Dear Dad,
Wow, that feels weird to write. Dad. It's like a word in a foreign language or something.
I feel kind of stupid writing this. I don't know what to say to you; how do I even know that you are going to read this? You're dead. Dead people can't read letters their children write to them. But Dumbledore says they can. I don't know what he's on about.
I got here this morning. Dumbledore told me to write a letter to you, and said that Sirius and Remus had already done theirs. He told me to bring it to Remus when I'm done, since I'm not allowed to use magic outside of school.
I just saw Sirius, Dad. He was crying as he walked down the hallway. His only explanation was that he wrote to you.
Sirius seems to cry a lot lately. I don't understand why. Did he cry a lot before, after he broke out of Azkaban and found me, and I just didn't notice? Great, now I feel horrible, like I should have noticed that he's been depressed.
Well, this letter is depressing. Maybe I'll tell you about myself, even though you've probably been watching me and already know everything I am going to tell you.
I'm going into my fifth year at Hogwarts. Last year, I participated in the Triwizard Tournament, and won, though I wish I hadn't. I've faced Voldemort a total of four times and escaped each time. I saved the Sorcerer's Stone, saved Hogwarts from a basilisk, stopped Sirius from having his soul sucked out, and delayed Voldemort from rising from the "grave".
I'm not proud of any of that.
My two best friends are Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Ron's really loyal, and his two older brothers are pranksters; you're their idol. Hermione's smart, she's top in our year. Draco Malfoy and I bicker a lot, though I don't really know why.
My Potions professor is Snape. He's horrible, and he seems to hate me. I don't know why; Remus says it's because I look like you, whatever that means.
Well, that's basically it. Are you going to write back to me? That would really make me happy, you know, because I, er, never actually talked to you before.
Not much else to say. Please write me back. Tell me stories or talk to me about you or Mum. At least tell me what you think of me. Are you proud of me? Because I'm not proud of myself.
Much love,
Harry
Harry folded the paper into quarters, smoothing the creases, before getting off of his bed and going to find Remus so the letter could be sent. In the hall, he passed Ron, who looked quizzically at the paper.
"What's that, mate?"
Harry smiled mysteriously. "A letter to a... old friend."
Next chapter: Severus Snape