Letters to The Boy Who Lived

16. Questioning- Dolores Umbridge

Dear Harry~

I'm to teach you about questioning in this letter. This is my story.

I know, I'm not exactly the first person you want to hear from. You have good reason, too. I can't promise that you'll forgive me, even if I tell you why I did it. But if you'll listen, perhaps you will understand.

I was a wild child- way back when I was a child, of course. My parents often said that I ought to have been born a boy, for I sure did act like one. I preferred digging in the dirt and blowing up frogs to playing tea-party and that nonsense. My father and mother were both wizards, and I grew up knowing about magic and all that. Oh, and I had a sister, Amelia. She was a year younger and she was the model child.

Amelia loved kittens and tea parties, frills and lacy bows. My parents just adored her, for she was their precious baby. Amelia was the spitting image of my mother, gorgeous blonde curls and bright blue eyes, My thick, unruly brown curls and dull grey eyes could not compare.

While I strived to be more like Amelia, I fell far short. Everything was about Amelia. Everyone loved Amelia. Amelia was the best child. Amelia could do no wrong.

My hatred slowly grew over the years; a bitter resentment toward both Amelia and my parents. My heart turned sour, and I held onto that hurt for years. Slowly, it turned me into a child full of hatred, and I wanted so badly to get my revenge on the sister who had made my life... well, yeah.

Then, when I thought life couldn't get any worse, it did.

I didn't know how or why it happened at the time; just that it happened. Both Amelia and my mother were killed while running errands for my father.

I never wanted them dead. I never wanted it to end like it did. But they were gone, and I couldn't bring them back.

Years later, I learned that Lord Voldemort had murdered them. He was young, probably twenty or so, only ten years older than me. But for some reason he already liked killing, and he wasn't hesitant about killing whoever got in his way. That day, it had been my mother and my sister.

I decided, it was my job to get revenge whatever way I could. Yes, I had been kicked around by my family for years, but it didn't matter. I refocused the hatred inside myself to anything that might threaten me, or the perfect world I was going to create for myself.

Voldemort was the first thing to block out; even years later, despite overwhelming evidence that he was back, I refused to believe it. Letting myself think that he was back would only bring back memories and fears of my childhood.

I began to feel threatened by half-breeds and Muggle-borns, wanting to keep myself away from those sort of things.

As time went by... the determination within me just turned to utter hatred of most things around me.

I question what I've become. Was it ever worth it? Is this what my parents would have wanted? I didn't know... but I couldn't change what I'd become.

Could I?

Harry, questioning yourself can be healthy. Because if you’re questioning, there’s probably something that needs to be changed.

~Dolores

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Hey, I'm kinda early for this one! Haha, yay makes me happy!

"Don't be silly, Ronald. How could anyone be in two classes at once?" <-- watching this movie now(: