Because it's only getting worse
Go and fill it up
With silver bullets
Because I can't see the sun
I know it's going away
And I can't make you love me
And you can't make me stayRyan Adams, Silver Bullets
He had done the unforgivable.
In his own mind, he was one of them, one of those…monsters.
It wasn't his fault. Even Dora, his dear, sweet Dora, told him that. They had no way of knowing that the cage was faulty. They had no way of knowing that he'd go straight for the nursery—no. He did not want to think of it.
He had done the unforgivable, and he must be punished.
They weren't going to give him the sentence. He had requested it, despite Dora's pleadings not to. They had waived the clause, given him a short prison sentence—not Azkaban, even, Muggle prison—and further testing at St. Mungo's. He asked for the sentence.
Tonight, he was going to be punished.
It was the first full moon since the incident. He had requested they do it here, and that he be conscious for the procedure. They would sedate him just enough so that he was docile, and bring him out here, where they would then drive a silver bullet into his heart. His ultimate punishment.
He was unafraid. Out of one eye, he could see Dora, standing with her mother and father, sobbing passionately, begging silently. Out of the other, his daughter's grave—Andromeda Catherine Lupin, "Anna", beloved daughter
September 15, 2000 to December 27, 2001
And he knew that this was what he deserved.
He let out a yelp—it hurt surprisingly less than he had anticipated. It would be quick.
Not like for Anna, Anna who he had ripped to shreds…Anna whose laugh rang in his ears even as the bullet did…and then there was nothing.
He had done the unforgivable. This was what he deserved.