Dear....
(Who should I send this to? Who'd care to read it? )
Dear World,
(No.)
Dear Friend,
(No.)
Dear Life,
(That's better.)
I have nothing left.
Ten years have come and gone since the destruction of Hogwarts, crushed by
the Dark Lord, killing all within just to prove a point.
Fifteen years since I graduated.
Many times had I returned to visit the place I called home for so long, but
no more.
Five years since Voldemort's fall. Five years since all wizards and witches
got their freedom back.
But there weren't that many of us left. There aren't many of us left. The
bones of the dead litter the streets of the wizarding world, as I, one of
the few survivors, sit here alone, writing. Reflecting, on what had to be
done and what was done.
I was at university before all this started again. I was studying
Transfiguration and Potions. But the mentors I used to look up to have
faded into the past, a blur, just another memory.
It amazes me how much damage memories can do. Voldemort's second returned
all those years ago, broken hearts, guilt, life and death.
The ones I loved are dead, and their lives and deaths stay within my
memories forever.
(What was that saying?)
The sins of the father lay heavy n the soul of the son. Well here I sit,
next to the grave of my father, knowing that he died at my hands, but that
I did what I had to do.
(What's the rest of that saying?)
The sins of the self lay heavy upon my own soul.
But my soul is gone. My world is gone.
My life is gone.
My life is gone.