I, Daniel Granger, am a very patient man.

In fact, when my daughter writes to me saying that she won't be needing me to collect her from kings cross this year because she is going to attend a wedding,

And although not having seen her since January, I write back and tell her that it is perfectly O.K…. Because I, Daniel Granger, am a patient man.

Even when I arrive to collect her from the Burrow three weeks later, and she announces that Harry Potter will be staying with us for the rest of the summer, because they have "important business" to discuss,

I smile, and tell her how happy I am of his visit, Even though I very much dislike the thought of a teenage boy staying in the house of my teenage daughter, best friend or not.

I do this, of course, because I am a patient man.

And when I barely see my daughter for the next week because she is locked away in her room with him, pouring over books that she brought from school and talking with him in hushed whispers,

I fight the urge to listen in on their secretive conversations, or demand to know what the bloody hell is so important that they must stay up all night talking about it.

And when I wake up to find that both of them have disappeared and that there is only a short note from Hermione telling us that she has gone on some journey to find something, and that it is very dangerous but that we trust her decision to do this.

So with my wife sobbing in my arms, I try to be strong and whisper comforting words to her. And I don't break down, fearing I will never see my daughter's face again, I don't lose my temper and scream curses at Harry Potter, for dragging Hermione into this.

No, I don't do any of these things, for I am trying desperately to be that patient man I pride myself on being.

And eighteen months later, when we hear of her death from molly weasley, and my wife in crying again, hysterically this time, I whisper those comforting words, though they are empty ones now.

And I walk out to the garden and collapse onto the lawn, willing myself to break down, to scream curses, anything that will help me express the excruciating pain that I am feeling.

But I find that I can't, because, I realize as I lie there on the grass, as much as I now hate myself for it, I am a much too patient man.

FIN