Fighting for Honor

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Dear Father,

Father, I miss you so much. You left two months ago and I haven't heard from you for three weeks. Where are you now? Mum said you're somewhere in Europe. France was what she said. But I noticed that her voice was trembling when she told me. I am old enough to know she was lying. Where are you?

When you found out that you have to leave at the beginning summer after you found out about the rise of Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters, my heart just about broke in two. You were going to miss what Lucas and I are up to. I owled Ginny a few days ago and she asked me if I could go to Diagon with her. I asked mum and she said yes but I could tell that she had worries.

I also want to tell you that a few days ago, little Lucas spoke his first words: Dada. I was carrying him in my arms when he said it. I was surprised first of all and very excited. The next minute, I cried right on his little shoulders. He misses you, daddy, and he was telling me that. The bad thing is, he can't understand why you're not here. He doesn't why you are not home with your family, and instead you are off fighting the Death Eaters.

Lucas certainly can't understand that there are bad wizards out there in the world. I know that these matters would not register in his little head, even if I tried to tell him. If only I have words to say. I can't explain any of this nonsense to him. I most certainly just can't. There are no words for me to describe the anger I have for the Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort.

But unlike Lucas, I can tell you what I want. And I speak for both of us when I say, "I want you home with us, father." I want you here, playing with us and hugging us, tossing Lucas up in the air-like the way he loves it- and maybe helping me buy my school things for my fourth year in Hogwarts. I want Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters to stop their evil ways. I want all the fighting to stop. I want wizards, witches, Muggles and everything in between to just plain get along. That is all I ask for. Do you think that is too much to ask? I don't.

Maybe I worry too much. But I think it is better that I worry too much rather than too little. I always thought that knowledge is a very good tool to have in life. That it's the only way to succeed, you told me that. But no one ever told me that knowing too much can give me problems. Now I know.

I've read and heard about what Death Eaters had done to Neville Longbottom's parents. I've heard from other students gossiping that the Death Eaters captured them and then placed the Cruciatus Curse on them. And that torture drove them insane that they were sent to St. Mungo's for it. Neville goes over to visit them in the summer and they don't even know who he is. Maybe that's why Neville's clumsy and so forgetful. He's traumatized by the whole ideal.

But ignorance is bliss. I have to say that I am really scared for you, Father. I am really, really am. Just not knowing where you are right now, what you are doing, whether you are eating right is driving me crazy. Just not knowing whether you're okay or that something bad could happen to you drives me to the end of my wits. And it drives mum crazy too.

Every night after she tucks me in bed and then reads me stories. She thinks I am asleep before she heads to your bedroom. She doesn't know I sneak out sometimes, just to check our locks and bolts, and she has no idea that I hear her crying in the bedroom you shared when you are at home.

I am worried the bad people might do something to you father. Or something worse. What if you don't find the Death Eaters that easily? What if they found you instead? What if the bad people capture you and then torture you like they did the Longbottoms? I don't want you to go insane. I don't want to suffer like Neville. I don't want to kill you most of all. How am I going to help mum survive ourselves?

I long for the day you come back. I miss being carried off to bed and be read bedtime stories. I miss the smell of cigar smoke (and you know how much I badgered you to stop) and the way you chew your food (you really got to work on that.) I miss your laughter, how you cause the whole house to shake when you suddenly burst out laughing. I miss how you make mum smile when you played the piano and sing to her. No one has played the piano for us after dinner for the longest time. Mum sits by the piano and touches the ivory keys. She misses you. We all do.

I miss your smile most of all. I look at the last picture that grandmum took of the four of us, right before you left. I noticed that we were all smiling. We all seemed so happy. Or were we? Were we all showing a fake smile, father? Was your smile untrue also? Was your smile hiding the fears you have? The fears you have for yourself? Or is it fears about the three for us? For mum, Lucas and me?

I am afraid, father. Very afraid. Tomorrow I am taking the Hogwarts Express to Hogwarts. I don't know if I would like to leave mum and Lucas. Who is to protect them while I am away? It's hard enough being away. But it's harder that you are away. If you are at home, I know you'd be safe with Mum and Lucas. It must be very hard for mum. I am away and you are also. She knows I am safe at Hogwarts while Dumbledore is still the Headmaster. But she certainly could not hide her worries anymore. For you or for me.

I hate all the bad people in the world, father. How could people be so mean? How could Voldemort's father just leave him after his mother told him she was half witch? Voldemort wouldn't have turned to the bad side and you would be home, with mum, Lucas and me. You would be telling me not to mess with boys, to not get into detention, and to study well. And where are you now? Out there in the middle of Europe or somewhere else for all I know, instead of home.

Don't get me wrong dad. I don't hate you. I hate the war. And you are just doing your job, as an Auror. I am very proud of you, father. I really am. I hold my head up high, hiding my fears for you, everyday and I pride being the child of an Auror. I pride that my father fights for honor. I just want you home soon. Please try to do so.

I LOVE YOU VERY MUCH. Owl mum or I soon!

Your loving and worried daughter,

Helena

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