A woman gazed outside as the little girl flew up and down across the garden on her broom, laughing hysterically with glee at the sensation she received each time she dived; always pulling up at the last second before crashing.
It was quite a sight. The girl herself was beautiful and her auburn locks followed behind her as she flew. Even from a distance you could distinguish those incredibly bright eyes. Her cheeks, nose and ears were rosy on her pale skin. And her clothing matched perfectly with the garden's bright colour display of flowers and green. The bright sun only made her hair look even more of a fiery gold shade. And the little pond on the background reflected the sun on her as she flew next to it.
The woman beamed towards the child, distant in her own thoughts. It was a long time since they had been this happy. But as her mother had told her once; Happiness can be found in good time, but duty comes first.
And as the woman was already done with duty, it was time for fun and relaxing, one of the reasons why they had decided to live here.
Ever so abruptly her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of fluttering wings. She looked up, and was right at the thought that it may have been an owl. She frowned at it. They hardly ever received mail.
The owl dropped the letter just at the steps of the house's porch the woman had been leaning against. And her frown grew deeper as she noted the stamp on the letter.
Hogwarts. She'd recognize that stamp anywhere. She gulped as she kneeled to pick it up.
It was addressed to the girl. Her stomach seemed to drop. She looked up and saw that the owl was staring at her with big yellow eyes. She sighed.
''Wait a second'' She was pondering if she should let the owl in or feed it out side. She decided to let it in. After all…It must have traveled a long way.
She opened the door and stood aside to let it inside, the owl tilted its head curiously.
''Oh, err… Would you like to come in for some food?'' She asked, feeling slightly stupid for speaking to an owl. But the owl seemed to have understood.
He flew down from where he was situated and started wobbling clumsily into the house. The woman giggled slightly, she sure did love owls, and they could be so cute apart from intelligent.
She walked into the kitchen and gave the grey owl a bowl of water accompanied by owl treats that she had bought, in the strange case that they'd receive post.
All of a sudden she realized that the girl was standing next to her looking expectant.
''Oh, have we received mail?'' She asked looking at the owl.
The woman gulped and pulled out the letter, her hands shaking slightly.
The girl also seemed to have recognized the stamp.
''What are you waiting for?'' She asked excitedly ''Open it!''
The woman sighed and started to rip it open. She knew what was coming next.
The girl started to read it out loud.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
Headmistress: Minerva McGonagall
(Order of Merlin First Class)
Dear Miss. Weasley,
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Please find enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later
than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Neville Longbottom,
Deputy Headmaster.
The girl squealed and started jumping up and down with thrill.
The woman was staring at her sadly. She was rather joyful for the girl, but she also knew what had to come with this. Her own mother had said so.
A bit longer can't hurt anyone, right? I mean…The girl was so ecstatic, why should I ruin the moment. The woman thought as she smiled at the girl.
One month later
She was absolutely ecstatic. Finally! She had been waiting for this moment for an eternity. She loved her mother dearly but it was rather hard for her to socialize when she barely ever saw her family or other children. It seemed that her mother was slightly over protective. She could understand that, with war and all…But she couldn't wait to meet knew people.
But sometimes panic took the best of her and she started thinking more than she should at night, that usually makes you really nervous and it usually doesn't allow you to sleep in the end. She thought that maybe people wouldn't like her so much…What if she started behaving in a strange way? After all…She didn't know how she was supposed to act around other children or teens.
She shook that thought out of her head. She had to keep on the positive side, after all this time waiting, there was no way she was going to chicken out.
She was making a list of things that she'd like or need to take with her to Hogwarts when someone knocked at her bedroom door.
''Come in, Mum!'' She said smiling to herself.
''Hi, honey'' She said giving her a warm smile.
The girl studied her mother's gaze. She had a strange look in her eyes. She had seen it before, it was the same look that people had when they were preparing to tell something important, maybe not unpleasant. But yes, important.
Her mother sat next to her and fondled her head warmly. She kept smiling at the girl, as though trying to assure her of something, or maybe just trying to assure herself.
''You do know I love you, right?'' She asked with a slightly bunged up nose, which indicated she had been crying.
''Of course Mum! I love you too'' The girl said patting her back. The last thing she wanted was an emotional mother. She had never seen her mother cry, and she didn't want to see it now.
The girl kept looking at her mother expectantly.
Finally, the woman recovered her composure. She looked at her in a this-is-a-serious-matter sort of way and started the conversation.
''I-I have something for you…'' She said stuttering slightly. ''I was going to tell you myself, but…I can't find the words really. And I really didn't mean for it to take that long, but… I just couldn't…I'll understand if you're mad at me after this.'' She said, almost in tears.
The girl looked at her, worried. ''Is it grave?'' She asked slightly anxious. ''Is everything ok? No one has died right?'' She asked.
The woman gave a wet chuckle ''No silly! It's nothing that bad...'' But she seemed lost in words. So the girl continued the conversation for her.
''What is it you have to show me?'' I asked, curious now.
The woman handed out a letter. A rather bulky one actually, the person who wrote this card seemed to have written around five pages of paper and squashed them in the envelope.
I stretched out my hand and stared at it for some seconds. Her mother seemed to be fidgeting with the hem of her summer dress, and fighting the urge to snatch it away. She sighed and decided to go out to leave the girl some privacy.
''I'll be in the kitchen…I-if you need…Something…''She trailed of in words and gave up. She closed the door quietly behind her.
The girl looked at the letter again, uncertain if she wanted to read it or not. How much would a few (or loads) of words change her life? She really didn't want it to change, she was happy exactly as she was. Could she live a lie for the rest of her life? If that's what it was. Then again...Curiosity could also destroy her life, it could be one of those things that her mother gave lots of importance to and the girl couldn't give a damn about. And if that was the case, she would be living a life in which she thought that there was an awful lie involved.
She gave up. Curiosity was by far bigger than her anxiety. So she opened the letter, careful not to break the envelope.
My darling Rose,
I know that by the time you've read this letter I will be by far gone. I would definitely not reproach you for hating me, but I'm not as strong as you may think. Actually I'm not as strong as anyone out there may think.
Right now, I'm afraid it's you and me against the world, just you and me, my darling. A world in which purebloods and muggleborns do not muddle up, mix, unite... (Whatever term you may want to use) I learnt that at the tender age of seventeen, and so did your father.
Love is never fair; at least it wasn't in our case. And I'm afraid that it was your brave father who was to pay with the circumstances.
Right now, I'm weak and as vulnerable as I could ever get, like you, if not more...
I'm writing this letter to tell you the truth. Hopefully, by the time you read this letter, you'll be old and mature enough to understand why I did all these things and why I felt these things.
I'm not going lie to you. Like my mother says, ''Cross my heart and hope to die, If I ever tell a lie.''. Of all the things you may find in this letter it will not be lies.
I have to admit that, the first time I saw you, I felt the same thing that I felt when you were inside me. Only sorrow and resentment…Because you were alive when your father wasn't, you were some sort of guilt in the form of a little human that was growing inside me, and I couldn't do anything to prevent that.
You used to mean, hope, excitement, thrill, pride…When your father was alive. But then he was murdered, having to choose between me and him, or me and you.
But don't you fret, my sweet. I obviously do love you and I would ever so gladly kill for you. It's just…I can not continue living when; whenever I look or glance at you I only feel guilt. I just know I shouldn't feel that when I gaze at you. I should feel, pride, honour, love, thrill…And all those other wonderful things a parent should feel when they look at their child. But I don't feel guilty just 'cause of the fact that we chose your precious life to your father's, but because I know you'll never have the life we wish you had had, even though we fought so much for it, fighting for nothing.
And I also find it impossible to look at you without seeing your father, but I still can't take my eyes of you (does that even make sense?).
At the moment; you have fiery golden locks, even at you tender age! Green-blue eyes, those are intensely bright and deep. I reckon that the greenish colour comes from the fighting of our genes, imagine! Dark brown eyes against bright blue eyes, I guess your father was the winner in that one.
You have my podgy nose though. My nose has always been rather curvy and round, but it's always had that effect that made it look like it was pointing upwards. My nose looks rather funny and cute on a baby; and it looks adorable on you, Rose.
You also have my strong forehead that makes you look intelligent. I bet your top at the class, but you're also witty and good at chess. Am I right? There is just so much that I don't know about you, Rosie.
You also have the shape of my eyes! Isn't it great, my flower? It's also rather bizarre. It's like seeing what I would look like with light eyes, I guess I wouldn't look too bad… But the shape and the colour of your eyes look gorgeous and beautiful on you.
At the moment you have no freckles, but I suppose you get them when you're older. But you do have his pale complexion, which makes me guess that you're ears, nose and cheeks will go red easily.
In addition, you have your father's cheekbones and lips, ever so curvy and soft.
What more can I say? You are the perfect mix. So much like us, yet you don't look like us. You're your unique self. Fifty percent me, fifty percent him; and a hundred percent yourself.
I know parents usually say this when they see their children for their first time…But you, Rose, truly are what I would call, perfect.
In every single way, you are the perfect mix.
Not a mudblood and not a pureblood, but at the same time you are both.
And the truth is,
You're either.
And the truth is,
You're neither.
You're new and special and different and individual and…Yourself. Maybe that's what we all need; to be mixed and shaken and stirred as vigorously as possible until ''pure'' and ''mud''' as labels become meaningless.
At the same time that I see hope in you, I'm rather worried. I do not know if a world like this will be ready for something as beautiful and special as you. I do not know if being both, favors' you or not. I'm sure it can be practical…Using that advantage the proper way. But I do hope that one day you'll find your identity. Or even better, that you can just be yourself, the perfect mix you are; one day.
Just be yourself. It sounds so lovely when you say it like that. But it is so much more complicated than that. If everyone could just be their self; I guess there wouldn't have been any kind of wars through history. Because wars have always been caused by exactly what's good for us; difference. It doesn't mater if it's a matter of religion, or skin colour, or amount of money… The excuse is that they are different.
But what I wish for, and what is, are worlds apart. I learnt that the hard way.
I do not really know what to say, there is so much I'd like to say and so little time. In times like these my old time-turner could definitely come in handy!
Well…I assume you already know you're a witch? If not, I also assume that I scared the shit out of you; as your dear father would have rightly said.
I'm not sure who you're living with right now…But I presume it's with your aunt, or maybe someone in you father's family?
I would have left you ever so kindly at my parents' place. But it's not safe for you in the muggle world, not for now at least.
I also presume that you know who I am by now?
Then again, I assume and presume too much for my own taste, as you may have noticed.
I'm also going to tell you the truth, a luxury that your uncle wouldn't have dreamt of, by the way.
I want you to know who the responsible of your father's death is (if he's still alive). And I'm afraid that it's someone very close to our family; but only by blood, as by heart he's only a coward that never belonged to our side.
His name is Percival Ignotius Weasley. Does it sound familiar? Probably not.
I'll also explain why your father had to choose between his life and yours. You see… P.I.Weasley worked at the ministry in times when Voldemort, the Dark Lord, You-Know-Who…And many of his other names; had taken over the Ministry of Magic.
So, P.I.W decided to become a death eater, with the lame excuse of being thirsty for power and recognition (Something hard to get in a family of nine).
And you'll wonder…What the hell I am trying to get to?
Well, it all happened on Halloween. The OotP (ask someone you know what that is) sent your father and me into hiding when we discovered that I was pregnant. But on Halloween night some death eaters discovered our hiding spot. And your father killed the three out of five, so we managed to escape.
A week later your father was arrested for the murder of three stinking death eaters. When your father privately explained to P.I.W that he was merely trying to defend his wife (aka, me), Percival was disgusted by the fact that I mudblood had entered his family line. And he was terrified that the word would spread. He was even more terrified when he found out that I was one month old. What a disgrace for him! Dirt in the actual blood line! So he decided to make a trade.
Your father would be set free in the blink of an eye, if I opted for abortion, changed my name and told everyone I was a pureblood. Or, we could have you, in which case your father would be sentenced to death.
I guess you know our decision.
I am not trying to make you feel guilty, and it'll never be your fault what happened to us. For you are, and never forget this, the future's hope. Unique and special, shining with magic even at your young age.
And we are merely the people who fought to keep you alive. And I'm glad to say that, at least, we succeeded there.
You'll see through your life that you'll have many partners, guiders, friends…And people that no mater what, will always stand by your side. Because, as you can see, you are, the hope of tomorrow, the hope of the future, the hope of centuries that have fought for this moment, you truly are ''The Chosen One''.
You are; Ronald Bilius Weasley and Hermione Jean Granger-Weasley's only descendant. But you truly are worth more than seven descendants put together.
Forever Yours,
Mum.