They say that when you die, someone will remember you. I suppose that's true, but what happens when they die? All you are is someone who died back then. There's a lot of vague hand waving going on, and no one is pointing in a specific direction, a mirror image of your death.

I was never sure of what happened after I fell through that thing. I think it was the ancient veil- a device to torture and kill murderers and arsonists in the earlier days. I could hear sounds. I heard a male's voice yelling, the sounds of violence going on above me- or was it below me? next to me?- and I saw flashes of light.

I couldn't believe it. Bella, my cousin, killed me. I didn't want to believe, but what other explanation could be offered for my fall? A slip of the wand?

Somewhere around the veil, a baby wailed at the top of its lungs. I remember quite clearly screaming as a child, blessed with a good set of lungs, for my mother. I wasn't old enough to comprehend anything at all (except eating and sleeping), especially the cruel ways of my family. I remember clearly, even now, my mother's kind friend picking me up and rocking me to sleep so often. I can still see her face, though she has been dead for over twenty years. Soft and kind, Helena had a daughter of her own to take care of. But she always rocked me silently and took care of me and her child.

My childhood was cut short. I didn't understand it then. Cruelty was taking over love, and a war brewed silently in the depths of dark caves. A rebellion formed. People joined either side; none were undecided. When I first went to Hogwarts, the war began to heighten, but still I didn't understand.

At school, I was popular. I made friends with James and Remus and Peter. I broke rules, scared the caretaker's cat over and over, spent hours in detention, annoyed Lily so often she began to threaten me, and I dated a new girl every week.

Teenagers' years are normally filled with the drama of love, lust, and school, but the teens' years then were filled with the drama and horror of a war that would determine the fate of the entire Wizarding world. Murders and disappearances were reported every day. Nobody knew what to do, who to trust.

I trusted Peter Pettigrew. He betrayed me. He betrayed Lily and James. I didn't want to believe it, I couldn't believe it, but like with Bella, there was no other explanation. I wanted to believe it had been a mistake, that someone else had posed as Peter under the Polyjuice Potion and somehow got hold of the secret or perhaps posed as Peter when the charm was performed.

Unluckily for me, nothing like this was running through my head when I went after Peter. It had been proved. He was the traitor. I almost killed him, but he got the better of me. I hated him, and I hated myself even more.

Twelve long years in Azkaban didn't teach me patience. I broke out and searched that murdering bastard. I found him, and I lost him. Failure riddled my heart. I had failed Lily, James, Harry, myself.

I duelled with Bella in my mind again. I could hear Neville Longbottom's voice screaming, "Dubblebore!"

I sighed in my mind; Dumbledore was late. I was dying slowly, reliving every single thing in my life- the good and the bad. The voices murmured for the longest time, and then there was silence. I felt my body go slightly numb. I heard Dumbledore again as he whispered, "Ennervate."

I heard another voice, Ginny's I think, telling someone I died. Then I heard Hermione's weak voice saying, "I'll miss him."

When I die, I will be remembered.