Light of the Blood-Red Sun

I remember so well the day he showed up outside my front door after being gone for so long. It was absolutely shocking; we all thought he was dead! We'd been told he was dead--and it had been such a believable story. 'Killed in battle with the Dark Lord' screamed Daily Prophet headlines, 'Convicted Death Eater Augustus Rookwood claims he used the Killing Curse against Potter.' Rookwood also claimed he destroyed the body. The good of the wizarding world took this all in and mourned the death of Harry Potter. The only one that could save us.

As I was to find out, it wasn't true.

I look through the glass door of my home at my young daughter. She's thirteen now, and bears such a striking resemblance to her father. Black hair, green eyes, and very knobbly knees. She's sitting on the railing of our deck and gazing out at the sunset, and her black hair is reflecting the scarlet color of one of her father's old Weasley jumpers. I see her and want to cry for the woman she will never become.

Laura will be locked inside the mind of a small child for the rest of her life, yet her body will continue to grow, betraying her honest age. She once was a bright, happy eight-year-old always wanting to know why. But that was before the Cruciatus Curse nearly drove her insane. It didn't, thankfully, but it left her mind permanently damaged. I wonder who will take care of her when I'm gone.

She turns to look at me through the door, her green eyes wide as they watch the tears slip down my cheeks. How much like her father she looks, I say to myself for the millionth time. "Mummy, Mummy, why are you crying?" asks my sweet daughter, my lovely little girl. She comes through the door and clings to my robes, gazing up at me as she did when she was a child of three.

I hastily wipe the tears away and manage a small smile. I kiss her head, then hug her close. "Nothing is wrong, darling," I tell her. She surprises me by her next question.

"Do you miss Daddy?" Her eyes are clouded. I know she misses him too. My lips tremble again, but I blink back the tears this time.

"Yes," I say hoarsely. "Yes, Mummy misses Daddy a lot."

"I do too," she says defiantly. "I'm mad at him for leaving us!"

I take Laura's hand and lead her inside. "No, Laura," I answer consolingly. "You shouldn't be mad at Daddy. He didn't want to leave."

She nods her head, but I can see the tears in her eyes too. How little she knows. I wonder what she would say if she knew her father died to keep her alive, and me as well. He loved us all, and in the end did not hesitate about giving his life so we could keep ours. After the years of mourning his false death, seeing him and then losing him all over again--I wanted to die, too. I wonder how things would have turned out if Harry had never come to find me. If he had just stayed away...and pretended to be dead as we all thought he was. Would it have saved Laura's mind?

I do not know the answer to this. But after many years, I am finally ready.

Ready to tell our story.