Categories > Books > Harry Potter > A Love at Stake
Lily was seated in her apartment, her eyes filled with tears as she stared blankly out of the window, overwhelmed with shock. The events that had unfolded earlier still lingered in her mind, making her return home a daunting experience. Just the day before, her son had been bustling around the house, cooking meals and making noise. But now, the once lively space was eerily quiet, creating a sense of disorientation and unease for Lily. Not even Hedwig, the pet owl belonging to Harry, made a sound, adding to the heaviness of the silence that enveloped her, leaving her lost in her own thoughts.
She watched raindrops race down the glass, tracing paths that mirrored the tears that had fallen from her own eyes. Each drop pooled and merged with the next, much like the memories that swirled within her. The laughter, the chasing, the warmth of her son’s embrace—all felt just out of reach. She recalled the smell of his favourite food wafting through the apartment, filling every corner with life. Now, the air felt stale, carrying the weight of unspoken goodbyes.
Attempting to make sense of her current situation, Lily shifted in her chair, feeling as though her entire life had been hurled into chaos. Her work, which had once brought her fulfilment and purpose, now felt like a monotonous chore, devoid of joy.
The routines of her daily life had lost their significance, making her feel disconnected from the world around her. She could hardly remember the last time she had ventured outside, choosing instead to retreat into the sanctuary of her silence. The clamour of city life that had once invigorated her now felt jarring and distant. She avoided the world, feeling like a shadow among the living, someone whose vibrancy had been snuffed out. The very concept of her own existence seemed distant and uncertain, adding to her sense of isolation.
Consumed by a profound grief that penetrated every part of her, Lily was bombarded with unanswered questions that swirled in her mind. Why had fate chosen to take away James and her son? Why was she left alone to carry the weight of their loss; their laughter now mere whispers in her memory? Each unanswered question felt like a dagger to her heart, making the ache within her pulse like a haunting drum.
She struggled against the tide of despair that wrapped around her; the memories she cherished now felt like chains that weighed her down. Every corner of the apartment seemed to reverberate with the absence of their voices, the shadows of their presence lingering in the air like an unfinished work. The stark silence filled her with an all-consuming dread, threatening to swallow her whole.
After she had cried uncontrollably, Lily slumped against the sturdy wooden door of Harry’s closed bedroom, her hands clutching her tear-stained face as she attempted to regain her composure. The dull ache in her heart mirrored the silence that enveloped her. Memories of their last conversation echoed painfully in her mind, a verbal spat ignited by fear and uncertainty that had turned to bitter accusations and hurtful words.
For a moment, she lingered there, letting the warmth of the door seep into her. She had never meant to hurt Harry, but the weight of their unspoken words had pressed down too heavily on her heart. Resolutely, she wiped her tears with the back of her hand. Summoning every ounce of courage, she gently pushed open the door and cautiously peeked inside.
The sight before her brought a mix of nostalgia and heartache. Harry’s bedroom was a minimalist space, adorned only with posters of his beloved Quidditch team, magical creatures, and a Gryffindor banner that flapped lightly in the gentle draft from the window. The room was a refuge filled with remnants of a life steeped in magic and adventure.
A cosy bed, its maroon blanket meticulously arranged, gave off an inviting aura. Her gaze drifted to the window, cloaked in opulent velvet curtains, where slanted rays of light spilt across the wooden floor. At the far end of the room stood a solid wardrobe, its door slightly ajar, hinting at the clothes hurriedly put away during another frantic morning.
Her heart softened as she surveyed the cluttered desk, littered with well-loved notebooks and quills that told stories of Harry’s dreams and thoughts. As her eyes settled on the snowy owl perched peacefully in her cage, head nestled beneath her wing, Lily felt an unexpected pang of longing. Hedwig had always been a symbol of loyalty and companionship—a bond Harry shared with no one else.
With a slow, hesitant pace, Lily entered the room and made her way to the bed, where she gingerly lowered herself down. The space felt heavy, each corner whispering the weight of memories. She wasn’t ready to confront the past, but there was no escaping it now. Her eyes immediately found the desk directly across from her. There, a picture frame stood proudly on top, capturing a moment frozen in time—a beautiful image of her and James dancing joyfully in the park on their wedding day.
That day was etched into Lily’s heart with vibrant colours. The glow of the late afternoon sun, the gentle breeze that danced through the trees, and the sound of laughter ringing in the air as they swayed to their favourite song painted an unforgettable picture. A smile broke across her face as she admired the photograph, but it quickly faded, replaced by a creeping sense of guilt.
Just last night, she had been caught off guard when Harry, with his kind smile and bright eyes, had asked her to dance. It was a simple request, but the chaos swirling in Lily’s mind had led her to decline with a chill that still haunted her. The memory of Harry’s surprised expression masked her own feelings of regret, and now, staring at the photograph of her and James, she could only imagine the hurt she had caused. She had turned him away, too wrapped up in her own emotions to truly see him. The thought of him glancing at that photograph, the only one displayed on his desk, stung with the harshness of reality.
“Harry… my son,” Lily whispered, her voice quivering as emotion surged within her. “I’m so sorry.” Tears pooled in her eyes, heavy with the weight of her regrets.
Her gaze landed on the leather journal, a personal gift she had saved for his thirteenth birthday, one that they had hoped he would fill with adventures and dreams. The velvet cover was slightly worn, the initials, H.J.P., standing proud against the deep mahogany colour. She took a moment, inhaling deeply, recalling the day she presented it to him—the gleam in his eyes, his shy smile, the promise of secrets to be shared between its pages.
With trembling fingers, Lily opened the journal, and she could almost hear Harry’s voice, gentle and earnest, whispering to her through time. The pages creaked slightly as she turned them, and she soon found herself lost in the words he had crafted with care. Here, within these pages, lay a world that was missing from the one outside.
Her eyes lingered on an entry from when Harry was twelve years old. She couldn’t help but feel a rush of nostalgia and sorrow as she began to read. The words transported her back to a time when Harry was still discovering the world and himself.
“When I was introduced to Ron’s family for the first time, I was immediately struck by the genuine warmth and openness with which they interacted. Their communication was filled with love and care, creating an atmosphere that made me reflect on the lack of meaningful conversations I have with my own mother…”
Lily’s heart constricted. She remembered how Harry had always longed for the kind of relationship he perceived in Ron’s family. Conversations with their mother rarely delved beyond chores and the day’s events. Busy with work, she had often missed the simple, yet imperative moments Harry craved.
As she read on, sadness deepened within her.
“I yearn for the day when my mother and I can share the kind of profound and fulfilling discussions that seem to come so naturally to others. I miss her greatly and hold onto the hope that one day we will have the chance to have those rich and heartfelt conversations.”
Tears welled in her eyes as she set the journal down. Harry had been a sensitive soul, brimming with hopes, dreams, and fears he never fully expressed. How she wished he could see how those aspirations mirrored her own struggles now.
With a quick shake of her head, she gazed back at the journal, compelled to read the next entry penned a month prior.
“Upon my return home, my first night was not as I had hoped. My mother expressed her disappointment in me, believing that I had not put enough effort into my schoolwork, which was untrue…”
Lily let out a small, surprised laugh, knowing well that this was the common thread they both shared: misunderstanding. Harry had been so desperate to prove himself, yet his efforts had often gone unnoticed.
”Despite feeling disheartened, I understood her perspective. In an attempt to mend the situation, I took the initiative to prepare dinner that evening…”
Lily could almost envision Harry moving nervously about the kitchen, attempting to impress her with a less-than-perfect meal. She found solace in knowing he tried, even when it felt futile.
As she flipped to the next entry, the ink was still fresh, as if Harry had poured his soul into those recent thoughts. She leaned closer, a sense of urgency blooming in her chest.
“Even though it may be too early to lose all hope, I cannot ignore the growing distance between my mother and me…”
Lily winced. That distance was now tangible—a shadow that loomed over their household. Harry’s voice echoed in her head, aching with a shared loneliness she felt profoundly in recent months.
“Our interactions have become strained, with her spending most of her time alone in her room and barely acknowledging my efforts to connect with her. I feel lost and unsure of how to bridge the gap between us. Feeling desperate for a solution, my friend Hermione suggested that I write a poem as a way to communicate with my mother. Initially, I was hesitant about the idea, but I eventually decided to give it a try. I hope that sharing this poem with my mother will help us reconnect, even though I fear she may not fully grasp its meaning. Despite the uncertainty, I remain optimistic that there will be a chance for us to mend our relationship. My mother has always been my pillar of strength and unwavering support, and I deeply miss our close bond. The longing to have her back in my life is beyond words.”
She flipped through its pages, the crisp sound of paper tearing through the stillness of the room. Her heart raced as she scanned the rest of the pages, feeling a pang of unease ripple through her. With trembling fingers, she reached deeper into the journal, something shifting against her grasp. Unfurling the hidden note felt like unearthing a shard of her son’s heart. She steadied her breath, anticipation mingling with anxiety. As she read, a profound tenderness unfolded, spilling over her senses like a rush of warmth and regret. It was a poem—a delicate tapestry woven with his unfiltered emotions:
A MOTHER’S LOVE
By H.J.P
All the time I’ve been waiting
That you will see and know what I’m longing
Want to live a life that I’m yearning
Wake my senses and my world of dreaming
Since my life is in solitary
Wondering what if this would be
I’m with you but I didn’t feel any
Mum, do you hear my heart’s emissary?
You are my inspiration in everything I do
Even if it’s hard to bear and I can’t join the flow
But I felt you ignored those things, is it true?
Or you see my hardships but you didn’t view?
I open my arms, as well as my heart
To receive the love bound from the start
But when I went close, you turned your back
I tried to run to you but lost my track
Mother, could you please say to me
That you love me unconditionally
That all my deeds even bad you’ll embrace
And you’ll forgive me with your willful grace
Can you utter those words I’ve wanted to hear?
Can I have those eyes looking at mine?
May I hold those warm hands to enfold my sighs?
May I see your lips giving me a smile?
I love you even when the blue sky is gone
I need you when the darkness comes
Long for your touch, your hug so tight
That would ease my fright in the middle of the night
You grant me life, endow a chance
You give me your flesh, your own blood
That’s why I’ve cherished you since I was in your womb
And I’ll treasure you ’till I am in a tomb
But you’re miles away, it made me sad
I extend my arms to grasp the times we’ve had
With stream in my eyes, I kneeled and look above
Asking, could I know-how and feel a mother’s love?
The lines seemed to echo Lily’s every unuttered worry, capturing moments of loneliness and longing that she had overlooked, perceptions locked away beneath layers of busyness. Harry had been hurting, trapped in a storm of feelings he could not voice openly, and here he was, reaching out through ink and paper, crafting a lifeline from his anguish.
Tears cascaded quietly down her cheeks as realisation washed over her. This was a truth she had been oblivious to, a reality she had neglected in the chaos of their daily lives. She had always thought Harry was strong, confident, navigating the tumultuous waters of adolescence with ease. Yet, beneath the surface, he had been floundering, desperate for understanding.
Hedwig, perched gracefully on the curtain rod, let out a soft hoot, her head tilting with an uncanny understanding of human emotions. It was as if the owl held the wisdom of the ages, witnessing and perceiving what even Lily had failed to acknowledge. In the gentle, knowing gaze of her child’s pet, she found a moment of solace, a connection that transcended their silent suffering.
Lily sank deeper into the bed, the weight of regret enveloping her. Had she truly seen Harry’s pain? Had she turned a blind eye to the little signs, the faded smiles, the quiet nights? She should have done more, or at least asked the right questions. The guilt swirled in her mind, a tempest of thoughts that churned with every heartbeat.
She could have spent more time with him, sat beside him as he ate, or simply engaged him in conversation. The longing to turn back time surged within her, but she knew that wasn’t possible. All she had were the lingering echoes of his poem, a poignant call for help that struck a deep chord within her.
Exhaustion washed over her limbs, and she felt the day’s overwhelming emotions weighing down upon her. With a fragile sigh, she leaned back against Harry’s pillow, allowing her eyelids to flutter closed. Dreams of what could have been danced on the borders of her consciousness, tempting her with the promise of denial. Yet, she chose to confront her feelings, seeking comfort in a temporary escape from the intensity of her heartache.
She watched raindrops race down the glass, tracing paths that mirrored the tears that had fallen from her own eyes. Each drop pooled and merged with the next, much like the memories that swirled within her. The laughter, the chasing, the warmth of her son’s embrace—all felt just out of reach. She recalled the smell of his favourite food wafting through the apartment, filling every corner with life. Now, the air felt stale, carrying the weight of unspoken goodbyes.
Attempting to make sense of her current situation, Lily shifted in her chair, feeling as though her entire life had been hurled into chaos. Her work, which had once brought her fulfilment and purpose, now felt like a monotonous chore, devoid of joy.
The routines of her daily life had lost their significance, making her feel disconnected from the world around her. She could hardly remember the last time she had ventured outside, choosing instead to retreat into the sanctuary of her silence. The clamour of city life that had once invigorated her now felt jarring and distant. She avoided the world, feeling like a shadow among the living, someone whose vibrancy had been snuffed out. The very concept of her own existence seemed distant and uncertain, adding to her sense of isolation.
Consumed by a profound grief that penetrated every part of her, Lily was bombarded with unanswered questions that swirled in her mind. Why had fate chosen to take away James and her son? Why was she left alone to carry the weight of their loss; their laughter now mere whispers in her memory? Each unanswered question felt like a dagger to her heart, making the ache within her pulse like a haunting drum.
She struggled against the tide of despair that wrapped around her; the memories she cherished now felt like chains that weighed her down. Every corner of the apartment seemed to reverberate with the absence of their voices, the shadows of their presence lingering in the air like an unfinished work. The stark silence filled her with an all-consuming dread, threatening to swallow her whole.
After she had cried uncontrollably, Lily slumped against the sturdy wooden door of Harry’s closed bedroom, her hands clutching her tear-stained face as she attempted to regain her composure. The dull ache in her heart mirrored the silence that enveloped her. Memories of their last conversation echoed painfully in her mind, a verbal spat ignited by fear and uncertainty that had turned to bitter accusations and hurtful words.
For a moment, she lingered there, letting the warmth of the door seep into her. She had never meant to hurt Harry, but the weight of their unspoken words had pressed down too heavily on her heart. Resolutely, she wiped her tears with the back of her hand. Summoning every ounce of courage, she gently pushed open the door and cautiously peeked inside.
The sight before her brought a mix of nostalgia and heartache. Harry’s bedroom was a minimalist space, adorned only with posters of his beloved Quidditch team, magical creatures, and a Gryffindor banner that flapped lightly in the gentle draft from the window. The room was a refuge filled with remnants of a life steeped in magic and adventure.
A cosy bed, its maroon blanket meticulously arranged, gave off an inviting aura. Her gaze drifted to the window, cloaked in opulent velvet curtains, where slanted rays of light spilt across the wooden floor. At the far end of the room stood a solid wardrobe, its door slightly ajar, hinting at the clothes hurriedly put away during another frantic morning.
Her heart softened as she surveyed the cluttered desk, littered with well-loved notebooks and quills that told stories of Harry’s dreams and thoughts. As her eyes settled on the snowy owl perched peacefully in her cage, head nestled beneath her wing, Lily felt an unexpected pang of longing. Hedwig had always been a symbol of loyalty and companionship—a bond Harry shared with no one else.
With a slow, hesitant pace, Lily entered the room and made her way to the bed, where she gingerly lowered herself down. The space felt heavy, each corner whispering the weight of memories. She wasn’t ready to confront the past, but there was no escaping it now. Her eyes immediately found the desk directly across from her. There, a picture frame stood proudly on top, capturing a moment frozen in time—a beautiful image of her and James dancing joyfully in the park on their wedding day.
That day was etched into Lily’s heart with vibrant colours. The glow of the late afternoon sun, the gentle breeze that danced through the trees, and the sound of laughter ringing in the air as they swayed to their favourite song painted an unforgettable picture. A smile broke across her face as she admired the photograph, but it quickly faded, replaced by a creeping sense of guilt.
Just last night, she had been caught off guard when Harry, with his kind smile and bright eyes, had asked her to dance. It was a simple request, but the chaos swirling in Lily’s mind had led her to decline with a chill that still haunted her. The memory of Harry’s surprised expression masked her own feelings of regret, and now, staring at the photograph of her and James, she could only imagine the hurt she had caused. She had turned him away, too wrapped up in her own emotions to truly see him. The thought of him glancing at that photograph, the only one displayed on his desk, stung with the harshness of reality.
“Harry… my son,” Lily whispered, her voice quivering as emotion surged within her. “I’m so sorry.” Tears pooled in her eyes, heavy with the weight of her regrets.
Her gaze landed on the leather journal, a personal gift she had saved for his thirteenth birthday, one that they had hoped he would fill with adventures and dreams. The velvet cover was slightly worn, the initials, H.J.P., standing proud against the deep mahogany colour. She took a moment, inhaling deeply, recalling the day she presented it to him—the gleam in his eyes, his shy smile, the promise of secrets to be shared between its pages.
With trembling fingers, Lily opened the journal, and she could almost hear Harry’s voice, gentle and earnest, whispering to her through time. The pages creaked slightly as she turned them, and she soon found herself lost in the words he had crafted with care. Here, within these pages, lay a world that was missing from the one outside.
Her eyes lingered on an entry from when Harry was twelve years old. She couldn’t help but feel a rush of nostalgia and sorrow as she began to read. The words transported her back to a time when Harry was still discovering the world and himself.
“When I was introduced to Ron’s family for the first time, I was immediately struck by the genuine warmth and openness with which they interacted. Their communication was filled with love and care, creating an atmosphere that made me reflect on the lack of meaningful conversations I have with my own mother…”
Lily’s heart constricted. She remembered how Harry had always longed for the kind of relationship he perceived in Ron’s family. Conversations with their mother rarely delved beyond chores and the day’s events. Busy with work, she had often missed the simple, yet imperative moments Harry craved.
As she read on, sadness deepened within her.
“I yearn for the day when my mother and I can share the kind of profound and fulfilling discussions that seem to come so naturally to others. I miss her greatly and hold onto the hope that one day we will have the chance to have those rich and heartfelt conversations.”
Tears welled in her eyes as she set the journal down. Harry had been a sensitive soul, brimming with hopes, dreams, and fears he never fully expressed. How she wished he could see how those aspirations mirrored her own struggles now.
With a quick shake of her head, she gazed back at the journal, compelled to read the next entry penned a month prior.
“Upon my return home, my first night was not as I had hoped. My mother expressed her disappointment in me, believing that I had not put enough effort into my schoolwork, which was untrue…”
Lily let out a small, surprised laugh, knowing well that this was the common thread they both shared: misunderstanding. Harry had been so desperate to prove himself, yet his efforts had often gone unnoticed.
”Despite feeling disheartened, I understood her perspective. In an attempt to mend the situation, I took the initiative to prepare dinner that evening…”
Lily could almost envision Harry moving nervously about the kitchen, attempting to impress her with a less-than-perfect meal. She found solace in knowing he tried, even when it felt futile.
As she flipped to the next entry, the ink was still fresh, as if Harry had poured his soul into those recent thoughts. She leaned closer, a sense of urgency blooming in her chest.
“Even though it may be too early to lose all hope, I cannot ignore the growing distance between my mother and me…”
Lily winced. That distance was now tangible—a shadow that loomed over their household. Harry’s voice echoed in her head, aching with a shared loneliness she felt profoundly in recent months.
“Our interactions have become strained, with her spending most of her time alone in her room and barely acknowledging my efforts to connect with her. I feel lost and unsure of how to bridge the gap between us. Feeling desperate for a solution, my friend Hermione suggested that I write a poem as a way to communicate with my mother. Initially, I was hesitant about the idea, but I eventually decided to give it a try. I hope that sharing this poem with my mother will help us reconnect, even though I fear she may not fully grasp its meaning. Despite the uncertainty, I remain optimistic that there will be a chance for us to mend our relationship. My mother has always been my pillar of strength and unwavering support, and I deeply miss our close bond. The longing to have her back in my life is beyond words.”
She flipped through its pages, the crisp sound of paper tearing through the stillness of the room. Her heart raced as she scanned the rest of the pages, feeling a pang of unease ripple through her. With trembling fingers, she reached deeper into the journal, something shifting against her grasp. Unfurling the hidden note felt like unearthing a shard of her son’s heart. She steadied her breath, anticipation mingling with anxiety. As she read, a profound tenderness unfolded, spilling over her senses like a rush of warmth and regret. It was a poem—a delicate tapestry woven with his unfiltered emotions:
A MOTHER’S LOVE
By H.J.P
All the time I’ve been waiting
That you will see and know what I’m longing
Want to live a life that I’m yearning
Wake my senses and my world of dreaming
Since my life is in solitary
Wondering what if this would be
I’m with you but I didn’t feel any
Mum, do you hear my heart’s emissary?
You are my inspiration in everything I do
Even if it’s hard to bear and I can’t join the flow
But I felt you ignored those things, is it true?
Or you see my hardships but you didn’t view?
I open my arms, as well as my heart
To receive the love bound from the start
But when I went close, you turned your back
I tried to run to you but lost my track
Mother, could you please say to me
That you love me unconditionally
That all my deeds even bad you’ll embrace
And you’ll forgive me with your willful grace
Can you utter those words I’ve wanted to hear?
Can I have those eyes looking at mine?
May I hold those warm hands to enfold my sighs?
May I see your lips giving me a smile?
I love you even when the blue sky is gone
I need you when the darkness comes
Long for your touch, your hug so tight
That would ease my fright in the middle of the night
You grant me life, endow a chance
You give me your flesh, your own blood
That’s why I’ve cherished you since I was in your womb
And I’ll treasure you ’till I am in a tomb
But you’re miles away, it made me sad
I extend my arms to grasp the times we’ve had
With stream in my eyes, I kneeled and look above
Asking, could I know-how and feel a mother’s love?
The lines seemed to echo Lily’s every unuttered worry, capturing moments of loneliness and longing that she had overlooked, perceptions locked away beneath layers of busyness. Harry had been hurting, trapped in a storm of feelings he could not voice openly, and here he was, reaching out through ink and paper, crafting a lifeline from his anguish.
Tears cascaded quietly down her cheeks as realisation washed over her. This was a truth she had been oblivious to, a reality she had neglected in the chaos of their daily lives. She had always thought Harry was strong, confident, navigating the tumultuous waters of adolescence with ease. Yet, beneath the surface, he had been floundering, desperate for understanding.
Hedwig, perched gracefully on the curtain rod, let out a soft hoot, her head tilting with an uncanny understanding of human emotions. It was as if the owl held the wisdom of the ages, witnessing and perceiving what even Lily had failed to acknowledge. In the gentle, knowing gaze of her child’s pet, she found a moment of solace, a connection that transcended their silent suffering.
Lily sank deeper into the bed, the weight of regret enveloping her. Had she truly seen Harry’s pain? Had she turned a blind eye to the little signs, the faded smiles, the quiet nights? She should have done more, or at least asked the right questions. The guilt swirled in her mind, a tempest of thoughts that churned with every heartbeat.
She could have spent more time with him, sat beside him as he ate, or simply engaged him in conversation. The longing to turn back time surged within her, but she knew that wasn’t possible. All she had were the lingering echoes of his poem, a poignant call for help that struck a deep chord within her.
Exhaustion washed over her limbs, and she felt the day’s overwhelming emotions weighing down upon her. With a fragile sigh, she leaned back against Harry’s pillow, allowing her eyelids to flutter closed. Dreams of what could have been danced on the borders of her consciousness, tempting her with the promise of denial. Yet, she chose to confront her feelings, seeking comfort in a temporary escape from the intensity of her heartache.
Sign up to rate and review this story