AN: I know, I know. Another one-shot. After I said I needed to stop writing them as well. As always, if you recognise it, it's not mine.
They say I'm crazy. Maybe I am. I'm innocent though, I never killed those muggles. They cast Priori Incantatum on my wand, and yes, I did conjure a knife. Yes, they were stabbed. But they never asked me what it was for – they just assumed, because I bear the Dark Mark, that I was guilty.
I never wanted the Dark Mark. Not once I was old enough to think for myself, rather than repeating what my father had told me for years.
You never judged me by this Mark, you let me prove I was different.
"Do you know why I conjured that knife? Do you? Ask me, damn it!" That's what I said to them, at that fake sham of a trial, where they condemned me. They didn't ask. They said it was to kill the muggles, and nothing I could have told them would have changed their minds.
They sentenced me to a year in Azkaban, then the Dementor's Kiss. Just so they could watch me losing my mind slowly and painfully, suffering every minute of every hour of every day, all for a crime I didn't commit.
Some ministry worker visits every day, just to check I'm suffering enough. If they don't think my condition has deteriorated enough, then they order the Dementors to withhold my food for that day. It's a miracle I'm still alive, the number of times that's happened.
Harry Potter visited once, did he tell you? Said I was bad, but I didn't deserve this, and he'd try to get me out. Told me you loved me (it looked like it was the hardest thing he'd ever done), and that meant I couldn't be totally evil. I even found it in me to thank the git, are you proud of me?
He said he'd get me out, and I believe him. I hope he does, because I've been trying to count the days, and I reckon I've got about two months left. Two months, then the Dementor's Kiss and I turn into a mindless idiot. They said they plan to throw me into the same cell as my father, who had the Kiss performed on him months ago. I don't care if they do that now – I want to rip the man to shreds. He ruined my life, due to his association with Voldemort. If they do it after the Kiss, I won't even know who he is, let alone that I hate him so much.
I'm getting desperate now, I'm even talking to the rats. I don't want to lose my memories – it means I won't know who you are.
If you want to know about the knife, it was to cut the ropes that bound a group of captives. I believe you know two of them – Neville Longbottom and the Lovegood girl. They're free, and that's because I let them go.
I don't want to forget you. You're my angel, my redemption. I love you.
AN: Well, what do you think of this one? Please review. Please?