Dear Lucy Weasley aged thirty two years old,

This is from Lucy Weasley, your past self, aged fifteen.

I am in love with Lorcan Scamander.

My sister is in love with Lorcan Scamander.

I'm having difficulties during O . W . Ls. What grades do I get? It's really stressing me out!
Am I married to Lorcan with three kids, two girls and one boy, the boy being in the middle, each two years apart with the names Cassie, Beth and Lucas?

Does Cassie have the same hair as her father?
Am I a professional ballet dancer?

That's what I want to be. Molly says that's silly, though I don't think so.

Molly has been mean lately. I think Lorcan's stressing her out.

And, Mrs Lucy Scamander, who are you?
What do you like?
What is the world like?

Am I a heartbroken mess?*

I wonder what the future is like.

Is Molly still mean?
Does Molly have kids?
Is Molly even ALIVE?

As you can probably I am very curious. #

*That will only happen if Lorcan doesn't marry me, so in that case ignore the questions about Cassie, Beth and Lucas.

#But I am NOT mad, no matter what Molly says!

I sort of hope Molly's dead so Lorcan and I can live a wonderful life together.

It will be perfect.

I HATE O .W. Ls!

Yeah, I just thought you should know that.

Anyway, Mum's nice. Dad's a mess.

I hate Dad.

I hate Molly.

Basically, I hate life.

It's so complicated! I mean, can't Molly just BACK OFF?
Yeah, because Lorcan is MINE!
MINE!
MINE!

Got it?

From yourself,

Lucy Weasley.

17 Years Later…

I take out this note that's been haunting me for ages. It says 'Open me when you're thirty – two'. Today's my thirty second birthday. I tear it open and sit down at my desk.

I was fifteen when I wrote this, so it says. Wow. I can hardly remember it. I only really remember my seventh year and the war. Those are my earliest memories.

I am extremely forgetful. About important things, like work. But I remember stupid stuff, like letters my fifteen year old self wrote. What the hell?

As I read another line, I realise a fatal mistake of mine.

I fell in love with Lorcan, who never chose me or Molly.

He chose some girl he met at a pub.

Then it says that Molly was in love with him.

Too true.

I was having trouble with O . W . Ls.

I passed with flying colours.

I ask myself if I'm married to Lorcan with three kids, two girls, one boy in the middle, each two years apart named Cassie, Beth and Lucas.

I'm not.

I'm married and I do have children, though.

I married Nathan Corner.

We have three children.

Two boys, one girl.

Lucas is the eldest, then Thomas, then Cassandra.

Her nickname is Cassie.

Lucas is ten, Thomas is eight, and Cassandra is four.

I love them more than anything in the world.

Does Cassie have the same hair as her father?

No. She has my hair.

Am I a professional ballet dancer?
Not even close. I work at the Ministry in the International Wizarding Trades and Currency Department, which was installed when I was twenty.

I started work there when I was twenty – five.

I say that Molly thinks it's silly.

I remember that.

Her mocking voice.

Her teasing smile.

Her glasses perched on the end of her nose.

Looking like a bird about to swoop its prey.

Molly was always mean.

Every day.

Was.

And I was a heartbroken mess.

It says that that would've only happened if Lorcan and I broke up.

I was right, I suppose.

But I moved on.

It says to ignore the questions about having kids in that case.

Boy, was I wrong.

Just because I'm not with Lorcan doesn't mean I don't have a family.

It doesn't mean that I'm unhappy.

It says I'm curious, not crazy.

It says Molly said I was crazy.

For once I agree with Molly.

It says that I wished Molly died.

No need to wish.

Molly died.

Sickness killed her.

But that doesn't mean Lorcan and I are happy.

The last time we saw each other was three months ago.

We are sort of friends, so we see each other every so often.

Life isn't perfect.

And, may I say, O . W . Ls were hard.

But I got straight Os.

And an E on Arthimancy.

Mum's nice.

She still is.

Dad's a mess.

He's not anymore.

I hated Molly.

I miss Molly now.

I hated life. I wanted Lorcan.

It doesn't do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.

Does it?

Look at the emotional mess I was.

Molly should back off.

No.

Molly should still be here.

Alive.

Happy.

Healthy.

Not in pain.

I said Lorcan was mine.

He wasn't.

And I don't 'got it', past self.

I don't.

This letter is from my idiotic, self-centred, mean younger self.

And this stupid letter is burning.

Going.

Going.

Gone.