Rough Draft Letter #1, Theme : Alone
Snape,
I don’t know why I’m writing to you, of all people. We never got along before and I can just imagine how you’d sneer at getting a letter from me. Of course, you’re dead now, so won’t even care. This letter is a waste of time, but no more than anything else since the last battle.
It’s been two weeks and I still don’t know what to say about anything that’s happened. The atmosphere has been almost surreal. I can’t think of a single wizarding family in Britain that didn’t lose someone. I’ve lost track of how many funerals I’ve attended…sometimes two or three in a day. But in spite of all the tragedy, there’s been what Hermione refers to as “a sense of euphoria.” It’s like people don’t even know how to feel.
We buried Fred yesterday…then we went to a parade. After we buried Tonks and Remus, we went to a reception at the Ministry of Magic. That’s how it’s been nonstop: mourn, then celebrate, then mourn again. I don’t even know how I feel anymore. I don’t even know how I’m *supposed* to feel.
Ginny and I had our first fight after Fred’s funeral. I told her that I didn’t understand how people could act this way, how they could celebrate so much death and carnage. She told me I didn’t understand exactly how hard it was to try to live in a world ruled by Voldemort and that however bad my time on the run was, I was still insulated from what it really meant to live under Voldemort’s heel.
She blames me, you know. I think a lot of people do. The rumors are already starting, of course, claiming that I spent my time hiding from Voldemort and abandoning the people who were ready to sacrifice everything. The worst part is that I wonder if they’re right. How many lives would have been saved if I had moved a day earlier? Or a week earlier? Or a month? Is Teddy Lupin going to grow up without parents because I was obsessed with finding answers that didn’t even really matter?
I rejected Fudge and Scrimgeour and their efforts to use me as some sort of rallying point and I don’t regret it for a minute. Now, though, I’m in the very position I spent my life avoiding…the one that you claimed I always sought. I’m in the spotlight. People like Minerva McGonagall and Arthur Weasley are trying to pick up the pieces, both at Hogwarts and in the greater wizarding world. Hermione says that people need to see me right now, they need something to rally around. She wants me to make a few speeches, show up at the right places, and “give the people what they need.” She swears that it’s only temporary and I’ll be able to fade into the background once things are back to normal. I wonder, though…especially since Hermione’s never been a fan of the magical status quo.
You’ll be glad to know that you received a posthumous Order of Merlin First Class. That was what you wanted, right? You were willing to sell out Sirius and ruin the one good thing in my life to get it…
No, that’s not fair. I never knew what you wanted. None of us did, except maybe for Dumbledore and I have my doubts there. He always seemed so benign, as though you were just a wayward son who made a couple of small mistakes…then I saw the penseive and the look on his face when you came back… I don’t think he even had that much contempt on his face when talking to Voldemort.
What was your relationship with him? I always envied the fact that he trusted you so completely, but now I wonder whether it mattered. Did he trust you because he felt some sort of fondness for you or because he knew that he controlled you completely?
I guess it doesn’t matter now. But looking back, you were always alone. Even in your memories with my mother, you two only seemed happy for a short time. I suppose that’s why I’m writing this to you right now. I thought that once Voldemort was dead, something would happen and I would feel some sort of connection to the people around me. Instead, they’re celebrating and mourning while I spend my time feeling that I was somehow cheated because I survived.
I’m looking at my future and wondering if I’ll spend the next hundred or two hundred years feeling alone, even when I’m around the people who should mean the most to me. I look back at your life and I can’t help but wonder if maybe you could somehow give me advice on how to get through this…if you were alive. If I could get you to read this letter in the first place….
It’s not without precedent, though, is it? You couldn’t look at me without yelling and I couldn’t stop hating you long enough to listen. If anyone had asked, I would have sworn that you were the worst teacher at Hogwart’s and that it would be impossible to learn anything from you…yet the Half Blood Prince helped me excel in potions. Now, I wonder what would have happened if you’d ever made me want to listen to what you have to say. Would I feel so alone now? Would you be dead? And would it matter?
-Harry
I don’t know why I’m writing to you, of all people. We never got along before and I can just imagine how you’d sneer at getting a letter from me. Of course, you’re dead now, so won’t even care. This letter is a waste of time, but no more than anything else since the last battle.
It’s been two weeks and I still don’t know what to say about anything that’s happened. The atmosphere has been almost surreal. I can’t think of a single wizarding family in Britain that didn’t lose someone. I’ve lost track of how many funerals I’ve attended…sometimes two or three in a day. But in spite of all the tragedy, there’s been what Hermione refers to as “a sense of euphoria.” It’s like people don’t even know how to feel.
We buried Fred yesterday…then we went to a parade. After we buried Tonks and Remus, we went to a reception at the Ministry of Magic. That’s how it’s been nonstop: mourn, then celebrate, then mourn again. I don’t even know how I feel anymore. I don’t even know how I’m *supposed* to feel.
Ginny and I had our first fight after Fred’s funeral. I told her that I didn’t understand how people could act this way, how they could celebrate so much death and carnage. She told me I didn’t understand exactly how hard it was to try to live in a world ruled by Voldemort and that however bad my time on the run was, I was still insulated from what it really meant to live under Voldemort’s heel.
She blames me, you know. I think a lot of people do. The rumors are already starting, of course, claiming that I spent my time hiding from Voldemort and abandoning the people who were ready to sacrifice everything. The worst part is that I wonder if they’re right. How many lives would have been saved if I had moved a day earlier? Or a week earlier? Or a month? Is Teddy Lupin going to grow up without parents because I was obsessed with finding answers that didn’t even really matter?
I rejected Fudge and Scrimgeour and their efforts to use me as some sort of rallying point and I don’t regret it for a minute. Now, though, I’m in the very position I spent my life avoiding…the one that you claimed I always sought. I’m in the spotlight. People like Minerva McGonagall and Arthur Weasley are trying to pick up the pieces, both at Hogwarts and in the greater wizarding world. Hermione says that people need to see me right now, they need something to rally around. She wants me to make a few speeches, show up at the right places, and “give the people what they need.” She swears that it’s only temporary and I’ll be able to fade into the background once things are back to normal. I wonder, though…especially since Hermione’s never been a fan of the magical status quo.
You’ll be glad to know that you received a posthumous Order of Merlin First Class. That was what you wanted, right? You were willing to sell out Sirius and ruin the one good thing in my life to get it…
No, that’s not fair. I never knew what you wanted. None of us did, except maybe for Dumbledore and I have my doubts there. He always seemed so benign, as though you were just a wayward son who made a couple of small mistakes…then I saw the penseive and the look on his face when you came back… I don’t think he even had that much contempt on his face when talking to Voldemort.
What was your relationship with him? I always envied the fact that he trusted you so completely, but now I wonder whether it mattered. Did he trust you because he felt some sort of fondness for you or because he knew that he controlled you completely?
I guess it doesn’t matter now. But looking back, you were always alone. Even in your memories with my mother, you two only seemed happy for a short time. I suppose that’s why I’m writing this to you right now. I thought that once Voldemort was dead, something would happen and I would feel some sort of connection to the people around me. Instead, they’re celebrating and mourning while I spend my time feeling that I was somehow cheated because I survived.
I’m looking at my future and wondering if I’ll spend the next hundred or two hundred years feeling alone, even when I’m around the people who should mean the most to me. I look back at your life and I can’t help but wonder if maybe you could somehow give me advice on how to get through this…if you were alive. If I could get you to read this letter in the first place….
It’s not without precedent, though, is it? You couldn’t look at me without yelling and I couldn’t stop hating you long enough to listen. If anyone had asked, I would have sworn that you were the worst teacher at Hogwart’s and that it would be impossible to learn anything from you…yet the Half Blood Prince helped me excel in potions. Now, I wonder what would have happened if you’d ever made me want to listen to what you have to say. Would I feel so alone now? Would you be dead? And would it matter?
-Harry