Dearest Tom,
My next letter's going to be a bit of a "doozie" and I'm not sure what I'm going to say in it, so you get to be my tool of procrastination—how does that feel? I'm smirking right now, though you can't tell. By the way, did you know that you're dead? My darling Harry won, defeated you. We won. It's strange how hard it is to remember that it wasn't all Harry… We defeated you. I'm sticking my tongue out now.
You killed many people. Caused many deaths. Brought tragedy and hatred and grief and mistrust to the world. I loathe the ground that you walked upon. I loathe the darkness that you bred. I loathe the emptiness that you left behind.
But you're nothing now. Just ashes and dust, long-consumed by the insects of the earth. Your twisted spirit must writhe in agony at the thought. And it all just amuses me. I don't feel a rush of triumph or of vengeance. Just a satisfied smirk lies on my face.
Sincerely,
Hermione Granger