Hope

Hope

Hope is a state of mind, not of the world. Hope, in this deep and powerful sense, is not the same as joy that things are going well, or willingness to invest in enterprises that are obviously heading for success, but rather an ability to work for something because it is good. -Vaclav Havel.

I see what's going on around me, but it doesn't register. I hear the words, but I'm not really listening. I feel the wetness on my cheeks, but I don't recognize what's happening. How can I? The only woman I've ever loved with every piece that I am has died. She was taken before our life together could ever really start.

We knew this might happen. She knew that being with me would paint a target on her back. But she told me she didn't care--she told me that every minute we had together was a gift and that we needed to treat it that way. And so we did. We lived every day as if it were our last. Everyday was a gift and we treated it as such. Through the chaos surrounding us, I proposed to her. I wanted to wait until after the war to get married, but she reminded me that we should treasure every moment. We were married two weeks later. Several weeks later, we discovered we would be parents. Though the war was still going on, we were thrilled. Terrified, but thrilled.

I tried to convince her to take the baby and go into hiding, with me as their secret-keeper, but she wouldn't hear anything of it. I didn't expect her to go into hiding, but I had to try. Our daughter Nadine was born later that year. Nadine Potter we named her. Nadine means hopeful in French, you know.

I had hoped that my daughter would never know of the horrors of war, but it was not to be. My daughter was born three years ago, and the war finally ended only three days ago.

It seems now as if everyone in the world is here to tell me and my daughter how sorry they are. They want to console the Boy, no Man-Who-Lived and his daughter, but there's nothing they can say. I don't want everyone in the world. I want my wife back. I want my daughter to know her warm and loving mother. The woman that made me a better person. The woman that helped me to see the light in life, when I could only see the dark.

I watch as her casket is lowered into the ground. The tears continue to fall, though I make no move to wipe them away. I hug my daughter closer. She doesn't really understand what is going on. She's only three after all. I've tried to explain that her Mum isn't coming back, but I don't think she understands.

I'm now a single father, and I don't know how I'll handle it. Maybe we'll move to America where no one knows who we are. We'll come back in time for her to attend Hogwarts of course, but Nadine deserves a childhood different than what I had. She deserves one like my wife had.

I know my friends want to help, but I'm not sure how they can. I'm not sure what to tell them when they ask what they can do to help me. Maybe later I'll know, but not today. Today I still can't believe my wife is dead. My dear Ginny. My dear Ginny is dead.