He's coming for me. I can feel it in my bones, in my heart, in my very soul. Despite the peaceful atmosphere, my demise is imminent. I was expecting him, but not so soon. A mere two years as Minister. I didn't even last as long as Fudge.

It will be like when the Potters died. I was five when it happened and I can still dimly remember the era of terror before his downfall. Everyone was tense, on the lookout, for as far back as I can remember. Until that day. The day when everyone just seemed to....relax. There were tears of course, but I was too young to understand why. But through the tears were smiles, genuine smiles, the first ones I could ever remember that weren't overlaid with an unspoken terror.

I can now picture James and Lily, and even Harry as I am now. Relaxed, sitting in front of the fire, reading the newspaper and playing with their son. I, of course, have no son, but I am reading the newspaper.

A knock comes at both their door in my imagination and at the front door in the real world. Two red heads glance up from their reading, one female and one male. They both know what is coming, but there is one fundamental difference between us. She becomes tight with fear and grabs the boy while the man answers the door.

I have no one to protect, no one to care for. There is only me, and I am unafraid, because I knew it was coming, as I have for months. I am only the Minister, after all. I can be replaced.

I answer the door, the man in my imagination doing so as well. He grips his wand tightly, I grip mine casually. The instant the door is open, he attacks, and is dead within moments. I do not.

Greeting the semihuman behind the door with a polite smile, I ask if he might share a spot of tea before he kills me. Caught off guard, he stammers a yes and I usher him in, feeling smug behind his back. I do not try and kill him. Long and tedious research has led me to believe that only Harry will be able to destroy this man, only Harry has the resources needed. What they are, I cannot be sure of, but I know I do not have them.

Pouring the tea, I offer him a cup, still smiling pleasantly. He's still a bit unnerved, I can tell. This encounter will no doubt trouble him to no end. That was my aim, of course. If he was going to kill me, I may as well leave him something to think about.

Halfway through his cup, he finally gets out his wand. I continue to drink tea pleasantly until my death, watching as he mutters the spell under his breath, only half satisfied with this particular murder. Disgruntled, he pulls the eaves down around my fallen form as he Apparates away, leaving behind a scene much like that which caused his downfall two decades before.

And so to Death I willingly went, in order to save my people.