Chapter 1:
Although I would like to say that J.K. Rowling made a gripping fairytale filled with romance, bravery, good-ness, and happiness and that's it. A fairytale that made everyone constantly happy and so over-joyed they had had tears brimming every second. Happy tears only. How I would LOVE to say that when I read the "Harry Potter" series, that she so bravely wrote, I never once felt like chucking the book at the wall because of her stupidity and her wickedness. How I would be over-joyed to say that any man, woman, or child would be able to grasp the meaning of her words straight away.
You have no idea how much I want to be able to truthfully say these things. How much I want to be able to look a six year old child in the eyes and tell them that it ended out ok. That only the bad guys lost and that the good guys won, but that's not the case.
J.K. Rowling imagined a boy. A boy whose life was filled with shadows, ugliness, and neglect. She created a world that had so much potential to be good but because the occupants were who they were it turned into such an ugly shade of horror. That the people inside turned out to be not good, not evil, but all completely different shades of grey.
She made that book because she wanted people to know my story. So that muggles have the chance. So that I had a chance. I risked so much and needed so much help. Both magical and non-magical blood was spilt, because of me. I couldn't do it. I needed help which led to people trying to help me. Which led to their and those they cared about deaths.
I, Harry James Potter, am here now to tell you the true story. How hard it was. It will only be quick, simple and mostly filled with sorrow and unhappiness but it will show how hard it really was. It will show the side that she censored out. Everyone will write out our experiences out and share them with the world, because the world needs to know. Needs to know how vile and foul it really is and how much it shouldn't be here.
None of us should be here.
