An Abridged Collection of Letters Colin Creevey Sent
27 September 1992
Dear Dennis,
I'm not sure you want to hear from me or not, but I have to write you. I know everything has changed, but you're still my best friend and I promised I would send letters and pictures so here you go. I'm still getting used to writing with a quill on parchment. I sort of miss the boring A4s from primary school. And pens. Pens are fantastic, I think.
Anyway, I don't know what I'm trying to say. I'm sorry it took me so long to write you. School is so busy. I have a ton of classes and I spend a lot of my spare time just trying to find them! You'd be surprised what it's like trying to find a classroom when the staircases keep moving.
Remember over the summer when we studied wizarding history and we learned about Harry Potter? Well… guess what! You'll never believe it! Harry Potter is in MY dormitory! Well, he's a year older, so we don't share a room. Just a house. I took a couple pictures for you of him. I tried to get one autographed, but that didn't really work out. Sorry, Dennis!
How is everything going at home? I'm sure it's lonely - I mean, I would be lonely if you were here and I was there. Are you getting on all right with Chris? I know you two row all the time, but he's the best friend you have and friendships are really important.
Magic is awesome - our photographs move! You can see that in the ones I've attached. But it's also really difficult. Who would have thought I'd spend my first year learning how to levitate feathers? Or reading up on famous wizards? (well, only one, really. Professor Lockhart has had the most interesting life. Werewolves, hags, trolls… you name it.)
Anyway, I guess I'll let you go, and I hope you write back soon.
Love,
Colin
1 November 1992
Dear Dennis,
Well, I never heard from you. Maybe you couldn't figure out the owls? I guess that makes sense. Some of the ones here bite, and maybe I didn't check my owl enough before sending him to you.
Some strange things are happening here, anyway. Yesterday, our old caretaker's cat was petrified. (I guess it's kind of like being in a coma?) And actual ghosts attended the Halloween party. Magic isn't all about spells, it turns out.
I don't have too many more pictures for you today, just about thirty or so. I got a detention with Professor Snape (he's honestly the scariest professor I've ever had. Even worse than Mrs. Smith!) for taking my camera to class, so I'm trying to be better about it. But there are just so many interesting things to take pictures of!
Since I don't have too much for you to look at from me today, I attached a copy of the Daily Prophet. It's still strange to have a newspaper where the people in the pictures wave, and the letters are in the weirdest font. I know you're only nine, and most nine-year-olds don't read newspapers, but I thought this might be an exception for you.
I miss you!
Love,
Colin
An Abridged Collection of Letters Dennis Creevey Never Sent
15 November 1992
Dear Colin,
I promised you when you left that I would be upset for the rest of eternity, and I would never write you no matter what. Well… you stopped writing me. It's been two weeks and you normally send three letters a week. I know I never write back, but I actually liked hearing from you. I framed some of your pictures.
I'm not going to send this. I refuse to. So I might as well say what I want.
You probably stopped writing because you and Harry Potter are best friends now, and you don't have time for your boring Mug-wump brother, or whatever you call me. You probably are glad to be rid of me.
But I miss you. I still don't have very many friends here. They think I'm strange. And maybe I am. Mum's calling. Someone's at the door. I guess I'll put this away for now. I'll burn it when I get the chance.
Dennis
15 November 1992, later
Dear Colin,
It was Professor Dumbledore who was visiting. THE Professor Dumbledore. I guess you see him every day, but I haven't seen him since your eleventh birthday. I know it's dumb, but part of me was hoping he would tell me I was magical, too. Yes, even though I'm only nine. It was a dumb thing to think. Good thing you won't be reading this…
Except not such a good thing. Professor Dumbledore stopped by to say that you have been petrified, too. Like that cat you mentioned. And they don't know when you'll be okay again.
I should have written you back. I'm not really angry anymore. I'm sorry, Colin. Please be all right.
Dennis
13 June 1998
Dear Colin,
I did what I could. You know I did what I could, right? The Prophet is supposed to publish those pictures today. The ones I took at the Battle of Hogwarts. I sent them the picture of you, too. It's Muggle. In the wizarding version, the battle rushed on around you and you just lay there, not moving. I couldn't look at it any longer. Ironic, isn't it, that the last picture ever taken of you is being published on your seventeenth birthday?
I keep thinking I should have saved you. I keep thinking I could have, if I just put down your damn camera and found you and fought with you. But I'm not sure you would have let me. I'm fifteen, you know, not nine like I was when I held a grudge about your magic. But I was always your kid brother, huh? I would've been your kid brother when you were a hundred and I was ninety-eight.
Now I have to figure out how to be me. Dennis Creevey. Brotherless.
You died a hero, though. I'm making sure the papers know it, too. Today, everyone will know. And maybe I'll be right there next to Harry Potter, accepting an Order of Merlin on your behalf. Maybe. I hope so. I really hope so.
You deserve it.
Love,
Dennis
