Chapter Text
30 June, 1999
Dear HBP,
You’ll be happy to hear that I’ve done well enough on my NEWTS to get into the Auror training program. Between you and me, I think I could have failed all of them and still got in, but it’s good to know that I earned my place there. I’m still not sure it’s what I want to do, but as I have no other ideas, it’s as good a fate as any.
Ginny has been drafted by the Holyhead Harpies. She’s really chuffed. She’ll be touring quite a lot, so we’ll only see each other off season. I’ll be pretty busy anyway with training. Ron will be with me as well, so it should be great.
Draco seems to have done all right, but things are still pretty bad for him with his dad being in prison. I don’t have as much information as you might like because, frankly, he’s still a twat. The best that can be said for him is that instead of an arrogant, privileged twat, he’s now just a sullen, bitter twat.
I’m enclosing a few articles from the Prophet that I’ve collected over the last few months regarding the Death Eater trials. There’s another piece about you that you might find amusing at least. It seems that heroism has a new name. Severus Snape. Our. New. Celebrity.
I wonder how your travels are going and if you’re any closer to finding the answers you’re looking for. I wanted to thank you again for the memory. After having seen my father so many times at his worst, it was reassuring to see that he had a better side.
I received your postcard from Prague. It looks like a nice city. Maybe I’ll get a chance to travel someday as well, but probably not until after the training. Who knows? Maybe I’ll go skiing again.
I hope you’re well, wherever you are tonight.
Sincerely,
Harry
-o-o-
9 January, 2000
Dear HBP,
Happy New Year. I think you should know that I am officially doomed to think of you at midnight on New Year’s Eve for the rest of my life. I wonder where you celebrated the coming of the new millennium. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and I went to London to the Millennium Dome. All the Muggles were in a frenzy to know if the world would end owing to some bug in their computer system. They’ve been talking of nothing else for the past year and then, suddenly at midnight... Nothing happened. Nothing at all. It was all very anticlimactic.
I can’t really picture you among Muggles. It was strange enough to see you in Muggle clothes last year. You’re much less intimidating without your robes. Or maybe it has something to do with being outside of Hogwarts. Or being dead (haha).
Training starts back up tomorrow, so I should be going to bed now. I really hope you’re well. If you can manage to send more than a postcard, I’d like some real news from you (for auld lang syne).
Happy birthday, by the way.
Sincerely,
Harry
-o-o-
28 February 2000
Harry,
I’m in India. Or on another planet. That may very well be the same thing.
I had met a backpacker on my travels through Thailand who told me that India was the place on earth where Heaven and Hell meet. He wasn’t wrong. Here you see supreme beauty juxtaposed with absolute desolation. They are a friendly and enthusiastic people, if a bit aggressively so. My patience and need for personal space have been continuously challenged, to say the least. I wasn’t sure I would live through the first three months without hexing the lot of them. But I’m coping better now.
The new millennium, for the record, doesn’t start until 2001. The celebrations for the year 2000 (how we do like to celebrate round numbers) were rather disastrous for me. I was with a mass of people in a makeshift club that was really just a raised platform on stilts when the whole thing collapsed. I didn’t come out as bad as some, but I was injured nevertheless. Last time I saw you, I told you that fate has a way of nudging us onto our paths. Well, let’s just say I was rather brutally nudged.
I’ll be spending some time here before moving on. The food is lovely and they know how to brew a cup of tea.
I hope you are well. I’d tell you to send my regards to the rest of Britain, but I’d really rather you didn’t.
Take care,
Hakesh Badri Prince
-o-o-
16 March 2000
Dear Hakesh (!),
I hope you’re all right after your fall and that you’re not stuck in India because you’re too injured to go anywhere else.
For the record, I know when the new millennium starts. But as the entire world called the celebration the millennium celebration, I didn’t think to belabour the point.
I’m really enjoying training this term, as we seem to be getting away from pure theory and starting on practical work. You’ll be surprised to know that I’m doing rather well at potions. The mind-clearing thing you taught me has really helped to stay focussed on the work we need to do here. I’ve elected to have another go at Occlumency as well, although I still have problems with the thought control part of things.
I still don’t know if I want to be an Auror, but I like the training. Strangely enough, Defence is the class I like the least. It’s really awkward to have everyone expect you to be so brilliant at it all. I’m not too bad off, really, but given Hogwarts’ track record for defence preparation, I’m not as well off I think I could have been. People just don’t seem to want to understand that my defeat of Voldemort was sort of a one- off. I defeated him with a spell you taught us in duelling club in my second year, for fuck’s sake. If it weren’t for the issue with the wands, for the protection of my mum, I’d have died.
I don’t mean to whinge. Everything is going okay really.
I’m enclosing more press clippings. The ministry is being slowly transformed by Shacklebolt. He’s done a fantastic job of bringing everything back together and trying to build a better government. I wish you could be here to see it.
I really hope this letter finds you in one piece. Try and stay away from makeshift clubs on stilts. I tried to send Britain your regards, but they didn’t know anyone by the name of Hakesh Badri Prince.
Regards,
Harry
-o-o-
27 October 2000
On the bright day of Diwali
May the blessings of Lord Ganesh
And Goddess Laxmi shower on you
Bliss and joy on this Diwali!
Shubh Diwali!
(It’s pissing down bliss. And me without an umbrella.)
Haady Badal Prince
-o-o-
23 December 2000
“And she shalt bring forth a son, and thou shalt name him JESUS; for he shalt save his people from their sins (Matthew 1.21)
May the miracle of Christmas touch your life!”
Haady, I’m considering a name change. What do you think?
Jesus, well and truly touched.
-o-o-
12 November 2001
Harry, or was it Jesus?
I’ve left India where I spent 18 months earning qualifications as a sort of Muggle healer. I managed to put aside a fair amount of money during my time as a teacher, and inherited a bit from our old friend for services rendered, but it will not last forever. I’m not yet at retirement age, not even by Muggle standards. It occurred to me that if I’m to make a life for myself, I will have to work.
I somehow found myself in that most unlikely of places: America. I am still not sure how it happened but I suspect it had something to do with an ill-advised mix of alcohol and libido. The Americans were at first reluctant to acknowledge my Indian qualifications, but I used my natural charm (read: Confundus charm) to persuade them. I still had to take a few more courses, but managed to get my accreditation as a Doctor of Naturopathy.
Of course, the state in which I have settled cares sod all for accreditations in this particular field, so I needn’t have bothered.
Travelling is a humbling exercise. You realise that the truths you hold so close to your heart fall apart when you find yourself confronted with a radically different context. Muggles continue to astonish me. The things they accomplish with pure science are astounding. It has shown me how ignorant we of the Wizarding world really are about the way things work. It’s not a value judgment. Wizards do not need to understand why a light bulb shines when we flick a switch. With the wave of our wand, we can generate that which Muggles have had to discover through experiment. They really are a remarkable race.
Of course, they have their more annoying traits as well. I think I worked through my culture shock a long time ago, however. Or perhaps I’ve just fallen into a permanent state of shock that I hardly recall what normal looks like anymore. I am pleased to say that over the last few years I have become quite proficient in the Muggle way of doing things. Your mother, I think, would have been pleased.
The place where I am staying currently is teeming with so-called spiritualists (see annoying traits above). Hippies and new age quacks who believe so strongly in the power of the mind that they manage magic by sheer will. It isn’t an exact science and their success rates are laughable, but they tend to be good people, if disastrously misguided.
I have decided to settle here for the time being. I’ve managed to get a job in a “New Age” shop that sells quartz and other “stones of power” to cater to the naive masses. Every now and again someone comes in looking for something with healing power and I surreptitiously heal whatever ailment they have while selling them whatever stone or herb they’re after. They leave happy in their faith and better off for their purchase.
It is, as the Americans like to say, a win-win situation.
As keeping a low profile is absolutely necessary, I should appreciate if you would send any future correspondence by Muggle post to the post office box listed below.
Yours,
Henry Bernard Prince
-o-o-
13 December 2001
Henry? Really?
I can’t imagine a name less appropriate than that.
But then, I would never have pictured you in America either.
I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t know you at all. You’re probably not surprised, but I admit that I am. There are few people in this world whose head I have visited and I have spent more time in yours than is healthy. And for all that, you are still a mystery.
I’m enclosing some clippings that might interest you. One of which is the latest development in my life. Ginny and I are getting married! It will be a long engagement, as she is still really busy with the Harpies and I still need to finish training. She’s doing really well. She doesn’t get home very often, but I have a lot going on with my studies, so it’s probably for the best.
I’ll be going back to the chalet on Boxing Day for a bit of skiing. It’s become a bit of a tradition for me. I’m getting pretty good at it. I think I’ll take on my first black run this year.
Maybe I’ll see you there.
Best regards,
Harry Bloody Potter
-o-o-
1 August 2002
Hey.
Well, I’ve finished. I’m an officially qualified Auror. I will start work in a week.
I’m not sure how I feel about it all. I enjoyed training to become an Auror, but I’m still not sure it’s what I want to do. I’m still waiting for my own path to be clear. Maybe I’m already on it.
I haven’t heard from you in awhile. I hope the Americans haven’t eaten you.
Regards,
Harry
-o-o-
13 December 2002
Dear Henry or Horace, or whatever you’re calling yourself these days,
We made a deal, mate. I hear from you once a year or I come looking. You know I’ll do it.
I’m enclosing your Christmas present. It’s a pocket penseive. Hermione gave me one of these the last year I was in school. It’s come in very handy over the years. I hope you like it. I’m also giving you back your memories. It’s not really a gift as they’re already yours.
Things are a bit tense over here. Work is OK, but Gin and I aren’t getting on very well. What little time we spend together is spent fighting. I suspect she’s having an affair. She suspects I’m only with her for her family.
Sometimes I wonder if she’s right.
I don’t know why I’m writing this, except that, well, dead men tell no secrets.
I hope you’re well. Please write.
Regards,
Harry
-o-o-
15 January 2003
Dear Harry,
If you show up at my door, I shall have to hex you. This would be rather inconvenient to the low profile I’m maintaining.
I haven’t kept up my end of the bargain. My only excuse is that I’ve been incredibly busy. I’ve opened up a shop to sell herbs and tinctures (potions, in the real world) that I produce myself from my (quite impressive, if I may say so) garden. On the side, I’m putting my accreditation (for whatever it’s worth) to good use and taking in patients on referral.
I am sorry to hear about you and Miss Weasley. I myself have always been rather suspect of those who claim to find true love before completing adolescence. I suspect that doesn’t make you feel better, but really, you hardly knew who you were the last time I saw you. How could you possibly know who you wanted to be with for the rest of your life? Given your proximity to the rest of the Weasleys, you’ve practically made it impossible to extricate yourself from this relationship without alienating the only family you have ever known.
Once more, Harry, you find yourself in quite the impossible situation. I have no advice for you. Whatever happens, you’ll survive. You’re very good at that.
Take care,
Horatio Bathet Prescott
-o-o-
23 December 2003
Happy Christmas, you bastard.
I was a bit angry with you after your last letter. But then I realised that it’s pointless to be angry with a rose for being prickly. So I decided to forgive you. I’m sure you’ll sleep better at night knowing that.
Life here hasn’t changed much since I last wrote. My job is getting more interesting now that they’re letting us do more than paperwork. I had a surreal experience of going back to Hogwarts in October to give a talk on Defence. It turned out to be one of those Meet Harry Potter affairs that make my skin crawl. But the kids liked it, I suppose.
The Defence professor that took up after the war, Professor Ninepenny, is still there, if you can believe it. I think even you would have to agree that he’s actually competent in the subject.
I’ll be going back to the chalet soon. I’ve been looking forward to it since I left last year. It’s really great to just disappear if only for a week or so. To talk to no one in particular and just be alone. I don’t have much opportunity for that.
Of course, if you should happen to show up, I won’t be too disappointed.
I hope you’re well.
Regards,
Harry
-o-o-
30 November 2004
Hey,
I’ll be at the chalet on Boxing Day, staying through the New Year. I can’t force you to come, but I’m not above begging. I’d like to see you, Severus.
Please.
Pretty please.
Harry, on his knees.