I tried to explain it to them before. When I first got here, I tried to explain, tried to tell someone, what really happened. But no one heard, no one would listen. They turned a deaf ear to everything I said, as if they'd heard it all so many times they'd blocked out the noises we were making. Blocked everything out.
So no one heard my story. I was never given a trial, never given a chance, so it shouldn't have bothered me that no one in the prison would listen to what I had to say. But it did, bother me I mean. It really did. Not one person in the world cared enough about me to give a damn. And if not me, then cared enough about the justice system in this country to care that all the minister wanted was a scapegoat. Someone to take the fall for them.
Because it was the governments fall, Dumbledore's fall. Knowing about the prophecy, knowing about the boys and Voldemort's plans for them, they still failed to protect them. Failed to protect the both of them. And yeah, I'll say it, failed to protect me. Perhaps even failed to protect the entire community, because old Voldie is still out there, as is that worm Peter.
And so it goes on, ever growing, ever escalating, until the only thing we know about is the fact that this country is in big trouble. That we're all in big trouble.
I was offered the chance to become a Death Eater, did you know that? No, I'll bet you didn't, though it does make me look bad, doesn't it? Yeah, I was offered a position.
I backhanded him. Hard. I also told him in no uncertain terms where he could shove his narrow minded bigotry as I ran as fast and as far as I possibly could. I don't know how the hell I managed to get away. Perhaps this whole scheme with Peter was planned from that moment on – if they couldn't get me, get the weakest person you could find and make sure that he gets the job done.
And he did, for the most part. My boy still lives on, because he is my boy, at least in part. And if I ever get out, proved innocent or otherwise, I will do my damnedest to help him get his job done. But I've no doubt that he can do it on his own. He is, after all, James' son.
And combine that with Lily, and he will not just succeed, he will succeed and dance on Voldemort's grave.
I just hope that if I do get out, he doesn't hate me as much as he should. Because if I were him I'd want to kill me, bury me, dig me up and kill me all over again. Perhaps when he finds out the truth – when everyone finds out the truth – then he'll forgive me.
Perhaps Remus will forgive me and stop pitying Peter.
And yeah, okay, perhaps the Dementors will have a picnic.