You have always been bewildered by the world. You try to understand it all, but you have the feeling that something is going straight over your head.
As you get older you care less what they think. But you keep trying.
The day the Dark Lord died, you could see they were so happy. You wanted to share the revelry, to be happy with them. You cast a spell to let them know, you will fit in. You should have known better. Even in the Wizarding World, you are an outcast.
And that night, there were shooting stars over Kent.
