A/N: This is a story I posted here a long time ago and never finished. I am re-editing it and reposting it, and of course finishing it. I would like to thank everyone who read it the first time around and gave me such wonderful reviews. Please review, it keeps me writing. And now on to the first chapter…
How The End Began
"Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards."
-Soren Kierkegaard
"As memory may be a paradise from which we cannot be driven, it may also be a hell from which we cannot escape."
-John Lancaster Spalding, Aphorisms and Reflections
Drip-drop-drip-drop. Water splashes on my face cold, wet, freezing, leaking from the grimy stone ceiling overhead. I don't move. I don't deserve to move. I deserve to be uncomfortable. I can't help, but think of the darkest thoughts of my life, even without the demonters, who are long gone. I want to forget, but I can't I shouldn't. I deserve the pain. I deserve the feeling of knifes stabbing and twisting at my heart.
My thoughts continuously walked the story of my life. Even the happy moments hurt as they show things that can never again be. They seem to be forewarnings of what was to come. I've begun to see all the moments together in sort of a stairwell. All the moments leading up and up to that moment and then the rest of my life slowly sliding down and down and down. I thought about my last year at Hogwarts, the year that would change my life forever, and not just my life, the life of every wizard and witch, perhaps, even the Muggles. That's the irony of my life. I wished my whole life to be famous, and know I'm more wickedly famous then I could have ever possibly imagined, and I would give anything to be the completely unknown and unstained Ronald Weasley.