January 1st, 1982
The first year Lily isn't here.
Not the first year that I haven't spoken to her, but the first year that all hope of ever reconciling is lost.
Now that the chance to speak with her is gone, I find myself looking back on the decisions I made. How could joining the Dark Lord have ended in any way other than her death? She was Muggleborn, not a half-blood like myself. The Dark Lord would have hunted her down regardless. I thought that perhaps I could take her in and shelter her. Be the hero to her. Win her from The Swine.
Foolish dreams. It's my fault she's dead.
I hope her son is well. Albus hasn't told anyone where he's keeping the boy. He's already famous and not even out of nappies. The papers are calling him "The-Boy-Who-Lived." I can't fathom why Albus told anyone what had happened. It would have made more sense to simply say that the Dark Lord was trapped and slain by clever wards and then bundle the boy off to some trusted ally.
Albus won't lie about it, even if it would protect the boy. How very Gryffendor.
I wonder if he'll take after Lily. I hope so. I miss her.