Strange phenomena occur in my brain...

Aside from the fact that to write this kind of things means to be mentally ill, but to write them directly in English is to be loony. I'm an Italian who can't write in Italian anymore -.-". And I'm not even sure I can actually write in English.

I do not own Harry Potter... otherwise I wouldn't be writing these things :D

Hope you enjoy!

Never understand

I wish I did not trust you, Albus. I wish I could look inside those sparkling eyes of yours and see nothing but an old puppet master... but I can't.

I trust you and it is my conviction. The real flame that burns my soul. Not my love for Lily, not the searing contempt for myself or the beastly remorse for my atrocious deeds and the wrong choices. No. It's the pure, reckless, undeniable trust I have in you.

I never learn, do I?

My life is signed by as many errors as Longbottom's essays. But there are some among them that are written down in my very being, they are part of me, and those errors I can't help.

I can't help looking up to you. I can't help getting attached to you. Seeking your approval, your affection. I can't help trusting you. Because you have the key to my soul, that very key that I swallowed so many years ago hiding it from the world. I swallowed it down for no one to ever get it... and I found myself throwing it up in front of you on a wind battered hill.

Anything.

I would have done anything.

My soul was already corrupt, what else could I lose?

What a naive and stupid boy I was back then! What was I for you? Of course I had nothing worthwhile to give you, and you had come to understand that I had nothing to offer, nothing you would have been able to take away from me. But you did. You took the key of my very own trust and even when you broke it you could still use it. It was still yours.

How many keys do you have in your collection, Albus? I bet you don't even remember where they are from, you just dispose of them as you wish. Because they are there... there for you to use them.

Have you ever really trusted me, Albus?

I was used to see my trust being abused and ripped apart. So many had simply used it and thrown it away. But when you did, it hurt. It hurt because it was a torment to which I could not escape. For as much as you could torture the last leftovers of my heart, you owned it. Devoted to Lily, but owned by you, Albus.

I trust you.

And you? Do you trust me? Or your grand plans for the greater good just hang above the petty dedication of a small and nameless soldier?

I trust you.

And Potter... Potter trusts you too. But you? Do you trust him? Or is it just blind arrogance, sheer confidence in yourself alone, presumptuous security in your infallible plan the one thing that led you to look after the boy all this years when in fact you trained him to die?

I trust you.

The Order trusts you. The staff of Hogwarts, its children. The entire magical community. They trust you. And you? Do you trust them, or are they nothing more than abstract ideals in your eyes where ideas are high and people degraded?

Is it the same for me? What am I to you, Albus? Yet another flag of your magnanimity? Or you feel a deep satisfaction every time you look at me and see a Death Eater who denied his Lord and pledge himself to you instead? What am I? Yet another medal to yourself to wear on your sleeve instead of your heart? Yet another doll to play with?

My trust in you is nothing more than a barrel from which to draw. A contract to be shown off to a debtor. A debtor who owes you his very life.

You did not trust me when you asked me to kill you. It was not trust that I saw in your eyes, but the sheer, uncompromising security that I trusted you. It's easy when you have all things for granted, is it not, Headmaster? Knowing that anyone around you would do anything for you just because they believe in you. Potter, me, the Order. But you just use our trust - my trust - for we are nothing to you – I am nothing to you. You don't trust me. You just use me, use my trust in you to have me do what you want.

I know. And still, I will do whatever you ask me, Albus.

You see, the key in your hand is missing its keyhole, for I am already opened up for you... for you to do anything you want with me. You do have everything for granted. I pray deep in my heart that my trust for you is not ill placed. But I know. I know it isn't.

Whatever you may do, whatever you may think I don't care.

You may abuse my trust as much as you will, you may do whatever you want of me... and I still don't care. Because I trust you. And I know you're worth it. I know you hold reasons beyond my understanding. I know your plans are flawless even with their own flaws.

The only regret I have is that you will never understand. You will never see beyond your half-moon glasses at the affection and the hope so many people place in you. You will never understand why they do what you ask... they just do. You will never see the unconditional trust and love of a boy who I know will be willing to die for his friends, for all those who have already died and to stop others from dying.

Selflessness, self-abnegation, self denial... love: words you use so often and yet you will never comprehend. Words I never use, but which I know all too well for my own good.

He doesn't trust me, Potter, yet I find myself trusting him. I know he will make it, he will stop Voldemort, put an end to all of this. And you know why? Because you said it. You're so sure he will succeed but for reasons that are beyond you: he will because he realizes everyone holds faith in him. He knows so many depend on him, look up to him and he will not let them down. He will not disappoint them, he will not betray them. Because he owes them. He will succeed, Albus, because he's trusted and trusts his friends back.

Mutual trust. That is something you would never be able to understand. Something I will never be able to experience.

I'm going to die for you. I know I will. I will die because it was your plan for me to die. You wanted me to be the Master of the Elder Wand. But things didn't go as you planned that night. And yet, I wonder now if you indeed wanted that flaw to be in the plan. In the end, everything will go as you intended just as always, because you are Albus Dumbledore and I wish I did not trust you, but I do.

I killed you because I trusted you.

I die because I trust you.

But you... you will never understand.