To Whomever Reads This
Whitefeather
Notes- Whew...this turned out to be a lot longer than expected. Took me nearly three hours. ENJOY OR DIE! :Clears throat: Ehem. ^^ Usual disclaimers apply. To Severitus and Farseeker, whose writings inspired me to write this. If you're reading this, guys, thanks!
~*~*~*~*~*~
To whomever reads this,
My name is Harry Potter- I pray that my name will be known for good and not for evil and the opposition against the reigning lord Voldemort.
I don't know who will read this, or by that time what will be thought of this whole ordeal. I am in one of the most heavily guarded cells in Azkaban- one that means that I shall never again see sunlight. The memories flood back to me from the dementors- memories that tell me I have little longer to live, ones that show me the memories that kill me slowly from the inside. Even as I write this, the dark mark on my arm burns like an ever-lasting fire cast into my skin, paining so much more from the memories than the actual scar burned onto my arm. Reminding me, constantly, that there is nothing to live for any longer- only the daily screams of people I once called allies. Death Eaters. Please understand. they were once the hell in my life, the ultimate fear. But times changed. People changed. Alliances changed. My life changed. I had to make a choice that I wasn't ready for. I was a child. I was young. I made the worst mistake in the history of the known world. I pray that you will read this, and you will understand why I did what I did. I had a choice- a huge one that altered my life forever. And I chose the wrong path- one with cold, harsh reality attached. Because I was afraid. I'll regretfully admit it now- I was young. I was afraid. I was stupid. Three years have passed since the dark lord was destroyed. Three years since the world became a 'better' place. Three years since I gave everything in my life up. During my fifth year, the year after the dark lord returned, he attacked Hogwarts. He attacked it to get me, to kill me, to destroy the only one that had a chance of destroying him.
I must tell this story. It's the only reason I'm still alive- no one knows the truth about what happened in those three years; only those dead and long departed from the world of the sane know and understand. I must let the truth be known. I must have you understand. I don't want pity; I don't deserve it. I just want someone, one person in this whole cruel world, to read this and know the truth. The events of that day became indented in my mind, like the dark mark on my arm inscribed into my arm forever- something that everyone has heard about, everyone claims to know- but no one knows the truth. I don't have much longer here on this world.
The story most widely believed is that on Christmas Day of my fifth year, I brought the dark lord into the Great Hall where he proceeded to kill Dumbledore and stupefy McGonagall- Snape somehow was left untouched. I returned with the dark lord, then became a Death Eater for my efforts. This story is so warped, so untrue- yet I did not tell them this in the court; it was as good as true, and the memories of that time were better to rot in Azkaban than told to the world. I simply pleaded guilty, and said that the story was true. There were no questions left, and I was placed in the highest-security cell in Azkaban for my efforts. Only I know the truth about those four years- the truth about why I turned, and why I made the choice that I did.
I'm only sane because my story is left untold. I beg you to listen now- consider it a dying man's last wish. It was Christmas day of seven years ago when the whole ordeal began.
I was the only student left in Hogwarts. Because of the dark lord's return, all of the student's parents insisted that they return home for the holidays so they could be closer to home and their family. Because of my 'wonderful' guardians, I was to stay with the professors that had nowhere to go- Professors Snape, McGonagall, and Dumbledore. We were the only ones left in the entire school, except the ghosts and the house- elves. But even they had been given the day off, and after a large amount of disagreement. They all ended up agreeing to do double work the next day to make up for it, and actually enjoyed lazing around for a while. I woke up early in the morning, with soft snow filtering through the high castle windows that someone had opened the day before to get some air. The breeze that filtered into the room was so fresh, so amazingly pure, something that rarely graced the air in the year after the dark lord's return. Somehow, amazingly, I had a dreamless sleep the last night- the one thing more rare than the pure air gracing Griffindor tower.
It took all my effort to stand up that morning, something perhaps giving me an omen of the day to come. Perhaps, had I looked deeper than Moody's magic eye and Professor Trelawney's mystical predictions, I'd have noticed that a dreamless night meant something. But blindly, I thought the day as a premature success, and all but skipped down to the Great Hall. Pushing the great golden doors in, I saw the three other 'leftovers' sitting in the center of the room. Dumbledore and McGonagall were lightly and gaily talking; while Snape sat there looking deep into the recesses of his goblet, praying that it held answers for him. As not to disturb them, I wandered the perimeter of the Great Hall, looking at the thousands of portraits that the walls held.
Ever since the return of the dark lord the year before, the Hall's perimeter had been filled with portraits of those killed by Voldemort. They were all muggle drawings to keep the memories alive without bringing too much sadness to those who had lost in the wars; in my opinion it added too much of a creepy sense to the hall with all of these still portraits of dead muggles and witches and wizards from different eras all placed together in the confinement of a room.
What happened next is something that the papers never got correct, which baffled even the best aurors. It was something that every child reads about in their history books, no doubt, and there are still many discussions about in pubs and nursing homes. There are millions of different stories- it was a known fact that the dark lord and the Death Eaters could not enter the Great Hall in their own likes. The truth is a simple one- like vampires, he could enter the confines of our school only by being invited- such a simple feat that even the best overlook it.
It all happened while I was staring at the portrait of Cedric- a sudden creaking of the golden doors opening then a quick green flash. By the time I'd turned around, McGonagall was being held back by a Death Eater, Snape was standing up, horrified, with his wand broken into two hovering in front of him, and Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts for countless years, one of the best friends I'd ever had, was slumped over, lifeless, onto the table in front of him. The dark lord was standing, his wand pointed toward the grand, and now dead, wizard with great glee in his face. He finally spoke, his eyes still on the dead body before him, to me. He told me that I had a choice, that I could either go with him, or they would remain here until the Hogwarts Express came in and he would exterminate the student population slowly. I chose the only choice I had- I joined him. His cold, clammy hand took mine, and he apperated with me and each of the Death Eaters. The last thing I saw was my head of house slumped over, stupefied, and Snape bent over the body of the departed headmaster. It was the vision that burned into my head for years and years.
All the rest that day happened so quickly- I remember so little. The only thing that I remember is that I found myself in an elaborately decorated room the next morn with the bitter taste of veritaserum on my tongue. Fearing what I told the dark lord, I quickly stood and tried to open the door. To my uttermost surprise, it opened. It hadn't been locked. It only took a second for me to begin running, following the pain in my scar, to him. Whatever I told him, I would not have allowed him to use in against anyone. But what I found was something that I will never forget.
Standing in the corner of the huge room in god-knows where was Ginny. She was chained up to the wall, with tears running down her face. She didn't appear to be in any pain, but she was unconscious. She was so beautiful, with her hair spilling down her face and her body all stretched out. she was the woman I fell in love with when I first saw her. She was the life that I wanted to have. But there, as always, was a catch.
The dark lord stood leaning against the opposite wall in the dark. His face was hidden in the shadows, but you could feel that he was smiling. His absolute evil took over the room, and he asked me if that was what I wanted. I understood- that's what he gave me the veritaserum for- so I told him yes, Ginny was my love, and I needed her. He simply nodded, and said that as long as I remained here, I could have her. He was treating her like a possession, and without noticing I was as well. Ginny was awake the whole time, unknown to me, and was aware of the conversation. Aware of me calling her a thing and such like that. Ii was only when I turned and saw tears streaming down her face that I knew.
That night was the worst in my life- apparently, the entire wizarding community believed it to have been me that killed Dumbledore since our wands were so much alike. Like everyone else in the world, Ginny thought of me as guilty. She couldn't see past our love for one another to realize that I was innocent. Voldemort had set it up so perfectly- as though he got her as a gift for me for my alliance. As much as I tried to persuade her otherwise, she wouldn't listen. She just lay on the floor of 'my' room, crying until she had no more tears to cry. Finally, she fell into a troubled sleep and I laid back.
It was about three months later when I made the mistake of my life. In the meantime, house elves brought food and such to my room, and I'd wander daily. Ginny refused to eat; she nearly starved herself to death; then she wouldn't leave the confines of the room. Concerned about her more than she ever knew I finally went to the dark lord and told him of her ailments. He agreed to let her go, but only if I would help him catch an auror on his tail- someone I didn't know but had been having dreams of. He seemed to know this without error, and I agreed. So, three months after coming to this hell hole, Ginny left knowing that she was being sold out for dark favors. I never got to say goodbye. But somehow, I felt no pity. I guess the time there had hardened me. So, to save Ginny, I sold out the auror and actually went with the Death Eaters to get him. But something was so obviously wrong- from being locked up so long in the confines of wherever, I was actually enjoying the Death Eater's company, and enjoying the hunt. What happened next was something even more twisted than the story books tell, and more hell than the history books can explain. My heart broke that day, and I was 'born' into a new life.
The auror, an old woman named Arabella Figg, was working for the Order of the Phoenix- the group of aurors that fought Voldemort with their lives. One of the Death Eaters, Lucious Malfoy, killed her with a single curse- he was too 'tired' to use the Cruciatus on her. Later, I found it was because they knew of what would happen next. At the time, I never recognized her as the woman who had been my guardian, who had watched over me for seemingly ever- I just saw her as someone who opposed the man that was guarding me. Even then, I couldn't see the plain and simple truth- I was falling for the 'dark side'. As suddenly as the kill happened, a witch and a wizard stepped into the light. At first I didn't recognize them, then I finally did- it was Hermione and Ron.
They both recognized me immediately, then raised their wands to meet my face. Ron told me that I raped his sister, and that I was dead. My heart changed then- I loved Ginny, and apparently, she never felt the same way. And my two best friends, Ron and Hermione, were here ready to kill me. I was ready to accept it- I had nothing left to live for. Then the unexpected happened. One of the death eaters, who I never knew their identity, struck them down with a single curse. He told me, in a hard and rash voice, to finish them off. Whatever happened then was a mystery even to me- all I remember is looking down and seeing reality sticking me in the face-
-Hermione and Ron were dead. I'd killed them.
The rest is history- with that one sin committed, I threw myself to the darkness to forget. To forget about killing the best friends I'd ever had. To raping the only one I'd ever loved. Later, to killing the only guardians I'd ever had- the Dursleys, and even Sirus. I kept making excuses as to why I was doing it all, making scapegoats out of every person that came my way. I never opened my eyes once in those four years, never from being hurt by the Cruciatus curse or having the dark mark burned into me. Killing became nothing, and I was killing so many more than Voldemort ever dreamed of. In the end all prophesies came true- I killed my master out of hatred and the lust for power. I killed him with a muggle weapon, a gun, since he hated muggles so.
It took less than a month after Voldemort's death for me to realize what I'd done, and to turn myself in. All the pain in my life was relived when I went to court that day- I had to face those left from my killings. They listed off all those I'd killed with my bare magic- Remus Lupin, Sirus Black, Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, Minerva McGonagall. the list went on and on. People I loved. I wanted to die- I wanted them to just give me the death sentence, or even the dementor's kiss. But since I turned myself in, there was nothing they could give me over a lifetime in Azkaban. And after all, I had destroyed the dark lord and all of the death eaters. When the judge finally gave me my sentence, a lifetime in Azkaban as expected, I heard something from the back of the courtroom. It was her- it was Ginny. With a daughter. That was when my world turned upside down. I had a daughter. I now know that I have a daughter, Destiny Weasley, conceived before I was captured. Before it all. I had a daughter.
This is where it ends. Since that day, my life has been living hell- forced each day to remember all the memories I'd given myself charms to forget. As I've said before, I don't expect to live any longer. I just want something, anything, to let me die. So I can burn in hell.
Sincerely,
Harry James Potter
~*~*~*~*~*~
The night after a letter flew out of Azkaban to follow the winds, the famous man Harry Potter died. He apparently died of a broken heart, from all the memories plaguing him- memories of his friends lost and family torn. You'd expect this story to end with his daughter or former girlfriend finding and reading the letter, or something of the sort, changing and clearing his name forever. But that's not how this story ends. This story ends with the letter, following the fates of the winds, drifting into the small fire, which still remained at Hogwarts from Harry's destroying it years before, and being destroyed without anyone reading it. So his story went untold, for the remainder of time, space, and life altogether.
The true story of the boy who lived was now truly dead.
Notes- Whew...this turned out to be a lot longer than expected. Took me nearly three hours. ENJOY OR DIE! :Clears throat: Ehem. ^^ Usual disclaimers apply. To Severitus and Farseeker, whose writings inspired me to write this. If you're reading this, guys, thanks!
~*~*~*~*~*~
To whomever reads this,
My name is Harry Potter- I pray that my name will be known for good and not for evil and the opposition against the reigning lord Voldemort.
I don't know who will read this, or by that time what will be thought of this whole ordeal. I am in one of the most heavily guarded cells in Azkaban- one that means that I shall never again see sunlight. The memories flood back to me from the dementors- memories that tell me I have little longer to live, ones that show me the memories that kill me slowly from the inside. Even as I write this, the dark mark on my arm burns like an ever-lasting fire cast into my skin, paining so much more from the memories than the actual scar burned onto my arm. Reminding me, constantly, that there is nothing to live for any longer- only the daily screams of people I once called allies. Death Eaters. Please understand. they were once the hell in my life, the ultimate fear. But times changed. People changed. Alliances changed. My life changed. I had to make a choice that I wasn't ready for. I was a child. I was young. I made the worst mistake in the history of the known world. I pray that you will read this, and you will understand why I did what I did. I had a choice- a huge one that altered my life forever. And I chose the wrong path- one with cold, harsh reality attached. Because I was afraid. I'll regretfully admit it now- I was young. I was afraid. I was stupid. Three years have passed since the dark lord was destroyed. Three years since the world became a 'better' place. Three years since I gave everything in my life up. During my fifth year, the year after the dark lord returned, he attacked Hogwarts. He attacked it to get me, to kill me, to destroy the only one that had a chance of destroying him.
I must tell this story. It's the only reason I'm still alive- no one knows the truth about what happened in those three years; only those dead and long departed from the world of the sane know and understand. I must let the truth be known. I must have you understand. I don't want pity; I don't deserve it. I just want someone, one person in this whole cruel world, to read this and know the truth. The events of that day became indented in my mind, like the dark mark on my arm inscribed into my arm forever- something that everyone has heard about, everyone claims to know- but no one knows the truth. I don't have much longer here on this world.
The story most widely believed is that on Christmas Day of my fifth year, I brought the dark lord into the Great Hall where he proceeded to kill Dumbledore and stupefy McGonagall- Snape somehow was left untouched. I returned with the dark lord, then became a Death Eater for my efforts. This story is so warped, so untrue- yet I did not tell them this in the court; it was as good as true, and the memories of that time were better to rot in Azkaban than told to the world. I simply pleaded guilty, and said that the story was true. There were no questions left, and I was placed in the highest-security cell in Azkaban for my efforts. Only I know the truth about those four years- the truth about why I turned, and why I made the choice that I did.
I'm only sane because my story is left untold. I beg you to listen now- consider it a dying man's last wish. It was Christmas day of seven years ago when the whole ordeal began.
I was the only student left in Hogwarts. Because of the dark lord's return, all of the student's parents insisted that they return home for the holidays so they could be closer to home and their family. Because of my 'wonderful' guardians, I was to stay with the professors that had nowhere to go- Professors Snape, McGonagall, and Dumbledore. We were the only ones left in the entire school, except the ghosts and the house- elves. But even they had been given the day off, and after a large amount of disagreement. They all ended up agreeing to do double work the next day to make up for it, and actually enjoyed lazing around for a while. I woke up early in the morning, with soft snow filtering through the high castle windows that someone had opened the day before to get some air. The breeze that filtered into the room was so fresh, so amazingly pure, something that rarely graced the air in the year after the dark lord's return. Somehow, amazingly, I had a dreamless sleep the last night- the one thing more rare than the pure air gracing Griffindor tower.
It took all my effort to stand up that morning, something perhaps giving me an omen of the day to come. Perhaps, had I looked deeper than Moody's magic eye and Professor Trelawney's mystical predictions, I'd have noticed that a dreamless night meant something. But blindly, I thought the day as a premature success, and all but skipped down to the Great Hall. Pushing the great golden doors in, I saw the three other 'leftovers' sitting in the center of the room. Dumbledore and McGonagall were lightly and gaily talking; while Snape sat there looking deep into the recesses of his goblet, praying that it held answers for him. As not to disturb them, I wandered the perimeter of the Great Hall, looking at the thousands of portraits that the walls held.
Ever since the return of the dark lord the year before, the Hall's perimeter had been filled with portraits of those killed by Voldemort. They were all muggle drawings to keep the memories alive without bringing too much sadness to those who had lost in the wars; in my opinion it added too much of a creepy sense to the hall with all of these still portraits of dead muggles and witches and wizards from different eras all placed together in the confinement of a room.
What happened next is something that the papers never got correct, which baffled even the best aurors. It was something that every child reads about in their history books, no doubt, and there are still many discussions about in pubs and nursing homes. There are millions of different stories- it was a known fact that the dark lord and the Death Eaters could not enter the Great Hall in their own likes. The truth is a simple one- like vampires, he could enter the confines of our school only by being invited- such a simple feat that even the best overlook it.
It all happened while I was staring at the portrait of Cedric- a sudden creaking of the golden doors opening then a quick green flash. By the time I'd turned around, McGonagall was being held back by a Death Eater, Snape was standing up, horrified, with his wand broken into two hovering in front of him, and Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts for countless years, one of the best friends I'd ever had, was slumped over, lifeless, onto the table in front of him. The dark lord was standing, his wand pointed toward the grand, and now dead, wizard with great glee in his face. He finally spoke, his eyes still on the dead body before him, to me. He told me that I had a choice, that I could either go with him, or they would remain here until the Hogwarts Express came in and he would exterminate the student population slowly. I chose the only choice I had- I joined him. His cold, clammy hand took mine, and he apperated with me and each of the Death Eaters. The last thing I saw was my head of house slumped over, stupefied, and Snape bent over the body of the departed headmaster. It was the vision that burned into my head for years and years.
All the rest that day happened so quickly- I remember so little. The only thing that I remember is that I found myself in an elaborately decorated room the next morn with the bitter taste of veritaserum on my tongue. Fearing what I told the dark lord, I quickly stood and tried to open the door. To my uttermost surprise, it opened. It hadn't been locked. It only took a second for me to begin running, following the pain in my scar, to him. Whatever I told him, I would not have allowed him to use in against anyone. But what I found was something that I will never forget.
Standing in the corner of the huge room in god-knows where was Ginny. She was chained up to the wall, with tears running down her face. She didn't appear to be in any pain, but she was unconscious. She was so beautiful, with her hair spilling down her face and her body all stretched out. she was the woman I fell in love with when I first saw her. She was the life that I wanted to have. But there, as always, was a catch.
The dark lord stood leaning against the opposite wall in the dark. His face was hidden in the shadows, but you could feel that he was smiling. His absolute evil took over the room, and he asked me if that was what I wanted. I understood- that's what he gave me the veritaserum for- so I told him yes, Ginny was my love, and I needed her. He simply nodded, and said that as long as I remained here, I could have her. He was treating her like a possession, and without noticing I was as well. Ginny was awake the whole time, unknown to me, and was aware of the conversation. Aware of me calling her a thing and such like that. Ii was only when I turned and saw tears streaming down her face that I knew.
That night was the worst in my life- apparently, the entire wizarding community believed it to have been me that killed Dumbledore since our wands were so much alike. Like everyone else in the world, Ginny thought of me as guilty. She couldn't see past our love for one another to realize that I was innocent. Voldemort had set it up so perfectly- as though he got her as a gift for me for my alliance. As much as I tried to persuade her otherwise, she wouldn't listen. She just lay on the floor of 'my' room, crying until she had no more tears to cry. Finally, she fell into a troubled sleep and I laid back.
It was about three months later when I made the mistake of my life. In the meantime, house elves brought food and such to my room, and I'd wander daily. Ginny refused to eat; she nearly starved herself to death; then she wouldn't leave the confines of the room. Concerned about her more than she ever knew I finally went to the dark lord and told him of her ailments. He agreed to let her go, but only if I would help him catch an auror on his tail- someone I didn't know but had been having dreams of. He seemed to know this without error, and I agreed. So, three months after coming to this hell hole, Ginny left knowing that she was being sold out for dark favors. I never got to say goodbye. But somehow, I felt no pity. I guess the time there had hardened me. So, to save Ginny, I sold out the auror and actually went with the Death Eaters to get him. But something was so obviously wrong- from being locked up so long in the confines of wherever, I was actually enjoying the Death Eater's company, and enjoying the hunt. What happened next was something even more twisted than the story books tell, and more hell than the history books can explain. My heart broke that day, and I was 'born' into a new life.
The auror, an old woman named Arabella Figg, was working for the Order of the Phoenix- the group of aurors that fought Voldemort with their lives. One of the Death Eaters, Lucious Malfoy, killed her with a single curse- he was too 'tired' to use the Cruciatus on her. Later, I found it was because they knew of what would happen next. At the time, I never recognized her as the woman who had been my guardian, who had watched over me for seemingly ever- I just saw her as someone who opposed the man that was guarding me. Even then, I couldn't see the plain and simple truth- I was falling for the 'dark side'. As suddenly as the kill happened, a witch and a wizard stepped into the light. At first I didn't recognize them, then I finally did- it was Hermione and Ron.
They both recognized me immediately, then raised their wands to meet my face. Ron told me that I raped his sister, and that I was dead. My heart changed then- I loved Ginny, and apparently, she never felt the same way. And my two best friends, Ron and Hermione, were here ready to kill me. I was ready to accept it- I had nothing left to live for. Then the unexpected happened. One of the death eaters, who I never knew their identity, struck them down with a single curse. He told me, in a hard and rash voice, to finish them off. Whatever happened then was a mystery even to me- all I remember is looking down and seeing reality sticking me in the face-
-Hermione and Ron were dead. I'd killed them.
The rest is history- with that one sin committed, I threw myself to the darkness to forget. To forget about killing the best friends I'd ever had. To raping the only one I'd ever loved. Later, to killing the only guardians I'd ever had- the Dursleys, and even Sirus. I kept making excuses as to why I was doing it all, making scapegoats out of every person that came my way. I never opened my eyes once in those four years, never from being hurt by the Cruciatus curse or having the dark mark burned into me. Killing became nothing, and I was killing so many more than Voldemort ever dreamed of. In the end all prophesies came true- I killed my master out of hatred and the lust for power. I killed him with a muggle weapon, a gun, since he hated muggles so.
It took less than a month after Voldemort's death for me to realize what I'd done, and to turn myself in. All the pain in my life was relived when I went to court that day- I had to face those left from my killings. They listed off all those I'd killed with my bare magic- Remus Lupin, Sirus Black, Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, Minerva McGonagall. the list went on and on. People I loved. I wanted to die- I wanted them to just give me the death sentence, or even the dementor's kiss. But since I turned myself in, there was nothing they could give me over a lifetime in Azkaban. And after all, I had destroyed the dark lord and all of the death eaters. When the judge finally gave me my sentence, a lifetime in Azkaban as expected, I heard something from the back of the courtroom. It was her- it was Ginny. With a daughter. That was when my world turned upside down. I had a daughter. I now know that I have a daughter, Destiny Weasley, conceived before I was captured. Before it all. I had a daughter.
This is where it ends. Since that day, my life has been living hell- forced each day to remember all the memories I'd given myself charms to forget. As I've said before, I don't expect to live any longer. I just want something, anything, to let me die. So I can burn in hell.
Sincerely,
Harry James Potter
~*~*~*~*~*~
The night after a letter flew out of Azkaban to follow the winds, the famous man Harry Potter died. He apparently died of a broken heart, from all the memories plaguing him- memories of his friends lost and family torn. You'd expect this story to end with his daughter or former girlfriend finding and reading the letter, or something of the sort, changing and clearing his name forever. But that's not how this story ends. This story ends with the letter, following the fates of the winds, drifting into the small fire, which still remained at Hogwarts from Harry's destroying it years before, and being destroyed without anyone reading it. So his story went untold, for the remainder of time, space, and life altogether.
The true story of the boy who lived was now truly dead.