I suppose the truth of the world is, it sucks. It's like fate is standing beside you, just waiting to kick you in the metaphorical nads. The only place safe is in your mother's womb, and even then, you can hear the outside world giggling like a schoolgirl and rubbing it hands in gleeful anticipation.

My life has been the most and sucked more then some. Compared to some of my friends, I don't have any right to complain, and yet, I do.

I was born to good people, to a good family. Though my mother and father have been in St. Mungo's for most of my life, they're still alive. They may not be able to remember their names, let alone mine, but they're there. Some days, I don't know if that's better then them being dead, or worse.

My grandmother is an amazing woman and for her to take me in, I have no right to complain. Some days though, I just wish she wasn't so strict. I just wish, sometimes, that she was twenty years younger and not so set in her ways. Of course, I also wish my parents weren't so damaged. If wishes were fishes, there'd be no more water in the sea, I suppose.

I've heard the rumors, that the prophecy that spelled He-Who-Mu-, screw it, Voldemort's demise named two people. I heard the rumors that it named me too, but I don't buy it. Yes, I was able to stand up to the tosser, and yes, I did cut off his snake's head, but fight him, himself? I don't think I have it in me. My friend's would say I could do it, but I really don't believe them.

And why should I? All through school, I was the one left behind. In my dorm, Dean and Seamus were best friends and Ron and Harry were two/thirds of a Golden Trio. Where did that leave me? Standing outside the little clubs, alone and shivering. I'm not bitter about it, I'm just stating a fact.

In the classroom, I was lucky not to end up in the Hospital Wing. I was hopeless with wandwork, still am some days. Potions was a disaster all in of itself. It wasn't just the fact that Snape scared me, it was simply the making of it. I understood most of the properties, I just never could get them to blend right. Of course, not reading the directions didn't help.

The only class that I could truly shine in was Herbology. Plants made sense. They were easy, understandable. Taking care of them, getting them to grow, it was simple to me. There was no wand waving, no throwing ingredients into a cauldron and praying it worked. It was just me and the plant. I can live with that.

I suppose the day when I was being noticed by everyone else, came in Fifth year. Umbridge on the loose, and Dumbledore's Army up and running. I immediately threw myself into the middle, thinking maybe, just maybe, I could learn what I needed to, to make my parents proud. Then news came, the break-out of Azkaban, Bellatrix Lestrange free. I suppose the day I read that, I decided that I was done being a fool. I was going to learn everything I can, and I was going to make sure that Bellatrix ever crossed my path, it would be the last thing she'd do.

Of course, I learned that didn't work in the Department of Secrets. I probably knew the fact I could never take on one of the most powerful Death Eaters in the world. I had wanted to kill her though. I had wanted to torture her like she torture my parents. I think I could've, but I didn't. After the battle, I always wondered why I didn't.

Sixth Year was a disaster, with the death of Dumbledore. Then Seventh Year began. It was the year that changed everything. I grew up more then I ever though possible that year. I grew from an Auror's son to a commander of an army. People from school that year still call me Commander, even if they weren't part of the DA.

I hated Snape. I hated the Carrows. I wanted them gone, I was angry that they had infiltrated the one place that had been safe. Then I remembered that Hogwarts had never been safe. Hogwarts was a place of magic, but it was also the biggest target in the world. Three-headed dogs, basilisks, dementors, dragons, psychotic teachers who think they're doing what's right. They all happened at Hogwarts. The school had never been safe.

I'm not making a good point, I was never good at essay writing. The main point of this entire thing was the fact that the world sucks. It's malicious, evil, and enjoys nothing more then building us up and then kicking us to the ground. It likes rubbing our faces in our weaknesses and our failures. We can't really fight back, because it's constant. We can live, we can stand back up when we fall, but it'll keep doing it to us.

That's probably the most depressing thought in the universe, but it's true. It's not just my life that sucks. I've seen it in everyone around me, especially now. After the war, people step back and realize just what they've lost. They start trying to rebuild, but deep in their hearts, they know it's going to fall again.

My life is a pretty good example. I've gone as far down as I can go and I've gone up, but I've never stayed up for long. And optimist will tell you that I've never stayed down for long either, but I'm not one. I've led people into battle and I've watched them die. That strips away a piece of you, one of the pieces that define you. It takes away a part of your humanity, knowing that you've led people to die.

Names are forever imprinted in my soul, the names of the people I've called to die. I guess it's all just an example of the point I'm trying to make.

The world simply sucks, but it's the best we've got, and we have to do what we can.