Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I'm not JKR.
Seven years ago my daughter left for a world I never knew existed and now she has left to save that world and this one from some evil I cannot even understand. For seven years I have had to learn of my daughter's life through messages scrawled on parchment. At some odd time, usually just after supper, a stately owl would deliver the messages. I would hastily unroll it and find out what that week's events were.
"Dear Mum and Dad…I'm in Gryffindor a house of brave lions and courage…I am so glad I studied before coming here…top grades…" Those first weeks had little to say of friends just books, the library, classes, professors. Then one day, just after the start of November, I opened the window to let in the owl and a gust of cold, sharp autumn wind caused me to shiver.
"Dear Mum and Dad…Harry and Ron…Honestly, they never study!...We are thick as thieves now…Quidditch…" From that letter on, each carried news of the two boys I now know she loves so dearly. Each letter told enough to satisfy a mother's curiosity. Each letter left just enough out to feed a mother's worry. For between the lines written of school and Quidditch there was something haunting her, even then.
"Dear Mum and Dad…Extra time in the library on a special project…Working with Ron and Harry…difficult puzzle to solve…can't say much about it now…tell more later…" That later never came, however, and I was left with my worries.
Over the years I learned to accept that my daughter and her friends were the center of attention and as such fell into the sights of this evil presence. I accepted it as one must any immutable act of fate. My acceptance did not mean I was apathetic. My worries increased and I watched as my daughter became more and more dedicated to this other world's war.
"Dear Mum and Dad…Can't say much about things right now…I'm okay…We're getting there…Ron and Harry say hello…Love you…" Every letter now made sure to say she loved us. She and I both knew each letter might be the last, though such was never stated.
"Dear Mum and Dad…Quite tired…Glad I worked so hard in charms…Love you…Ron and Harry say hello…"The letters became shorter and shorter. The time between owls increased. With each day that passes, my worry grows. In turn I know my husband worries about me.
"Dear, come to sleep now. It is long past time. We have to be at the office early tomorrow. She's doing what she needs to do and we have to do what we need to do. We may not be saving the world, but tomorrow holds work for us too. Come sleep, tomorrow will come with its own worries."
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I wake early and pull my bathrobe over my nightgown. The chill spring morning seems to have sunk into my bones. I go to the kitchen to make some tea. The clouds in the east are just beginning to brighten to a pale purple hue. I reach into the cupboard to find the tea. While my back is turned from the window a small pecking is heard. A bright snowy owl is sitting majestically on the ledge. In the moment between the "Dear Mum" and the "Ron and Harry send their love" I find my daughter has grown up. The morrow has brought its own worries, no longer of a war, but of a wedding. Unlike the worries of the night bringing tears of fear the worries of the morning bring tears of joy.