Disclaimer: Don't own Harry potter, not making any money off of this blah blah.
I stared down at the bare wood floor. It was cold beneath my feet. A small breeze blew down my neck from the window. The icy breath of death. It was only a matter of time. It couldn't be avoided forever.
Thank you father. I'm what you wanted me to be. I'm your perfect creation. Cold and unfeeling, much like my bare wood floor. Is that all I am to you? A mere tool to be used once, and then thrown away? You took my childhood away, and by doing so, took away me. I look at the others, and they're so happy. They laugh and grin all the time. Why couldn't I be like that? Why did you make me the way that I am?
I slipped off the bed and walked across the graveyard of dead wood, polished and shined to hide its rotting. It went against nature, against life itself. Nothing is meant to be perfect, nothing is meant to last forever in mint condition.
"Are you sure that he's ready? He's just a boy after all. He's still in school," she had told her husband.
"The Dark Lord can't wait until he grows up. It's best to do these things when they're young. They won't have the burden of deciding if this is what they want to do. They can be told or they can be forced." I had always known you to be blunt.
My reflection stared back at me, gray unfeeling eyes staring back at me. "You know," I told my reflection, "We're not all that different. You and I. You show my physical appearances with no insight to what's on the inside. You're secretive, elusive, deadly." I took the mirror off the wall, and smashed it on the ground. "And you lie," I told it.
The pieces of broken glass showed my reflection, scattered and in complete disarray. I could practically hear them mocking me. I stepped over the glass, thousands of tiny pieces digging into my foot. A trail of blood led to my wardrobe were I slipped on my cloak. The black one that had been trimmed with silver. Father had the Dark Mark specially inscribed on it. He thought that I would look especially evil in it, and would make a good impression to the Dark Lord. Personally, I thought I looked like an idiot. It doesn't make a difference though.
Tonight would be one that the Dark Lord would remember, and if not him, certainly one that my father would remember. I knelt down in front of the shattered mirror and took up a piece. My pale pointy face stared back at me.
You know, I just wanted to be shown some kind of love. I didn't want to be the cold heartless monster you made me to be. I've seen how they look at me, with fear, and with revulsion. It needs to end and it needs to end now. I won't be told what to do anymore. I'm not your pawn in your game of chess. I want out, and I want it now. I need to be free.
"You've mocked me for far to long," I told the glass. "No more." I held out my arm and slowly dragged the sharp piece over my veins. Blood poured from me and I smiled. I heard my fathers footsteps echoing down the hall, and him banging on the door, screaming to get my ass out there. Go ahead father. Bang, scream, do anything that you want because it doesn't matter anymore. I've won.