((Front Page of the Daily Prophet in August 1996))
In my dreams, they want to know. They plead with me to save them, and when I don't, they want to know why. It must seem to them like I'm not trying when I want nothing more than to save them, and they are so angry when I can't.
And then I wake up, to the cold, cruel world, where an uncle abuses me, my parents died when I was a baby, my godfather just died weeks ago, I could easily end up in Azkaban for the rest of my life because of something I did in anger, and the last connection I have to my parents won't even look at me because it's my fault that my godfather is dead.
Sometimes I think the dreams would be better. There'd be tons of people hating me, pleading with me, but life would be better. Here, in life, in being awake, I've got to deal with so much I don't want to deal with. Amelia Bones is trying to find a loophole in the unforgivable law, but the curse worked for about a millisecond so there isn't one.
It also doesn't help that I'd really like to kill the bitch that killed my godfather. Somehow, I don't think the enraged look in my eyes at the very mention of her name is going to look good at the bloody miserable trial that's coming up next week.
The whole bloody world, the Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly, everyone acts like I betrayed them by casting that curse. They don't know me. And they don't know what I was feeling in that moment. I had just lost the only chance I would ever have for a family and it was her fault. It wasn't until later that I realized it was actually my fault.
I don't understand the wizarding world sometimes. They sent Sirius to prison without a trial for twelve frickin' years, and no one, not even his best friend, questioned his guilt. They can't have privacy laws or Rita Skeeter would be dust in the wind by now. They put people through the torture of dementors. They slander people to hide problems.
I don't know. It's not just. No, I'm not arguing my trial and likely very long sentence to Azkaban – I know I bloody well screwed up – but how could Crouch get away with that? An innocent man in hell for twelve years with no trial?
It's a good thing that man (Crouch) is dead or I'd kill him myself.
It's thoughts like those that make it a good thing I'll probably be in Azkaban soon. Because I can't seem to stop them. I wonder if it's the connection to Voldemort, but that would be pushing the blame off on someone else, and I was in complete control of myself when I Crucio'd Lestrange. I wanted revenge, I wanted her to feel the pain that I was feeling, to know what it was like.
Not that she bloody well could, considering she doesn't have a heart.
I think it was Dumbledore who told me that Sirius wouldn't appreciate me dedicating my life to getting revenge for him.
Do I look stupid? Of course he wouldn't. He'd want me to move on and play a prank or something, but I can't. I don't want to want revenge but it controls me.
The mention of her name makes me so furious I nearly lose control. The memory of her taunting me, insulting him after she'd just killed him, telling me I didn't have enough hate to completely cast Crucio on her – it makes me so furious. I can't deal with it, and that, folks, is why it's a damn good thing that Amelia Bones won't find a loophole in that law.
After all, who wants a savior who can't even save himself?
Harry J. Potter