Admiration, for Better or for Worse
My Dad's name was Frank J. Longbottom, and he was a war hero. But for the last sixteen years of his life, he didn't even know it.
I've never felt comfortable talking about either of my parents before, but now I see that for my entire life, I've been dishonouring both of them by keeping them in the special place at the back of my mind, by visiting them in secret with my Gran over the holidays, never speaking about them and avoiding conversations about family.
Because the fact is, my parents are my family. That's why I've made this essay available for all to see, because I want everyone to know that I'm proud of my parents and what they represented.
My dad started Hogwarts in 1971, and was sorted into Gryffindor along with my mother, Alice Laura Jenkins. By the time he left he was a Prefect, Head Boy (1977-1978) and was the winner of the Merlin Award for Defence. He married my mother a year after they left school, and I was born not long after that. During this time, my parents were both present in three of the five major battles of the rise of You-Know-Who, in each of which they faced You-Know-Who personally and each time they survived. They fought alongside some of the great war heros that went down in all the history books: Albus Dumbledore, James and Lily Potter, Alastor Moody and both the Prewitts.
After You-Know-Who's downfall, when everyone thought they were safe, when You-Know-Who's followers, the Death Eaters, were in search of their Master, who they believed to be merely in hiding, some of them captured my parents. Their names were Bellatrix Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange, Gremius Dawlish and Bartemius Crouch. These are the four that were accused, although to this day the case is still open and it is believed by some that there were more people involved.
As it is, my mum and dad were both tortured with the Cruciatus Curse to the point where their minds broke down and they were no longer able to speak. They lost their memories and recognised no one, not even me, their only son. But I think, in the final months of their lives, that they were starting to recognise me. I still held out hope that one day I would be reunited with the two people I've known all my life but have never been able to call my parents because my parents as people were destroyed a long time ago. I have known shells. I have seen their faces, I have spoken their names, I have touched them. It's more than a lot of people have. But call me selfish, I wanted more.
My parents were killed by Bellatrix Lestrange, by her own admittance, a few days ago, or maybe a few weeks, the time is still indeterminate. I don't know if she was the only one, or if there were more people involved - again, the exact details of what happened to my mum and dad aren't even known.
The point is that, even while sane, my mum and dad never gave up. They didn't give up on themselves, on me, on the side they were fighting for. They were heros and I know they'll be remembered as such. I love them.
Bye mum. Bye dad.