How does it go? Can we take what luck brings through and turn it into part of our soul to eat the better of us? Is all the matters the chance that breaks through the right side? Can secrets we don't know, what has risen beyond eyes, beyond touch, beyond knowledge, still take us down as if we were insignficant slugs staggering our way blindly through what we call life? What I have escaped 4 times, will I escape again? Do I take the luck for granted? Was it me, my own courage, my own might, of a 14 year old boy, that stood up to the most feared man of the world? No.
But then what? What is it, what is the purpose? To live 9 months and travel through hell for 3? Does my own fear scare me as joy spreads through the air I breathe, or can I be happy? If I'm famous, why am I like this? Why do I wonder if I want to live? Why am I famous, because my life has been ruined, destroyed by the same man, that man. Never. But, why? Do the questions ever end? What does the world care of the feelings of a teenager? Can it be?
I wake up to find myself imprisoned. Imprisoned in my own cell, my own little Azkaban, floating through my head. Will I live through the day? Does she like me? Is he back? Alive, alive and well? My godfather, has he been caught? Does anger flow through my blood, or does fear grasp it, sprawl across, and sufficate it?
'Kill, rip, tear,' what does this all mean? Does life itself go to high stakes with every breath I take? Cho Chang, is the only one, who I ever told, what I am telling you today. The real me.
The real Harry Potter. The Boy who Lived. The Boy who Dies.............?