Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter Universe (character/locations/spells/etc) and make no profit, financial or otherwise, from this work.
I was devestated when I realized the extent of their betrayal. Friends, family, even the girl I'd been drugged into loving had worked together on this one. Everyone had their part to play, and they played it well.
Snape, the spy, only had to convince his best friend to switch secret keepers with subtle suggestions; this had the added benefit to Snape of orchestrating his school yard foe's death. Even more than a decade later it did not occur to him that this made him pathetic.
The Dursley's had the slightly more difficult task (well, not for them) of being rude and cruel and even mildly physically abusive. Their job was to make me think of Hogwarts and The Burrow as a refuge, make them places I would be so desperate to go that I would do anything asked of me.
Hagrid had the job of molding a young boy's first opinions of Wizards; who was good and who was not.
The Weasley's had a variety of jobs between them, from showing me the first kindness from contemporaries to ensuring friendship and providing a sense of camaraderie. Ron was to be my best friend, with Ginny as the new Lily Potter.
Hermione Granger was to ensure that I learned only what 'they' wanted me to know; she took on the job with relish.
Albus Dumbledore was to be me hero and guide me on the path 'for the greater good'.
Voldemort was to be my nemesis.
Their plan worked perfectly until the summer before my fifth year. They forgot to tell the Minister his part in controlling my life; when I was put on trial for using magic out of school my wand was snapped, my core was bound, and I was exiled. The Dursley's refused to house me any longer. The wards on their home fell; their deaths heralded the return of The Dark Lord to the ignorant sheep of the Wizarding World.
As much as the Minister tried to pin their deaths on me he couldn't; they were clearly killed with magic (most of the neighborhood was) while the Dark Mark danced in the sky almost merrily. The presence of clear Dementor victims in neighboring subdivisions only made things worse for the Ministry. It proved quite clearly that I had been telling the truth; the public began demanding to know what else I'd been telling the truth about. They also began demanding my return.
They would be disappointed.
I was long gone from Surrey by then and they could not trace me while my core was bound. The Wizarding World was well and truly fucked. I did not care then, and neither do I care now. The dead have no concern for these things. I was killed not long after the Dursley's; not by Death Eaters, but by illegal slavers who took me for a runaway and misjudged the sedative they injected me with.
I watch now sometimes, and nearly worry about Wizards. Only nearly worry; they must face the consequences of their actions. It is long past time for the Wizards of the world to get off their lazy arses and do something for themselves. Many are already beginning to do that. All it took was for me to die.