Letters that close doors

September 14, 2026

To the one I made smaller to feel taller:

I did it knowingly. Not in a temper, and not by accident of upbringing; I chose it the way I chose everything then, with a witness, for effect. You are owed the harm named once, exactly, with nothing on its far side. So, plainly: I made you smaller in rooms where I wanted to be bigger, and I did it on purpose, more than once.

I won't explain. Every reason is a second injury; an explanation asks you to weigh my reasons against what they cost you. You have carried enough for me.

I won't say I'm sorry you feel. I won't apologize for how it looked. I won't ask to be forgiven, or to be friends again, or for an answer. If any of that ever comes, it comes from you, on your schedule, in your words.

I fixed the thing in me that did it. You don't have to believe that yet; belief is not the price of this letter. Nothing here comes with a bill, or a deadline, or a hook.

Yours, with no request attached, Draco Malfoy