I've lost track of the number of times I've tried writing this letter. I just can't get my words to come out the way they appear inside my head. I'm kind of really tired, but I want to finish this before I go to bed. I've been trying to write this letter for as long as I can remember, and today seems like the day to get it done. Today I am 18, Harry Potter- or the wizarding world, or whatever it is I'm really writing to- and that's kind of important. I didn't really think I'd get to be here. If you hadn't be around, I guess I might not be.
I know I'm sounding melodramatic, wizarding world- there, that's almost short and snappy, we'll stick with that. I know I'm sounding melodramatic, wizarding world, and like I'm fishing for attention, but I'm not. I believe in being honest, and I believe in giving credit where credit's due. I may not know how to write this letter, but I know that I need it to be honest.
You were my Room of Requirement (get ready for the Potter metaphors, because I'm sure there will be an abundance coming right up). That is to say, you appeared right when I needed you; less like a space for the DA, and more like Dumbledore's bathroom, because I didn't know I needed you. I was- four, maybe? Little. Young enough not to really remember it. The Philosopher's Stone came out in cinemas, and we went to see it. Then we went to the library to start reading the books, or at least, for my dad to start reading them to me. I already said I was little. However, it seemed like everyone else had the same idea. The only book they had was the Prisoner of Azkaban- so we started with that one, and read the first three in reverse order.
That was one part of my life, wizarding world. There was another part of it, that wasn't so great. I'm a young carer (or I was; now I am a young adult carer). For as long as I can remember, I've been caring for someone with a mental illness. Mental illnesses are pretty damn scary when you're an adult and kind of sort of get what's going on. When you're a kid, they're a million times worse. It's all crying and being lonely and scared. It's confusing, and you have to grow up pretty quickly, and you just want to make everything better. Of course you can't, but you can try. I've been trying every day of my life, wizarding world.
Whilst I am on my soapbox, talking to the world that is most important to me, I would like to make it known that I do not bemoan being a carer. It is difficult, but I am not angry, nor is there any blame or judgement. It is rewarding. It is full of lessons, and unexpected blessings, and most of all love. If I could grant good mental health to the people I love (and to the world!), I would do it within a second. However, if I could not make the world happy, then I would not, instead, choose not to care.
Anyway, so there was that. A whole lot of stuff that I couldn't really understand, but couldn't avoid. And then- and then there was you. A magical world full of adventure. My Room of Requirement- exactly what I needed. Lesson one: you taught me how good books are for escaping from the world, when things get too much. I used you for that purpose a lot, extending your influence on my life far further than the pages. Things weren't always too fab at school, and it got a bit lonely. But it was okay, because, I wasn't Becky-the-weird-girl-on-her-own-in-the-playground anymore, I was Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her year and best friend to the Boy Who Lived. The concrete of the playground became moving staircases, and playtime after playtime was spent in magical lessons- not by myself anymore, but surrounded by hundreds of students, just like me. Magic.
No matter how scary and dark things seemed to get, you were the light switch I could always turn on (Dumbledore would be proud of that one, right?); always waiting for me with open arms. When I was sad, you held me; and when things were good- I don't want to make it sound all doom and gloom, there were far more good moments than there were bad- you were there to rejoice with me, too.
My mum and dad- ever supportive and nurturing, ever fantastic and fabulous, ever every superlative ever- cottoned on to the fact that this was a love affair, and not some two-second fad, so helped me to explore. We went on trips to places used in the films; I played in cloisters, pretended to ride a broomstick. I had robes, games, figurines. For me, your world was as real as humanly possible.
Somewhere along the line, anxiety made me it's nest, and it hasn't given me up since. An anxiety disorder, they call it. It's something that a lot of people don't really understand- I'm sick of people telling me to get over it, or be positive, that they understand and that it'll be fine. You never told me any of those things, wizarding world. You were just there. You didn't need to ask questions about why the thought of death made me panic, or why I was suddenly certain my family would be involved in a car crash, or why I thought everyone hated me. You were the complete opposite to CAMHS and therapy, where they tried to make me talk and work through things; and yet, in your own way, you were just as helpful, if not more so. It wasn't just comfort I found in your pages, it was lessons, too. I learnt some of the best things
from you- about hope, and friendship, and love. Anxiety will always be my personal Dementor, but because of you I know exactly how to cast my Patronus.
Individual members of your world had lessons for me, too. Ginny was my first feminist icon, refusing to be put down because she was a girl. As someone who enjoyed school, did well and suffered teasing for it, Hermione was my perfect heroine. Luna helped me to see that weird was not a label, but a valuable trait. From Ron, I learnt the power of friendship, and from Harry I took strength and courage. There was a lesson in every one of them.
When the Order of the Pheonix came out, it took me two seconds to fall completely in love with Nymphadora Tonks, and not very much longer to learn the section of the book in which she appears. I can't recall it word for word anymore; but I have a picture of Natalia-Tena-as-Tonks right next to my bed, and my dream magical power would still be to change my hair at will (though I do a good job of that without being magic). Tonks was partly the key to discovering my sexuality (cos let's face it, in a parallel world, we are SO married)- but, more importantly, she was the key to discovering me. And who gave me that world? You did, wizarding world.
As I got older, things got more difficult. I was just fifteen when I first started to hurt myself, out of anger and self-hatred and loneliness and sadness. By the time I was sixteen, I didn't really want to be here at all. Those are hard things to admit to, wizarding world. As I tried to save each and every person I loved, they were the Grindylows, trying to drag me back down. I don't really know where they came from either; Grindylows are complex creatures, and there's no point in wondering whether there was any cause or effect. What matters is that, with friendship, and love, and support, I managed to kick them off. I have scars from their tentacles, but I am stronger now. The Grindylows are always going to be there, in the depths of the water, and some days I can feel them tickling my feet- but I know the incantations I need to use now. If mental health is a Triwizard Tournament, then I am determined to reach the cup. You helped me with that, too; even if I didn't reach for you in those times, the words and lessons that you gave me were there. I am on the road called recovery, and I am taking a Fred and George approach of finding something to laugh about every single day. Oh, I am so indebted to you, my love. For those battling such Grindylows, I would like to take this moment to remind you that you are stronger than them; that there is always light to be found, even in the darkest of times, and that I am always around to share with you a little of what the wizarding world gave to me, if you should want it.
On a much lighter note, in there somewhere, my younger sister was born. She does not need you like I did, wizarding world, and that makes me more glad than anything else. However, even she is not immune to you. Having watched the Goblet of Fire years and years ago, she has decided she wants to be a dragon tamer (or possibly a ballerina) (or possibly both). I hope you save Charlie Weasley's job
for her, because if there is anyone in the non-wizarding world who will
achieve such a dream, it is my sister. She has more determination even than the characters you could offer, and she makes me proud every single day.
More recently, I have begun to see the importance in fighting. Like Harry fought Voldemort for killing his parents, I am fighting stigma and hatred, for hurting those I love- my beloved sister, my beyond-amazing parents, every single one of my family and friends. I want to see a world where there are no words we cannot name; where we can talk freely about what pains us, love freely who we want, and live freely. I want to get a tattoo of the word 'fight'. According to the dictionary, that word is to do with violence. You and I both know, wizarding world, that to fight is to live; to fight is to overcome the things that try to pull us down, whether that be Grindylows, or Dementors, or Voldemort. I will fight for love and equality; and when I place my flag down, it will be in your name.
I am Tonks, with my ever-changing hair and refusal to be called by my full name; I am Hermione, both clever and a friend; I am Ginny, fierce and loyal, and Luna, forever unique. I am a fragment of everything that ever made me, and you have more claim in that than most. I am not just Harry, but the wizarding world in it's entirety*.
I feel like I've reached a natural coda; to conclude, I want to tell you about the castle. A couple of years ago, we went to your museum- or to your experience, whatever you are calling it. For three hours, I lived the dream entirely. However, one of the best moments of my life will always be when I walked around the corner, and saw the castle. My mum, walking in front, said the look on my face was what made the entire trip worth it. For me, it was like coming home.
Yours, most faithfully, most thankfully, most entirely,
Becky
*But mostly I am Tonks, let's face it
