"The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary, for men are capable of every wickedness."

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Someone had once told me that all things truly wicked start from some innocence. At the time I was as innocent as I was ignorant and had taken no mind to this, but I guess in the end you start thinking about the beginning... wondering where everything went to hell.

There were signs and warnings all around me, screaming at me like a banshee that I would soon snap. That I would soon bring more pain and death to the emotionally scarred and war-torn men and women around me.

First was that insatiable know-it-all Hermione. Before anyone else had even the faintest idea that I was spiraling toward eternal darkness, she had me cornered in the empty family room of the Weasleys' the night of Fred's funeral, demanding why I had changed so much. Of those I had turned on and hurt, it was her with those accusing, I-told-you-so eyes that had affected me so deeply.

Had I really changed that much for her notice? Granger's complaints consisted of my ever-paling skin, my evident lack of sleep from the growing bags under my eyes, and the thinner I looked every day. All of this led to my bitterness and hostility toward those around me. No act of kindness could bring me to smile any longer.

Ron didn't go without a fight, that's for sure. Too bad he was such a poor duelist, because if I hadn't killed him so quickly, I probably could have been stopped. I didn't bother with his family, as they were nowhere to be found.

The rest were just maggots in need of exterminating and most went without any fight at all. None of them worth mentioning, but I'll tell you anyway. There was a block full of Muggles I had destroyed when Ron made me particularly angry one night at the pub. I think that was the first act of mindless violence I committed for everyone to realize I was truly off my rocker. Then Dean and Seamus came to visit, but never made it back home. Finally, a group of Aurors who tried to take me in were incinerated in front of twenty or thirty other citizens of Magical London.

What was the cause of all this you might ask? Was it the memory of dear friends fallen in the war that still haunted my nightmares? The Burrow was almost always empty, as memories of Fred lay waiting around every corner and none of them wanted to be there anymore. For myself, Number 12 Grimmauld Place was no better. Every passing second in that god-forsaken place made me angrier and more hostile.

Or was it simply that the loss of every member of the family held dear to Harry James Potter had finally caught up to me? I had never known my mother and father, of course. But with the passing of Moony and Tonks, the only connection I had left to my mother and father had been severed and Sirius was never coming back. I never truly considered the Dursleys family, merely inconveniences standing in the way of having my own life. They were the easiest to kill.

No, it was neither of these things. I realize now as I face the executioner, the cause of my downfall could simply be summed up as a bad case of a broken heart. I know what you're thinking, Ginny wouldn't take me back after the war. Or perhaps she did take me back, but cheated on me while we were together or even possibly while we were married. Truth be told, that couldn't be farther from the truth. In fact, it may have just been the opposite.

Life with Ginny had gone smoothly after the end of the war. She welcomed me back with open arms and never spoke a word of her feelings about my leave of absence to find Voldemort's Horcruxes.

It worked out so well at first that I willed myself to believe it was meant to be. That her and I would be married soon after she graduated just as Ron and Hermione were planning to do and bring three beautiful children into the world. The names had already been picked; as there would be James, Lily, and Albus Severus in remembrance of four of the wisest and bravest people ever to have graced this Earth with their lives. Our life would be perfect.

Maybe I got cold feet, maybe I just wasn't ready. All I know is that it took one small affair with a married woman to show me what true love was and it took the end of that affair to show me what dying must have felt like.

No, not dying. It was such a pure agony of what I had to bear afterwards that it couldn't have simply been dying. In truth, my downfall can be accredited to my lack of willpower against temptation, because it was only after I succumbed to the enticement of this goddess that I truly fell in love.

It's funny, really, how the sweetest voice in our world belongs to the demon that is temptation. And that demon, my friendly readers, was Fleur Delacour.

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The next day, the Veela home-wrecker herself saw the headlines of the Daily Prophet and couldn't resist picking up a copy. Fleur wept silently as she read the article, remembering the number of times she had guiltily taken Harry into her bed while Bill was away.

The Boy-Who-Lived... No-More

by Rita Skeeter

He who brought down You-Know-Who at one year old. He who thwarted You-Know-Who's every effort to kill him every year Harry attended Hogwarts. He who defeated the Dark Lord once and for all in the Great Hall of Hogwarts itself.

He who betrayed his fiance and murdered his closest friends.

Even his heroic deeds could not pardon Harry James Potter from receiving the Dementor's Kiss, which he received yesterday, July 31st, his nineteenth birthday. Cruel and ironic? Maybe. But the hero-turned-villain deserved nothing less for his viscious and horrific crimes.

The first victims of Potter's wrath were merely innocent Muggles surrounding a pub in London. It is rumored that Harry had a row with his best friend at the time, Ronald Weasley, and ended up incinerating the entire block-full of people. Aurors arrived on the scene too late to catch him, but then began a nationwide search for the young man when a witness they Obliviated had told them the suspect had a 'strange, lightning bolt-shaped scar' on his forehead. The Ministry officials knew of no other suspects that fit that description.

Shortly after, a group of ten Aurors and twenty-five other Ministry officials raided the home of Potter's former godfather, Sirius Black, intent on bringing the boy in for questioning. Harry was found inside the home, but refused to 'go quietly', as Muggles say, and killed every Auror present, leaving the other officials alive to tell the tale. They reported back to the Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Harry was placed atop the Ministry's Most Wanted list.

Before Potter was finally captured, his friends Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Seamus Finnegan, and Dean Thomas were all found dead at the Weasley residence. Harry's Muggle relatives, Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley Dursley, were also found dead in their residence in Little Whinging a week later by Muggle police, who are still baffled as to the cause of death.

Potter was finally brought in after being incarcerated by a small army of Aurors, including the Minister himself, former head of the Auror department. Harry James Potter was charged with 44 counts of murder and seventeen counts of use of the Killing Curse. His receiving of the kiss was originally scheduled for 12 noon today, but was moved up to 11 PM last night instead.

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A/N: SPECIAL PROPS TO AerintheWhiteKnight FOR THE ARTICLE IDEA AT THE END.

Thanks for reading my first piece of work. I know there's a hell of a lot of plot holes, but I figured I would let the reader use his/her imagination to figure it out. I can use all the reviews you're willing to give because, as I said before, It's my first work and even criticism is welcomed. Any writer knows you can always get better. Thanks!