Dear Harry,
Its weird- as I'm writing this, I can see you in the next room, playing with your little toy broomstick and traumatizing Calvin yet again. I swear, you're going to kill that cat one day, and I'm almost 99.9% sure that you're gonna be on that blasted broomstick when you do. You're so obsessed with that thing, its not even funny. At least, not to me. Your father is uneccesarily amused by the whole thing; he's convinced that you're going to go on to become the next Petrova Porksoff or something. Personally, I'd prefer a less dangerous profession. I don't exactly know who this Porksoff person is, but I'm sure he's endured two times more Quidditch related injuries than any normal person ought to in two life times. Dangerous, that sport is. Really, I don't understand people's infatuation with it.

Anyways, my point is that you're still a baby. My baby. I've been writing all of these letters imagining some handsome, strapping young man with an infinite amount of mates and all your O.W.L.s; someone sort of like your father, only less annoying. But the person I'm imagining doesn't exist-not really, not yet. Right now, all thats important to you is your toy broomstick and visits from your Uncle Wormtail, and you haven't gone through any of the stuff I've written about yet. Obviously, you haven't left for school yet (although your dad has already dubbed you a Gryffindor in the making), and you're not old enough to understand that you should be sad about what's happening to us, or any of the other people who we've lost. I don't think you've ever been in love; the only woman you've ever met besides myself is Mrs. Bagshot, and that would be a bit concerning, considering she's nearly ninety years old and all. So now, as I'm getting ready to talk to you about graduation, I'm having a little trouble thinking of what to say. I don't know why this never occured to me before, but I don't know you. At least not in the same way that most mothers know their children; that is, not well enough to give you any useful advice. I have no idea what you might be feeling right now- nervous, excited, nostalgic- because I don't know a thing about the way you deal with stuff like this; the big stuff. I mean, what are the odds that you actually turn into this ideal young wizard that I've always pictured? About zero. All I can really do is share my own experiences and pray that there's a big enough piece of me inside you for it to make a difference.

If you haven't jumped the gun and opened this envelope long before your actual graduation just because you're wondering what I might have to say, which, for the purposes of this letter, I'm going to assume you haven't, then you'll be around seventeen right now. Literally, a man. Its pretty hard to reconcile that with the chubby toddler I see waddling over to terrorize the cat some more right now, but its true. My baby boy is no longer a baby. I'm sure that as you've grown over the years, Hogwarts has come to mean just as much to you as it does to me, your father, your uncles, and the hundreds of generations of students before us. Its odd, but there's just something about that school- never in my life have I met anyone who hasn't spent the best years of their lives there, and I'm willing to bet that the same goes for you, too. I'm not quite sure what it is, I don't think anyone truly knows, but there is a piece of it in all of us, some way that it influenced our lives, and changed us forever. You may be worried that after you leave, the memories of it will begin to fade; that you'll start to forget just how boring Professor Binns' lectures were (even I can't deny it) or how to navigate your way to your common room, but its been four years since I left, and every single memory is still as fresh as paint in my mind. Because Hogwarts- the classes, the grounds, the professors- is a part of me, just like its a part of you, and anyone else who's ever passed through the great double doors into the Entrance Hall on their first day of term, trembling with nerves because some upperclassmen told them that to be sorted they had to fight off a giant mountain troll.

I know I must sound unnaturally attached to a castle; if I'd heard myself talking even in the middle of my time at Hogwarts, say, third year or so, I probably would've been a little bit freaked out, as well, but I honestly believe that everything I went through there made me who I am. Being accepted into that school saved me from a life of endless trite normalcy; the kind that only the likes of Petunia truly approve of. Once I got there, meeting your father and being placed in Gryffindor stopped me going the way Sev wanted; an outcast Slytherin with an obsession for the Dark Arts. If I hadn't been magical, or if my parents had had any qualms about sending me away, or I never stepped into that compartment on the first day of school, or Voldemort never infiltrated our ranks- my life would have gone in a completley different direction. Thats the beauty of the system; it helps you discover who you are, like all great educational institutions do. Its suited to accomodate everyone who enters its doors- no matter what type of blood we have, or what virtues/ vices we possess- and give us a safe place to become ourselves. I can only hope that you had a positive experience there (like I said, I always pictured you with legions upon legions of friends and a Head Boy badge pinned to your front, but that's just me. Maybe I'm byast. I'm also convinced that you're a budding young genius), and to be honest, I don't really doubt it. Even though I don't know exactly what your life was like before hand, or what its like now, I'm sure that Hogwarts found some way to come into it and make it better than it was; to make you better.

I woke up on my last day of term seventh year with mixed emotions- half of me was ecstatic, and I'm pretty sure the other half was clinically depressed. Because while I was excited to finally be done with lessons and all of that- to be going out into the world and starting life for real- it was hard for me to picture life outside of Hogwarts. It had been all I'd known for seven years, after all, and I was worried that the wizarding world wouldn't seem half as magical as it did inside the castle out there. Of course, I was wrong, but at the time I was caught up in the excitement of the day. I lay in bed for almost an hour worrying over what would happen after I crossed the barrier from Platform 9 3/4 for the very last time, until finally the rest of the girls woke up and convinced me to get dressed. That morning was a blur- it just seemed like a series of 'lasts'. The last time I would ever wake up in the castle, the last time I would eat breakfast in the Great Hall; that sort of thing. We didn't have a ceremony, exactly, like in muggle schools-we just went to classes as usual, but we didn't actually do any work. Mostly, we just discussed what our plans were; your dad and Uncle Sirius had been accepted into the auror school, Alice and Frank had as well, but they were planning on marrying before they started training in September. Marley, Dorcas, and I were all volunteering at St. Mungo's (they were getting a flat in London together, but I was moving in with your father) and Emmeline had a job lined up the Ministry. It was just a normal day, but it seemed extremley significant somehow. Needless to say, the 'clinically depressed' side of me was quickly winning out.

I'm too embarrassed to go into too much detail about what happened when the final bell of the day rang. Let's just say there was a lot of crying, and hugging, and I'm pretty sure I knocked Peter over at one point. Wonderful mates that they are, everyone forgave me my breakdown fairly quickly, but I still made them all vow never to speak of it ever again before we boarded the train. We spent the ride to London playing Exploding Snap and sharing sweets from the trolley. It was a surprisingly average end to a surprisingly average day, and while I was a bit underwhelmed at first, I realized that it was just the ideal ending. After almost a decade spent in an enviorment full of talking portraits and moving staircases, it seemed only fitting that the grand finale be a bit more commonplace (or, as commonplace as an enchanted steam train and exploding playing cards can get). When we got to Kings Cross, it got a little more surreal. Suddenly, I wasn't the only one who was begging for everyone to just forget my fits of hysteria; all ten of us lost our grip at one point (I even saw each of the lion-hearted Marauders shed a tear at one point, though they deny it adamantly now). It was really sinking in- none of us would ever see our beloved Hogwarts again- but my tears, at least, weren't ones of sadness. After all, it wasn't like I would forget what happened there, or lose contact with any of the people I'd met, or have my magic taken away or anything else that would merit that kind of anguish. Rather, I was crying for all the memories; for the end of an era.

Because really, that's what this all is. If your not a complete deadbeat (or if you're not planning on living off of the ungodly amounts of galleons that your father's family has saved up over the years) then you'll be getting ready to go to work soon-to become a real grown up. Soon enough, you'll get your own flat and begin cashing your own paychecks, and a little ways down the road, you may even be starting a family of your own(perhaps with that lovely girl I mentioned in the last letter, mmmm?) You're standing on the threshold of what is often called 'real life', and you won't have Dumbledore or Hagrid or McGonagall to help you through it all anymore, or tell you how to handle things. That's not to say you won't have any support; you are, after all, only seventeen, and not a complete adult yet, but its time to start making your own decisions, and flourishing as the amazing young man who those people and so many others have helped you to become. I wish you the best of luck.

Love,
Mum

A/N: That one was pretty short, but ya' know, its a major life event, and I just felt like I shouldn't skip it. I hope you liked it anyways, though, and I'm gonna be annoying and ask you to please please please leave a review telling me what you thought. Have an amazing day, my doves(er...night?)! Mwah!

Disclaimer: I'm not sure if I've been doing this or not...oops. Well, obviously, I don't own Harry Potter. So, ya' know, don't sue me.