on you because you'd left your light on? You barely seemed to register I was there, and you definitely didn't realize it was me. Looking back, I think I must have said something, because you suddenly glanced up at me more alertly than I'd seen you since we picked you up at the station. You just sat there looking at me for a minute, then it was like the energy left you and you slumped back to your former posture. I was about to leave when you started talking; speaking so softly I had to strain to hear you. I think that just made what you were saying worse. Bad enough to see everyone around you dying, but I can't even imagine what it must be like to know that they are giving their lives for yours because of something you didn't ask to be. And to know that everyone is pinning their hopes on you, and to be so afraid that you're just not going to be able to live up to it...Harry, if you're a hero, then I don't ever want to be one.
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Dear Mum,
Harry, what have you done to me? I've been doing a lot of thinking over the last few days, and I don't recognize myself anymore. What's even weirder is the realization that I don't mind. That Dudley wasn't a monster, but he would have been one, given time. This Dudley...I don't know; I guess this is my chance to start over. And I have you to thank for it. That night I walked in on you, the words you said made an impression. Yet I don't think that was what transformed me. The only conclusion I can reach is that what I heard that night was something deep inside you crying out for help. But it couldn't find it, so it changed what it had on hand. Me. But I can't do this alone, either. So now it's my turn to change someone. I just wish I had your powers.
It's past midnight and I don't want to wake you and Dad up, but it's important that I speak to you first thing in the morning.
I never thought I'd be asking Mum this, but then I never thought I'd send a letter to your headmaster, either. And I wouldn't be asking her now if that letter had gotten through. I hadn't known that an owl could show emotions. But your Hedwig...if that wasn't despair, then I don't know what is. Where could the headmaster of a school go that no one could find him? Don't your kind have forwarding addresses?
As you're probably guessed, this is about Harry. You may have noticed that he's been rather depressed lately.
She knew. And I think she'd realized it even before the day we watched you toying with that knife. But she turned away, allowing her jealousy to win yet another battle. Still, I guess I should be grateful, because that was the moment I truly realized I was the one responsible for you now. That was the moment I realized I could no longer just walk away.
The reason I'm writing this is because last night, Harry tried to commit suicide.
I was in my room, and suddenly, it was as if the house went utterly still. It was two in the morning; everything was supposed to be silent. At least that's what the rational side of my mind kept telling me. The other side was what shot me up out of my bed and sent me racing to your room. I don't think Mum'll ever believe that, though.
I was walking by his room to get a midnight snack and caught him in the act, or no one would've known until the next morning.
I've never been so afraid, not even when those Demented thingies came after us in that alleyway. You looked so frail, yet it was all I could do to keep you from taking that knife to your wrists. There was a fever-light in your eyes, the first time in weeks I'd seen any emotion from you. I remember the utter silence of the room as we fought over the blade; one trying to pull it closer, the other trying to yank it away. I finally won, and you just sank to the floor. And then there was only the silence and the dead look on your face.
I think he's okay for the moment, I drug him down to the gym and forced him to use the punching bag until he'd taken some of his pain out on the equipment. Once we'd gotten home again, he went right to sleep. Still, the question remains of how to make sure he doesn't get a chance to start brooding again.
I was desperate. I kept thinking that if I left then, it would be the last time I ever saw you alive. I don't know what made me think of the gym. Thank God it's open all night. Once inside, you just stood there, swaying a little. I'm sorry I screamed at you, but again, I was desperate. I just wish I could remember what it was that I said. I think I brought Voldemort's name into it somewhere, because your eyes sort of opened really wide. A flicker of something swept across your face almost too fast to see, and then you stepped towards the punching-bag. The first swing lacked any real momentum, but then it was like some wall inside you crumbled. Pain, and fury, and hate seemed to radiate off of you. Blows rained onto the bag, and I saw red stains grow from the blood seeping from split knuckles. I don't know if your mouth was open because you needed the air, or if it was because you were uttering a silent scream. Both of us had tears running down our faces when you stepped back finally, exhausted, but human again.
Mum, please, we really need to talk. Harry needs us, now more than ever. He's had such an immense burden placed on his shoulders that it's almost destroyed him. He needs time to recover before he goes back. If he dies, it's not just going to be the wizards that pay the price, it'll be everybody.
I know I can't stop you from going back to that world this fall. From what I know of your friends, they'll do what they can to help. But by the same token, if you all are going to survive the coming storm, they're going to have to accept you as their leader, their general. That means that you're not going to have anyone to fall back on when you need someone to just listen. You'll be alone again...not. We're caught up in this as much as anyone, and I'm making it my job to see that Mum understands that.
I know you like to have a cup of tea early in the morning before anyone else is awake. I doubt I'll be asleep then, anyway.
Dudley
In the end, it all comes back to her. I could have been less of a prat, Dad could have been more accepting of his new son; but she was the mother, the nurturer of our family. Had she had accepted you as her own, we would have followed suit. Instead, she rejected you, and you grew up learning that you couldn't rely on anyone else for help. If you had been anyone else, it wouldn't have mattered quite as much, but you were forced into a different role, that of a hero. And now, you're trying to save the world from a monster all by yourself.
Dudley carefully folded the paper and placed it on top of the kitchen table, next to the teakettle she placed in the exact center every night. He turned quickly away and strode up the stairs. Before slipping into his room, he paused at his cousin's doorway and peered in at the quiet figure on the bed. Even breathing, so different from the ragged breaths he had heard every night for the past month, reassured him. It was the first time in two years that he had seen Harry's expression peaceful.
It's odd; if things had been different fifteen years ago, we might have been brothers. I can't stop thinking that whoever left you here never intended for you to grow up like you did. I can't help that, even your kind can't change the past. But you already altered the present, and now it's my turn to change the future. Mum isn't going to like this, but I need her help if I'm going to put you back together emotionally. I've always been good at getting her to do things for me. Maybe she'll finally see you as something other than an extension of her sister. A boy she's failed instead of a wizard with abilities she wishes she had. But one way or another, when you go back to that school this fall, it'll be knowing that you're no longer alone. I swear it.
