HANNAH ABBOTT: 29 December 1996
Dear Verity,
I’m glad you had a nice Christmas, and that you and Aunt Viola liked your presents. Dad told me to tell you that he appreciated all the things you sent. Sorry my letter was short, I was just not in the mood for writing all that much. Not that I was upset, more just overwhelmed, you know? Christmas day was so utterly wonderful, like a tiny speck of hope in a huge sea of horrible blackness, I wanted to hold on to it for as long as I could.
I didn’t tell you this, because I kind of thought you might think I was being stupid, but I feel like I have to tell someone. A girl I know told me that if you write a letter to someone who has died, they’ll still receive it. Her mother died when she was young and she said she does it all the time. The thing is, this girl is very nice, but she can be a little strange. So I thought about it for a while, but then finally I was just too curious so I wrote a letter to my mum. I told her about Justin and how much I missed her and lots of other silly stuff, and I sent it to her. It was strange - I just put her name on the letter, I had no idea what address or anything to put down, but I figured where she was, maybe she didn’t need one.
Anyway, I half-didn’t expect a reply, but I felt a bit better after writing it, like a huge weight had been lifted off my chest. Then, on Christmas morning - you know I told you about the book I gave Justin? And how I had a favourite picture? Well, I left the book on my bed and went to the bathroom when I woke up, and I planned to give everyone their presents when I’d brushed my teeth and things. I came back to my bed and the book had been moved to the other side of my bed, away from all the other presents, onto my pillow, and it had been opened at my favourite page. At first I thought it must have been Susan or one of the other girls, but then I realised that everyone else in the dorm was asleep. I looked at the picture, and - oh, it was so strange, and so beautiful - the tiny painted woman had turned into a tiny painting of my Mum. You might think I’m odd or that I was dreaming, but I’d swear that I wasn’t. She was wearing the same dress as the princess, but her hair was brown and she had my Mum’s face and her smile. She looked really happy and she pointed down at the prince (who was working his way through the thorns like before) and she nodded and grinned, and I knew she was telling me that she was happy for me and Justin. Then she mouthed, “Look after your father. He loves you very much.” and I started to cry. It was so bizarre and unbelievable. Then Susan woke up and came over to see if I was okay. I tried to show her the book but the picture was back the way it was.
Do you think I’m mad? You might do, and I wouldn’t blame you, but I know it was her especially because of what my Dad said and I finally feel kind of at peace with her. I sort of oh no I’m running out of ink
Sorry for the change in colour… oh, Verity, something horrible has happened. I ran out of ink so I went to the common room to find some and Justin’s just heard… something has happened at home. His parents are Muggles but for some reason they were attacked, or something. They’re all okay, apparently - the Ministry has put lots of charms and things on Muggle-borns’ families’ houses as a precaution recently, I remember my Mum telling me about it over the summer - but obviously they’re really shaken and some Aurors had to go over there to sort it out. Justin’s gone to help. I’m really worried. I hate not knowing exactly what’s going on, and I hate Justin having to go away on his own even more. I really hope he and his family are all okay. Oh, gosh, Verity, I feel ill. Why do these things have to happen? When will it ever stop?
I’m glad you had a nice Christmas, and that you and Aunt Viola liked your presents. Dad told me to tell you that he appreciated all the things you sent. Sorry my letter was short, I was just not in the mood for writing all that much. Not that I was upset, more just overwhelmed, you know? Christmas day was so utterly wonderful, like a tiny speck of hope in a huge sea of horrible blackness, I wanted to hold on to it for as long as I could.
I didn’t tell you this, because I kind of thought you might think I was being stupid, but I feel like I have to tell someone. A girl I know told me that if you write a letter to someone who has died, they’ll still receive it. Her mother died when she was young and she said she does it all the time. The thing is, this girl is very nice, but she can be a little strange. So I thought about it for a while, but then finally I was just too curious so I wrote a letter to my mum. I told her about Justin and how much I missed her and lots of other silly stuff, and I sent it to her. It was strange - I just put her name on the letter, I had no idea what address or anything to put down, but I figured where she was, maybe she didn’t need one.
Anyway, I half-didn’t expect a reply, but I felt a bit better after writing it, like a huge weight had been lifted off my chest. Then, on Christmas morning - you know I told you about the book I gave Justin? And how I had a favourite picture? Well, I left the book on my bed and went to the bathroom when I woke up, and I planned to give everyone their presents when I’d brushed my teeth and things. I came back to my bed and the book had been moved to the other side of my bed, away from all the other presents, onto my pillow, and it had been opened at my favourite page. At first I thought it must have been Susan or one of the other girls, but then I realised that everyone else in the dorm was asleep. I looked at the picture, and - oh, it was so strange, and so beautiful - the tiny painted woman had turned into a tiny painting of my Mum. You might think I’m odd or that I was dreaming, but I’d swear that I wasn’t. She was wearing the same dress as the princess, but her hair was brown and she had my Mum’s face and her smile. She looked really happy and she pointed down at the prince (who was working his way through the thorns like before) and she nodded and grinned, and I knew she was telling me that she was happy for me and Justin. Then she mouthed, “Look after your father. He loves you very much.” and I started to cry. It was so bizarre and unbelievable. Then Susan woke up and came over to see if I was okay. I tried to show her the book but the picture was back the way it was.
Do you think I’m mad? You might do, and I wouldn’t blame you, but I know it was her especially because of what my Dad said and I finally feel kind of at peace with her. I sort of oh no I’m running out of ink
Sorry for the change in colour… oh, Verity, something horrible has happened. I ran out of ink so I went to the common room to find some and Justin’s just heard… something has happened at home. His parents are Muggles but for some reason they were attacked, or something. They’re all okay, apparently - the Ministry has put lots of charms and things on Muggle-borns’ families’ houses as a precaution recently, I remember my Mum telling me about it over the summer - but obviously they’re really shaken and some Aurors had to go over there to sort it out. Justin’s gone to help. I’m really worried. I hate not knowing exactly what’s going on, and I hate Justin having to go away on his own even more. I really hope he and his family are all okay. Oh, gosh, Verity, I feel ill. Why do these things have to happen? When will it ever stop?