Chapter 48: The End

I had nothing left, absolutely nothing. No one. I was alone in the world. No one cared if I were dead or alive. I was miserable. I resigned from my teaching position, which Dumbledore accepted with understanding. After several days, I sold the flat and moved back to Wales. I built a sort of shack in the woods, where I wouldn't be a disturbance to anyone, and that's where I lived. That's my home. For twelve miserable years that's been my home!

At first I found it difficult to face a new day, knowing all that had happened. I was alive, but I wasn't really living at all. Everything played horribly through my mind. Sirius shouting at me in the courtroom remained a fresh vision in my mind, along with Addi's screams of his innocence. Both made me angry enough to shout and throw things, which I did often.

Then, I'd always remember James and Lily's funeral. Crowds of people dressed in black attended; everyone from the Hogwarts staff, to the Dursleys. Little Harry was there, with his Aunt Petunia. Once during the service, he escape from his aunt's arms and ran to me crying, "Mooy! Mooy!" I held the tiny child close to me. He was all that was left of all my friends. The only thing I had to remember them by.

"Mooy, when mumum and dada come back?" He asked me curiously. I burst into tears. I couldn't bare to tell him the truth, that he'd never see them again; that his uncle Pafoo had killed them. So I said nothing. Soon Petunia took him away from me, as I sobbed. I was offered comfort from the teachers, but nothing could help. I was a lost, miserable soul, doing nothing more than waiting to die.

The twelve years were long, monotonous, and torturous. I lived for the past. I'd talk to James and Lily as though they were still there, at times I believe I thought they were. I'd always recall memories that would make me sob and sob for days. Not a minute passed that I didn't think about what Sirius had done. I didn't interact with people. I never talked to anyone. I hadn't seen Addi or Mari since the day Addi left. Yes, I was not one to be around people anymore. I didn't need them. I didn't need friends to betray me again. I'd learned my lesson, and my lesson was that true friendship and trust were dangerous, to truely be safe, you must trust no one, love no one, and care only about yourself. That's exactly what I did.

I wonder if Sirius can still remember what he did. Probably not. He's long been insane; as good as dead. He probably has no idea! He probably doesn't remember James or Lily or Peter, or Mari, or Addi or me. He probably doesn' know how miserable he's made all of us. He thinks he's suffering in that prison cell, but the innocent victims of his crimes sufffered just as much, or more.

I'd come to the horrible realization that I was back to where I started. I've gotten no farther than that terrified little six-year-old boy who got bitten on that Halloween night so many years ago. I have no friends, no one. The only difference between then and now, is that now I've experienced true friendship, and true love. They say you never know what you had until it's gone. That's so true.

My whole life is a failure. But it wasn't meant to be that way. Now everything has come to an end. It's all over now; I've got nothing left to live for, nothing to look forward to. My life was cut short at the age of twenty. I'd seen so much throughout my days, that I'd lived a lot of life, and it's hard to be without something you're so used to. But after twelve miserable years, you get used to the loneliness, and the heartache, and the bitterness you feel for the traitor that caused it all. Sometimes I wonder if Sirius is still alive and hope he's not. I hate the night when the stars shine. One of them shines all too bright, a constant reminder of the reason I'm here now.

So, I guess that brings you to the conclusion of my story. Here I am, Thirty two years old, sitting in a shack in the woods doing nothing more than waiting to die. All because I've been branded for life by a scar. A horribly ugly scar that will remain with me until the day I die. Not the scar on my upper right arm, for that one has become easy to live with. No, it is a scar deep within that haunts me, that tortures me, a scar to the heart, a scar with a pain so sharp it keeps me awake and night and brings me to tears everyday, a scar that doesn't heal with time, a scar that tells me with a sharp stab when I wake up in the morning that I am alone, a scar of betrayal, a scar not visible to the eye, but only to the soul.