Prologue

Harry simply couldn’t believe it.

It was all over.

It was the end. Voldemort was gone, truly gone forever, and it felt to Harry like he was living a different life. All of them had survived – Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna – and Ginny. They were alive, and Voldemort was not, and Harry had never, ever, been this happy.

“Happy birthday, Harry,� murmured a half-asleep Ginny from his arms, “Love you.�
“Love you too, Gin,� he replied, covering her shoulder with the quilt.

He could see Ron and Hermione stretched at the other end of the room, together at last. He could hear Neville’s snores from another corner. And Luna – well Luna had taken a fancy to some ‘nice-smelling’ carpet at the other end of the house.

The other end of Godric’s Hollow. Somewhere, someone had told him that when his parents were killed, Godric’s Hollow had been destroyed.

Someone was wrong.

They had been there the whole day, and Harry had finally been able to discover his parents. He had been through nearly every room in the house, friends by his side, all of them crying as they uncovered memory after memory. His parents’ photos had been the most vivid – photos of them, photos of Harry, photos of the Order. Ever room seemed full of life, as though the house’s owners were just playing a trick, getting ready to jump out at them at any moment.

He had not been into his parents’ room. He hadn’t dared. It was funny, in a sick, twisted way. Funny that even after all the strength he had had to muster to fight the most evil being on the planet, he was still too weak to enter a room.

Now he felt ready.

Slowly getting up from the sofa-bed so as not to disturb Ginny, he walked through the darkness. Through the living room door, across the hall, past the front door, up the stairs. Turning left, he passed a bathroom, and then with another left he saw the door of their room. Wooden, old-fashioned, and resolutely closed.

His hand looked odd as he stretched it out before him. He could hardly feel it; it seemed dismembered, being controlled by a willpower outside of himself.

And then he was in.

The first thing to hit him was the smell. He didn’t know what he had expected, maybe the lingering smell of rotting wood, or the smothering scent of something covered in dust, but not this.

Not perfume.

As the smell of what must have been his mother’s perfume passed through him, tears started to wet his cheeks. Selfishly, he wished he had brought Ginny with him.

The bed was the largest object in the room, a double bed.

He switched the light on.

The room was painted yellow, not a bright yellow, a creamy yellow. It was small, and the bed took up most of it, but on either side there were two desks. One, Harry presumed, was his father’s, with quills and blank parchment lining the edges.

But it was the other one he was drawn to. This one had definitely belonged to his mother. It was a vanity table, a pretty wooden thing with a mirror in the middle. On the table were two things – perfume and a make-up bag.

He walked over, sat down. Unable to resist, he looked through the make-up bag, and for the second time wished that Ginny were here to help him identify it all. Leaving it open, he turned to the perfume and sprayed some into the air, adding to the smell already permeating the room.

The unknown smell of his mother was too much for him to bear, and he collapsed onto the floor, sobbing. His head hit a handle as he went down, making him sit up straight again, tears still streaming.

There was a drawer.

Pulling it open, he saw that inside was a bundle of envelopes. Feeling that he had nothing to lose, he took them out, and looked at the front of the first one.

The two words on the front made it clear that this was a discovery even more important to him than the discovery of the last Horcrux.





Dear Harry.






31st July 1980
Dear Harry,
Before you, I didn’t know that human beings could be this small. Your forearm is about the size of my finger.

Your father boasts about how you look so much like him – he never quite got rid of that streak – but you have my eyes, the exact same shape, the exact same colour.

Even though you have only been born a few hours, even though we are still in such a state that we are still at hospital and I am writing this on bad quality hospital notepaper, James (your dad) has been called away for the Order. Apparently it’s urgent, and there’s suspicion of a traitor in our midst. I told him not to go, that we’re supposed to be in hiding, but he didn’t really have a choice.

I wish you didn’t have to know about any of this. I wish it wasn’t so, but you, my dear, have been born into a world of terror, especially for us. It’s best you know now – He’s looking for us. We don’t know why, not exactly. We’ve defied Him, alongside the Order, three times before, but this time feels different. Dumbledore says not to leave the house, that it is too dangerous. I suppose you could say that we have ‘gone into hiding’, although I personally am refusing to use the term. Lily Evans has never hid, has never run away, and I tell you now that she never will.

Petunia should be coming to see you soon, although I doubt she will. You don’t have a lot of family, my dear – mine have all denounced me and your father’s were mostly killed by Him while we were still at Hogwarts.

Ah, Hogwarts. If there’s one thing I want for you, baby boy, it is for you to go to Hogwarts. It’s a beautiful place, full of good magic, but more importantly, full of friendship, and full of love.

I love you.

Lily


14th August 1980
Dearest Harry,
Well, it’s your fault I haven’t written in so long. Why, oh why, do you have to cry so much? Just fall asleep! It’s not exactly rocket science…

Anyway, I’m glad you’re better from that bout of croup you had last week. It was so, so frustrating to have to ask other people to go out for me, to get medicine for you and suchlike. Being so cooped up is taking its toll on all of us, but your father is taking it the worst of all. He found Hogwarts confining, he must be going mad in this place.

Godric’s Hollow. I loved it when we first came. Who wouldn’t? But I come to hate any place I have to stay in too long. I feel so guilty that you haven’t been out. We can’t even go out into the garden during the day, so the best I can do for you is open a window and hold you next to it, but then it can’t be a window facing the road of the garden, only the one that opens onto a wall. So many restrictions!

But you, my dear, you are our new lease of life. The living room is really quite large and even though you can’t hold your head up, let alone move around, I can just tell it’s your favourite room.

James is calling me, dear. I’ll leave you sleeping, although I’m sure that won’t last.

Lily



1st September 1980
Dear Harry,
You are just about a month old, and we have spent too many months here. Your skin is so pale, Harry, and I cannot help but connect it to the lack of sunshine you’re getting.

But on, now, to better news. Arthur and Molly came to see us last week, with Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred and George in tow. That family seems so happy together – I hope that when the time is right, you will one day have a little brother or sister. And they will hopefully be less precocious and mean than my sibling.

But the time is not right. Molly and Arthur brought the terrible news today that Alice and Frank have had to go into hiding, just like we have. The security on them is not as tight and we are told that He is concentrating on us for the moment, but I know Alice and she will be going insane.

Just like your father.

I am getting increasingly worried about him. He has disappeared twice to date, coming home in the small hours to tell me he was ‘out’ and ‘not to nag at him so much’. You are the only one I can confide in now and, seriously, if we have to put up with much more of this I can see our relationship beginning to deteriorate.

And I want that NOT to happen so much, Harry. I was so ignorant, so stupid to deny how much I loved him until our last year – our last year at Hogwarts but also our last year of true happiness. Since we left Hogwarts His constant threat has been hanging over us.

I’ve only had your father for four years, Harry – please don’t let me lose him now.

Lily.


1st September 1981
Harry,
A whole year since I wrote to you last, and you are a whole year old, and I am a whole year older.

And you are still pale. The threat is lifted not a bit, and we are still stuck here.

Couldn’t help but laugh at my last letter. James and I talked that through, and now we cling to each other in the times when we are scared witless, scared that it may be the last time we can ever hold each other.

But now it’s me going insane.

Dumbledore is grave and says we are safest here, and the Longbottoms write to us, and the other Marauders visit us and go out for us to buy us food and things, but really, it isn’t enough.

I want to free again, Harry! I want to be back at Hogwarts with the wind in my hair and the N.E.W.T.S under my belt. I want to sprint from the Owlery to the Dungeons, I want to get my robes sooty from Potions and I want to laugh at my friends’ Charmwork. I want to have fun teasing James and watch him go mad for me, I want to sit on the bank with my toes in the lake and think – this is great, you know.

I sound like an old woman – but I am only twenty one! Only twenty one.

The word ‘freedom’ seems like a distant dream. Fear hangs over us daily as more news comes in of killings. Dearest friends gone forever, dearest friends who we were not there to fight for, who we could never say goodbye to, whose funerals we will not attend.

Dumbledore is warning us constantly of a traitor, a spy, working for the Order but working harder for Him. He is questioning all of us in turn, leaving us till last. I’m so, so glad that only the Marauders, the Weasleys and the Longbottoms know where we are – our best friends, people we know we can trust.

And yet I cannot help feeling a chill, a chill that has nothing to do with the autumn wind.

But life goes on, Harry dear.

Life goes on.

Lily.


16th September
Dear Harry,
Just a quick note, to let you know how we are getting on.

Less depressed today, I don’t know why. Less depressed but more worried, because we haven’t heard from Dumbledore in two weeks. He usually contacts us every other day. Your father is very worried; I can see it in his eyes, though more because Sirius has not written for the same amount of time. This is more than a coincidence, Harry, something is going on out there and we don’t know about it…

I HATE it Harry, I HATE this confinement! I thought coming here would be freedom, a new lease of life, away from busy cities and constant threats through the letterbox etc, but it’s not. It’s like we were stuck in a confine space, and the only way out was a trapdoor in the roof, and we spent all of our energy trying to reach out, but now that we’ve finally climbed out, we’ve found ourselves in an even smaller space.

The trapdoor’s slammed shut, and now there’s no way out.

Love you,
Lily.


24th October
Harry,
It’s bad, very bad. Dumbledore is back but he has awful news, there is someone on our tail, someone passing information to Him but even worse, he still doesn’t know who. He quickly advised us to do the Fidelius Charm, and we didn’t even have time to think about it. Choosing a Secret Keeper was easy in the end, any of the Marauders would have done. I know James wanted Sirius, but he was too obvious, so we made a big show out of choosing him and then switched to Peter at the last minute. I think your father would have preferred Remus but he’s too dangerous, there’s always the chance he’ll do something rash or be captured or something at the full moon. I feel awful about it, but that’s how it is.

Harry, I’m panicking. You lie there, with that sweet smile on you face, but even you know something’s coming. I feel like something’s gone horribly wrong, and I don’t know what it is. I hate not knowing, I’ve always hated it, even at school I hated not knowing…

Whoever said ‘no news is good news’ was talking crap.

I have to focus on the present.

But Harry, my mind keeps going into overdrive. I can’t stop crying! It’s like I’m losing control, of my body, of my mind.

Lily.


30th October
Harry,
It’s gone wrong. The plan’s gone wrong, Harry, and He’s coming for us.

Peter was the traitor, we were wrong to trust him, he’s been feeding information to Him all along.

He knows where we are, He’s coming. His presence hangs over us like a black curtain, I can’t see, can’t find my way out!

We need to get out of here, and fast. James is packing, only a few things, we need to get away before he comes for us.

Stop crying, Harry! Stop crying! You can feel it too, but please, let me get my head together!

It’s 10:30 at night, it’s dark and we need to get out.

Why did I not bring a mobile phone here! James believes in magical communication, but we can’t get hold of Dumbledore, and he needs to unlock the doors.

Shut up Harry shut up shut up shut up! Why can’t you see?

Help me.

Lily.


31st October
It’s over. There is no place to run, no place to hide, He knows.

Halloween night, and I swear Harry I will fight for you. I will fight for you until blood streams from my veins; I will fight Him for you until I die.

So scared, so scared.

It’s so cold, it’s freezing cold but I can’t think, don’t know where to find a jumper, and I don’t care, because He’s coming and I can feel it.

I should go, I should really go, because I can hear, I can hear footsteps, and James is shouting somewhere in the house.

I’ll leave you here, because the noises are louder, there’s banging somewhere and









Epilogue

“WHAT?� he shouted, oblivious to her, oblivious to everything, “THAT’S IT? THE END? DOES IT END THERE? AREN’T THERE ANY MORE?�

Foolishly, he looked back in the drawer, frantic, searching for any more, any more pieces of paper, surely it couldn’t have finished there, surely she didn’t leave, surely she didn’t go, surely the letters didn’t end with the word ‘and’…

“Leave it Harry,� she said, taking his arm and looking him in the eye. “That’s it. There’s no more. She – she died.�

He looked up, into her face, her flaming red hair sticking to her cheeks where they were covered in tears, her eyes wide, asking a question, making sure he was alright, caring for him, loving him.

“She – she died – didn’t she.�

“Yes, Harry. She died.�

“But she left…on the word ‘and’…�

“I know, I know. And you should treasure these letters forever, because these are the things your mother thought, the things she loved, what she said about you, how she felt…�

“Yeah – yeah.�

“Do you want me to leave? Do you want to keep reading?�

“Yeah – yeah, thanks. That’d be good.�

She stood up, shaking slightly, unsteady but stable, still reaching out to him through her grief.

As she reached the door, he called out.

“Ginny?�

“Yes?� she turned, staring at the man she loved, staring at the boy she had once known, staring at Harry.

“I love you.�