Running, running, running.
My breath came out in harsh pants, my legs feeling like jelly, I pushed myself on.
What other option did I have?
All my life, I've ran. Ran both ways, been harmed at both ends.
Behind me, I can hear them calling my name. In front of me, they call too. I have no where to go. But I keep going.
Because there is no lesser of two evils. I keep going, going, going, going on to my death. It may not be painless. It may not be quick. But I don't care. It's still there. They want to dispose of me. Not like the others.
To the others I am a weapon, to be made, used, discarded. Never mind that the weapon is getting rusted, broken, tired.
Just patch it up enough to use for next time, and go again, because it's just a thing. Just an object, with no feelings.
Never mind that it has nightmares every night. Never mind that the patches are breaking, that I'm breaking into pieces before their eyes. Never mind that I've never known love, just war, hate, fear and pain. Never mind that I'm dying inside. Never mind that I'm just one boy, just a child who they've put the weight of a world on.
They can fight their own fucking wars.
So on I run. The Death Eaters turn around and stare at me like I'm a lunatic. I probably am.
"Go on. Kill me." I whisper. "I'm not armed, not running, no protection."
Behind me, I hear Hermione screaming my name, begging me to come back, even after she's deceived me all my life. Dumbledore telling me not to be dumb, not to listen to my emotions, after he demanded me to suppress them all my life. McGonagall commanding I come back, after forcing me away. Ron holding his mother back from coming after me and trying to get me back, even though the fact she was betraying me never mattered before.
"Go on."
They run and fetch their master.
"Why?" he asks. "After all these years, why?"
I'm too emotional to speak. I remember all those times I though I caused deaths, to find out now they never died, just pretended to, so I would have a motive to kill the man who'd never tried to harm me, only free me.
I remember the pain of growing up, being beaten by my muggle family, while my real parents just sat around, thinking it was "For The Best".
I remember how heartbroken I was, finding out my two father figures, Sirius and Remus, were dead, cutting myself and hunting Voldemort restlessly to escape my pain, while they sat around behind closed doors, "For The Best".
I remember seeing all those dead bodies carried off, killing endless Death Eater's to avenge my friends, when really they sat in empty classrooms waiting for me to finish off the enemy, "For The Best".
I remember the thousands and thousands of muggles and mudbloods killed by the 'Light Side' to make their claims against the Death Eaters seem realistic, so they could come to power, "For The Best."
"For the best." I whisper.
I can see he's not going to kill me. He never wanted to, but he had to take out the threat to his family. Who I killed, for the best.
"Please."
He can see I carry a burden larger than his own, even after I've killed his children, his wife, his friends, his adopted children. I know of hundreds of Death Eaters who went dark, because their family were killed by me.
Bellatrix comes up next to her adoptive father. I remember her. She has no one now. I killed her sister, daughter, husband, pets even.
"Please?" she asks.
I can see him fighting with himself. "Bella…"
"Father, please." Her eyes are full with tears at the memory of her lost ones.
Suddenly behind me, I hear Dumbledore. I spin around and jump. As the spell hits me, I feel blessed relief.
Everything is fading away, fading, fading, till it's just a speck of my consciousness in my mind, and a screamed "Harry!" in my ears.
And then… Nothing.
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Wow. Possibly my most emotional one yet.
Reviewe please!
