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Dear Sev,
Every time I see you walk past the house and glance at my window, I feel an overwhelming urge to run downstairs and apologize. But then I stop myself, unsure of what to say or how to start, and I wonder If I’m even the one who should apologize.
I’ve only been home for a few days of the summer holiday, and already, there are so many moments that feel incomplete without you. Petunia is as insufferable as ever, making her usual snobbish remarks. I can’t help but imagine you laughing at her absurdity. Did you know there are different styles of tablecloths for different occasions? Apparently, the one I was ironing was wrong for a summer afternoon tea.
But that’s the only tablecloth our family has besides the one we use for Christmas so I think Petunia is being difficult on purpose again.
The other day, a new bird landed in the garden—one with bright blue feathers and a strange chirp. I just know you’d have rattled off its name effortlessly, saving me from thumbing through every book in the library trying to figure it out.
Maybe we need this time apart. Maybe a break is what we both need right now. We’ve been friends for so long. Perhaps it has been too long without pause, and the cracks are showing.
A summer apart might give us space to think, to breathe, to figure out where we stand.
But it doesn’t have to be forever, Sev. Not if we’re both truly sorry. Not if we can find a way to fix this.
Always,
Lily
Dear Petunia,
I don’t understand why you left for your typing course in London without saying goodbye. It really hurt, you know. You could’ve at least said something, even if it was just a quick “Good luck with school” or “See you later.”
I don’t know if you’re angry with me or if you just didn’t care about my feelings, but either way, it’s been bothering me ever since you left.
Things at home feel so strange now. Mum and Dad are constantly whispering like they’re hiding something. I’ve tried asking them what’s going on, but they just brush me off with vague answers. I’m almost certain Dad isn’t going to work anymore, but when I bring it up, they act like I’m imagining things. Instead, they tell me to go spend time with my friends.
Except, Tuney, the fact is. I don’t think I have friends in town anymore.
And about Sev, I hate to admit it, but you were right. He’s not nice. Not really.
He’s just good at pretending when it suits him. Looking back, there were so many times I should’ve seen it, but I didn’t want to believe it. Now I feel so stupid like I’ve been defending someone who didn’t deserve it.
It makes me so angry. How many other things have you been right about? Why was I so wrong about him, about everything?
I’ll have to come to London sometime this summer to pick up my school supplies. Would it be possible to meet for lunch or tea? I’d really like to see you, even if it’s just for a little while.
I miss how things used to be.
Love,
Lily
Dear Potter,
Why are you always so bloody confident? Do you ever doubt yourself, even for a moment? Or is it just part of who you are? So sure of yourself that nothing ever seems to shake you.
How do you manage to have so many friends? People seem to flock to you, and I can’t figure out how you do it.
And how do you know when someone is truly your friend? Is it a feeling, or do you just trust your instincts? I don’t think I’ve ever been good at that. Sometimes I wonder if I’ve been completely wrong about everyone I’ve ever met.
The ones I thought I could count on.
And the ones I didn’t think I could count on.
I think I’ve been wrong about everybody.
About everything.
I envy you, you know. Everything about you seems so effortless. Your confidence, your friendships, and the way people look up to you. I don’t understand how you make it all seem so easy when I feel like I’m always second-guessing everything.
-Lily
Dear Sev,
Our relationship was never really good, was it? I think I’ve been trying to convince myself it was for longer than I’d like to admit.
It’s not that I didn’t enjoy being your friend. There were moments, many of them, that I’ll always cherish. I think that’s why I held on for so long, even when it became clear that things were changing and not for the better.
But lately, I’ve realized something that’s been hard to admit, even to myself. I don’t like the person I became when I had to defend your actions. I don’t like the way I’d excuse or ignore the things you said and the things you did because it was easier than confronting you or losing you.
Honestly, I don’t like pretending to be okay with things that contradict everything I believe in.
It’s too important to me to stay silent about it anymore.
For the longest time, I thought you were the only one who truly understood me. But trying so hard to be the person you approve of isn’t helping me understand myself. If anything, it’s making me hate myself, and I don’t think that’s what good friends are supposed to do.
Best,
Lily
Dear Potter,
I don’t know why I’m writing this.
I have no one else to write to.
So I’m pretending to write a letter to you again. I can’t stand to write Sev or Petunia’s name at the moment.
This is ridiculous. There is no reason you’d care about how lonely I am this summer.
But something about you makes me think that maybe you would care.
I just wish you weren’t so insufferably annoying all the time. It would make this a lot easier.
-Lily
Dear Potter,
He stopped walking by my house every day.
I know I wanted him to leave me alone, but it made me sad to realize that he had given up.
He was more than a friend.
I don’t think you are supposed to give up on family.
I’m starting to think something must be wrong with me. I must be difficult to love for a reason.
Tuney invited Mum and Dad to see her flat in London, but she said the flat would be too small for me to come as well. So Mum went by herself, and Dad and I went to the botanical garden. It was nice of him to stay with me but I feel bad that he didn’t get to see Tuney’s flat too.
-Lily
Dear Potter,
My dad died.
Mum won’t get out of bed. She barely says anything, and I don’t know how to help her.
Sev was at the funeral. He stood behind a tree, watching from a distance. For a moment, I thought he might come over, say something, but he didn’t. And honestly? I’m not sure if I would have wanted him to.
Petunia’s already gone back to London. She said she couldn’t afford to miss her typing course. I think it was just an excuse. She’s never been good at sticking around when things get difficult.
My dad was a mechanic for airplanes during the war. The Muggle one, in the forties.
After that, he worked at a garage here in Cokeworth. He was a good dad. A kind man. But there was always a sadness about him. Mum used to say it was because he saw too many of his friends die during the war, and he could never stop feeling guilty for surviving when they didn’t.
I guess that guilt finally got to him.
Now I’m worried about Mum. She’s so quiet. So still. I don’t know how to reach her. I don’t even know if I can.
-Lily
Dear Potter,
Gerald Bones from the Ministry came to the house again.
Apparently, I got dinged for underage magic. Again.
This time, I was just trying to make my mum smile. She’s been so down lately, and I thought a little magic might cheer her up. I made flowers bloom in her teacup. It was harmless, really. But of course, good old Gerald was knocking on our door and handing me an official notice before I even had a chance to explain.
I fail to see how a simple flower charm in the privacy of my mum’s bedroom threatens the Statute of Secrecy.
Gerald kept calling me Little Darling. He’s lucky I didn’t hex him.
This is the fourth time Gerald has given me a notice. He told me if it happened again, I could be expelled. Expelled. I’ve never been so scared in my life. Hogwarts means everything to me.
It’s so frustrating. I know you and your friends do magic at home all the time, and I bet none of you ever get in trouble for it. Perks of coming from wizarding families, right? You have magic woven into your everyday lives. For me, it’s like I’m constantly walking a tightrope, always afraid of stepping out of line.
Sometimes it’s hard being Muggle-born. Don’t get me wrong, I love my family. I’m proud of where I come from, and I wouldn’t change it for anything. But there are moments when I feel like I don’t quite fit into either world. Too much magic for one, not enough for the other.
And with everything that’s happening with the war, it feels like Muggle-borns have targets on our backs. Like we’re being watched even more closely, waiting for us to make a mistake.
Anyway, I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. But I’m not really telling you anything. Because this will just go on the pile of letters I haven’t sent this summer.
-Lily
Dear Potter,
I never thanked you for sticking up for me.
I’m not about to thank you for not using the M-word. That would feel absurd. No one should be praised for basic decency. It’s the bare minimum, really.
But even so, I’ve noticed that you go beyond just avoiding it. You make a point of speaking out, and that’s something worth acknowledging.
You don’t just silently disagree with the muggle hate that goes around school these days, you challenge it. You stand up, even when it’s uncomfortable or when others are content to stay quiet.
That takes courage, and I admire it. Not many people are willing to draw that kind of attention to themselves, especially over something that doesn’t directly affect them.
I wish more students were as vocal as you are about standing up for what’s right. It’s something I think about a lot, especially now, with how things are changing, the war seems more public than ever before.
It feels like we’re on the edge of something bigger, and voices like yours matter more than ever.
Of course, it’s also a shame you’re so infuriating the rest of the time. If only you could be less, well, you.
-Lily
Dear Potter,
I saw the story about the mass murder in the Daily Prophet. I can’t stop thinking about it.
This summer, I had to get my own subscription since I’m not getting the papers from Severus anymore. It was more complicated than I expected, trying to figure out how to sign up without an owl to send a letter to the office. I ended up taking the train to London just to go to Diagon Alley and sort it out in person.
Do you know if there are any wizarding villages closer to me? I’d feel like such a dunce for making the trip all the way to London every time I needed something, and there was a village closer to me this whole time. You’d know, wouldn’t you? You live in one. How many are there in Britain, anyway?
But none of that really matters compared to what’s been on my mind. I can’t stop seeing the photographs of those children’s bodies. It’s haunting me. How could anyone do something so horrible?
Do you think this will ever stop? Or is this just the start of something even worse?
I feel so powerless sitting here, reading about these things from a distance. I want to do something. I just don’t know what.
I’d like to talk to you about it.
-Lily
Dear Potter,
I’ve been thinking about you a lot this summer.
It’s strange, isn’t it? This was the summer my sister moved away, and I stopped talking to my best friend. You’d think my thoughts would be full of them. Asking myself what I should have said, and what I should have done differently, but instead, you’re the person I can’t seem to stop thinking about.
I don’t even know why. Maybe it’s because that fight was so bad, and I keep replaying it in my mind. And the more I think about it even though I don’t regret the things I said to you, I don’t think you were the one I was truly angry at.
I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with these thoughts.
Either way, you’re on my mind.
-Lily
Dear Potter,
One memory keeps coming back to me: the time you helped those third years who got lost walking back from Hogsmeade. I don’t think you realized anyone was paying attention, but I saw it. It was such a simple, kind thing to do, and it stuck with me.
And then there’s how you support Remus. You help him with his illness without hesitation or judgment. People say mean things about him around the halls, so I know not everyone would be so accepting, but you are. That kind of loyalty and compassion is rare, and I admire it more than I can say.
I wish the person I catch glimpses of, he one who’s thoughtful and selfless, was the version of you everyone got to see.
I think I’ve misjudged you. Or I let the qualities that annoy me outshine the better parts of you. The loud, confident, show-off persona you wear for the world. It’s almost like armor. I don’t really know the person behind it, but I think I’d like to.
I also overheard you and Sirius talking in the library once. I know you invited him to stay with your family over the holidays when he ran away from home. That kind of generosity, opening your home to a struggling friend, is something not everyone would do. You have this way of taking care of people, of making them feel safe, and it’s, well, it’s something special.
-Lily
Dear James,
I’d like to start over this year. A clean slate, a fresh beginning for a new term.
I want a new first impression, one that’s fairer, more honest.
I think I can be a better judge of character this time.
I think you might be worth it.
-Lily