So, you think you know me, don't you? You think you
know my every move, my every thought, my every action, but guess what? You
don't.
Everyone
thinks that me 'The boy who lived' is some sort of symbol. A symbol of purity,
innocence, and all good. Nothing bad can be associated with me. I'm everyone's
savior, their philanthropist, the hero of all.
Can't
call those names anymore, can you? You know why? Because I have this, a trophy
of what I really stand for. With this, everyone can finally figure out who is the
man the mask is, but you never would have guessed there was a mask in the first
place, would you?
Karma
caused it. Hah, you must be thinking, how could this be a result of karma?
Karma is supposed to do good when one does the same. Well, where was it when I
rid the world of Lord Voldemort? Killing my parents, and leaving me to the
muggles. Where was it when I did every single one of my good deeds? You must be
thinking the fame and fortune, right? No, what are they but a few material
possessions and a life sans privacy? But now I'm going to a place far beyond
the reach of karma.
He
knows I'm powerful, and that's the only reason he's accepting me. He knows I
will do his side good, and that I will stay loyal. The mark on my arm proves
it.
What
can I say? To any noble historian that wants to record my last piece of advice
to humanity before I leave that way of life forever, I only have this to say.
If
you can't beat them, join them.
A/N-A
result of excessive pride after my teacher told me that I'm a sophisticated
writer, and low blood sugar. I know it's confusing, and it's not very good, but
I'm starting to get into writing short stories To anyone who is completely lost
and doesn't understand the general drift to this story, e-mail me at savanna_Weasley@yahoo.com
Laterz,
Mystery Girl
