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Chapter Three - Harry
Letters Never Sent
Have you ever thought about how much one stupid item can change your life? Well, for me, it was more along the lines of a few items changing my life in many ways. Each one took it farther down a darkening path that, in the end, will determine my entire future. Whether I live to save those whom I love or whether I die, hopefully like my father – standing straight and tall, ready to die if it will spare the others.
Unfortunately, I'm starting to realize that if I die, I won't be the last one he kills. He'll probably kill Ron, Hermione, Ginny, all the Weasleys, the whole Order of the Phoenix. He'll stop at nothing to be the most powerful wizard in the world.
But honestly, I've begun to realize that every year, there had been one object that changed my life forever. In my first year, it was that stone. That tiny crimson piece of rock that could supposedly make you immortal. What if it really didn't make you immortal, and Nicholas Flamel was secretly a being from another world with abnormally long life, and Voldemort had killed me that night, only to discover it was useless? But he didn't. Instead, I got away, the Stone was destroyed, and Voldemort just wanted to kill me even more.
Then, in my second year, there was that stupid diary. That stupid, awful diary. And if it weren't for me, Ginny wouldn't have been sucked into the diary. She wouldn't have almost died. But then again, if it weren't for that diary and the demon living within it trying to kill me, there would still be a monster roaming around the school.
Not that it matters. I'm not going back. No one is.
Then in my third year, it was the time-turner. That was one of the few objects that had a positive impact on my life. Without the time-turner, Sirius would be worse than dead, and Buckbeak would be headless.
In my fourth year, the object that changed my life was the Goblet of Fire. It changed more than just my life, though. It changed everyone else's lives, too. And it also took away a life.
In my fifth year, there wasn't really an object, unless you count dreams as objects. Those stupid, misleading dreams that ended up being the death of Sirius.
And then this year. There were actually seven objects this year. The Horcruxes. But those speak for themselves.
And then, after everything that happened in the last month and a half, I had to go back to Privet Drive.
I hated being there. I hated it. It was the worst thing, knowing that I'd put everyone in danger, and for all the contact I had with the wizarding world while I was rotting away at Privet Drive, everyone I truly cared about could be dead. I didn't want to be there with those goddamn Dursleys
It was worse than just being there, though. It was pretty bad being there just because everything I hated was there. I was always alone with my thoughts. Sometimes I wanted to have some time to think, to calm down, to remember the good things. But most of the time, I wanted the company of other people. Unfortunately for me, the only other people nearby were the Dursleys, and they couldn't be any comfort if they tried.
Usually, my birthday wasn't much of a big event in the Dursley household. The most I ever got was a pair of socks. Once I made friends with Ron and Hermione, I started getting gifts from them on my birthday. I couldn't even look forward to that. We had agreed not to write to each other, for fear that our mail would be intercepted and Voldemort would find out where we were. The Floo Network was dangerous, as well. There was no longer any way to contact any of my friends.
Sometimes, when I was really bored, I'd write letters that I could never send. I took that opportunity to write down the things that I wouldn't actually say to them in person. After all, they'd never see them. Nobody would.
The first person I wrote to was Ron.
Dear Ron,
I don't really know why I'm writing this. It's kind of stupid and immature, since no one will ever see it. It sounds like one of those thing psychiatrists always say to do to help let out your anger. Then again, you probably wouldn't know what a psychiatrist is, so it doesn't really matter.
I don't really know where I'm going after I can leave the Dursleys. As the day draws closer, I try as hard as I can to think of somewhere safe, but nowhere is safe anymore. Goddamnit, what good is there left in this world anymore?
So Hermione's staying at the Burrow with you. Have you snogged her yet? Why am I even bothering to ask, there's no way you'd do something like that. Honestly, Ron, it's pretty easy to tell that she likes you. Just go ahead and tell her how you feel.
It sounds kind of stupid, but I miss you a lot. I know I'll at least be able to see you at Bill and Phlegm's wedding, but that's not nearly enough time to say goodbye.
-Harry
I put the letter in an envelope, wrote his name on it, sealed it, and put it on the corner of my desk, as though I was actually planning to send Hedwig out with it clutched in her beak. Then I started on my letter to Hermione.
Dear Hermione,
Another stupid letter never to be sent. Remember in our second year when you were kind of nervous, thinking that my hearing voices was a bad sign and I was insane? Well, you never know.
I don't really know what to say. I mostly just want to pretend that we were able to keep contact.
Having fun at the Burrow? I bet it's a lot more exciting there than it is here. Basically the only contact I ever get with another living soul is Hedwig, occasionally with a spider that crawls in under the door or something. Tell Ron to hurry it up. He'll know what I mean.
As I already said to Ron, I miss you guys a lot. I hope you're all safe. I don't want you dead on my account.
-Harry
I looked over at Hedwig's cage as I sealed Hermione's letter. She was itching to get out of her cage and deliver it.
"I'm sorry, Hedwig, I can't send this. If you want, you can go out on another hunt," I offered.
She gave a small coo of appreciation. I stroked her beak affectionately. She was the only person in that house who truly loved me, and I was letting her go, too.
I opened the window, let her out of her cage, and watched her disappear on to the horizon. I wished so badly that I could be like her – just fly away from all of my troubles. With my broom, I really could, but Dumbledore wanted me to stay, so I did.
I sat down at my desk again and began the hardest letter of them all – Ginny's.
Dear Ginny – most wonderful, amazing, beautiful Ginny,
You're going to have to forgive me for breaking up with you. You and I both know that this isn't over, that although I had to say goodbye to you for now, I still want to be with you more than anything in the world. But sometimes, what's better for us has to take priority over what we want.
Listen to me, trying to sound like Hermione – rational, smart, making sense all the time. Things like this don't ever make sense.
I just wanted to say that I promise I'll come back for you, once things are better. You were the best thing that happened to me last year. It broke my heart to lose you, but if I had kept you, I might have had a worse case of heartbreak later on. If, God forbid, Voldemort ever found you, I don't know how I'd live.
I guess that's all I can say for now. I've worn myself out writing these stupid letters. I just miss you like hell and I wish more than anything and I know that if you were close enough for me to touch, my life would be infinitely better, despite everything horrible that's going on.
I don't know if I ever told you, but I love you.
-Harry
It took me almost an hour to write that one stupid letter. I put it in the envelope, sealed it, and wrote her name in emerald green ink.
When the Dursleys had left for the night, I snuck downstairs to the fireplace. It took me a while to remember the muggle way to light a fire, but eventually, I figured it out.
First, I tossed in Ron's letter, and then Hermione's. So much for getting them together.
Finally, I threw in Ginny's. That was the one I had wanted to send the most. Instead, I watched my words curling and burning, her name engulfed in flames.