Disclaimer: These characters (or rather, character) do NOT belong to me. If you haven't gotten that before now, you need to reread the books.

Dedication: to my best friends, you know who you are, who help to make this sorry world a place worth living in. I love you all.

Some people believe they are immortal. People die, but not them. I know I'm going to die, I accept that it isn't a matter of if, but of when and how. I know this all already.

For years I've been dying. Metaphorically, of course. I've been dying for so long that I can't remember when I lived. When I was truly alive. I suppose there must have been a time when that was the case, but I don't recall.

Those years have been shrouded by the pain and horror of the following moments. At times, I think that's all that's kept me alive, the pain. I could have ended it years ago. I could have finished this, but I didn't.

I walked away and I am now lost to this cause. This fool's errand is the reason I gave my life. I gave this pathetic excuse for a life up for a cause I know nothing about.

I tried to think of this as anything other than what it is, but it is only a worthless cause. I didn't need to do this, but I did, and now I'm a lamb to the slaughter of either side that wants me. I was thrown to the lions a long time ago.

I believe that there is no escape for me. No escape for any of this. No one can escape this war. I say war, but really it is no war. It is a massacre. No one will survive this, not whole. But that is not a worry for me – I was never whole in the first place. There was always something missing in me. Many believe it to be my heart.

It is not my heart that is missing, I can still feel it inside me. But, like the rest of me, it is a cold, dead thing.

This war is only the final string in the noose around my neck. A noose that tightens every moment I remain breathing. Each beat of my blackened heart twists the dagger that lies in it.

Some days I wish for an end. Any end. The war, this endless try for peace, or as much peace as possible. My end.

But even if an end came, would anyone care? No, they would not. I am a fence-straddler, inadvertently helping and hindering both sides at once. And the fence I perch upon is sharp and high, and every day puts me dangerously closer to the edge. One day I will fall, but not today. No, not today.

And so it is that I am here, left for dead, miles away from my home, but not safe. Nowhere is safe for such as I.

Am I death-eater or shining light? A spy or a traitor? Even I do not truly know. This all started with good intentions. But morals and kind-nature did not save me. Nothing can save me. And even if it could, no one would want it to.

I am a hated man, doomed to die. I am sworn to death no matter what I choose. But aren't we all? From the moment we are conceived we are destined to die. It is not a matter of if, but of when and how. So I fight this war, live this life and try to survive. Try to do the right thing.

Isn't it ironic, me doing the right thing? I am fortunes fool, and life is nothing if not ironic.

So I shall try to do my part for this war. Me and my cold, dead heart.

Guessed who? Review and tell me!