For some reason, I actually felt like adding an addition and an ending to this horrible thing. Character finally has sort of a name... vagueness in general is on purpose and hopefully is forgiven.

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Shreds of blue and bronze decorated the young woman beneath the black. The Mark was clear and visible on her forearm and eyes of brazing blue flickered up almost numbly to stare at those around her. An almost twisted smirk slipped into place, but she refrained.

She had just told the greatest story of all time. Even though she would go to Azkaban and even though her fate was now officially sealed, she had done it.

She still craved so much more though. There was always more to the story. Until the legend of the Boy Who Lived died, the story would always be there.

Even though she sat crumpled in the circle; perhaps the only Death Eater to not flee and to succumb to her defeat. The scent of blood and iron and death filled the air. It was thick and so many more adjectives fluttered through her mind – all better than the last.

"There is no point in running." She said simply, remaining still as she glanced from one grimy face to the next and she knew, to them, she was unrecognisable.

A nameless one. It hardly mattered, really. She would still be remembered as the one who held the key to the greatest story of all time. Even though she knew it would never end. Even though her thirst to end it would never be quenched.

The disgust with them was incredible. People who didn't know her. Couldn't understand. Yet, they were all curious. She knew half of them, perhaps. She knew many of the names even though they did not know hers. They should have known hers, really, but perhaps she was so far gone that even though they knew her name, they could not possibly recognise her as the one who had once shared that name.

She couldn't recognise herself, really. Perhaps that was for the best.

Her wand lay some distance from her, snapped in half by the stampeding feet of the previous Battle of Hogwarts. She could go nowhere, really and the only sane part of her mind could see that.

Death would come and it would end. Her story. Perhaps, in the end, that was for the best.

She was not afraid. How could she be? But she did not like the idea of leaving Harry Potter's story unfinished. She despised it. The thought made her skin crawl and she all, but writhed at the thought.

"Many have died because of my actions. My needs. My greed. I recognise that, but over all, I realise that I cannot take such actions back. Nor would I want to."

There was a flutter in the crowd and as her distant eyes flickered over them, a twisted grin fell into place.

So many wands and so much want to destroy her. Why would they not do it? Why would they refrain?

It had long since crossed her mind that she was of dirty blood. That this magical ability had corrupted her and destroyed the human part of her. That, even though she had once been a smiling youth, it was all over now because of magic and because of what it had allowed her to do.

"I am a muggleborn." She said, voice bland, but somehow able to capture the attention of all who surrounded her.

"Not all are like me and not all will become as I have. Gluttonous for knowledge. Ah..." She was interrupted, justly so, by a wand pressed up against her throat.

She glanced over and refrained from smirking as she saw the face.

"Because of you, everyone is dead."

"I only told a story, Harry Potter." The woman replied simply.

"No one had to believe it. And I hardly believe that everyone is dead. Many, perhaps..."

Her eyes flickered around his face and he seemed remotely disgusted and she knew, quite immediately, that he could not possibly understand.

No one could really, who was alive. The only people who could understand, she had killed to prove a point and get what she wanted.

"And I will only add to that toll. It's quite unfortunate...I still have quite an itch to tell the truth. The rest of the story is not out quite yet..."

"Your story ends today, Sproule."

She jerked faintly, eyes flickering in genuine surprise at the use of her surname as she peered up at the one she had watched so closely for so long.

And then, she smiled.

"Indeed it does, Harry Potter...and you will get your happily ever after, I assume? Not that I will ever know. Your story was not one I was meant to see the end of."

But she still wanted to know. Desperately. However, she knew when she was defeated and realistically, she had been defeated the day she had learned of the Boy Who Lived.

"Ah...Rowena Ravenclaw would not be very proud of me at all...such a disappointment..."