That's how it all finishes.

I have never thought it will be like that. I hoped Voldemort will be defeated, of course. I believed he will be with all my might. But later it came, less hopeful I was. The real war hasn't even started, and already Cedric was gone. Than Sirius. Than, during the sixth year there was this attack on Hogsmead and Ron and many others died. I was losing my aim. I couldn't see it. Why all people I cared for, all I loved had to leave me? I know it may sound egoistic. It probably is. But I don't want to be altruistic any more. I fulfilled what I was expected to do. I helped to save the world. And now what?

I am not really alone. There is Hermione. She deeply cares for me. She is my best friend. We love each other in a way. She was the reason for me to invest my energy in this war. Well, not only she. I just mean that I don't care about the world. I care for people I love.

But now I just feel tired. It's bad with me. I just don't want to do anything. I must chew what I have bitten. I am sure help from friends would help me. But not now. I just can't open. Not yet.

I have a problem. A serious one.

I am on a corridor in Azkaban, waiting for other people that will be present on the hearing. Or however we call it. This comedy of justice. I am very likely to wait for much longer, I came here earlier than it was necessary.

You know, I did hate him. Not just for tormenting me and my friends. Not for his responsibility in Sirius' death – now I see it clearly.

I hated  him– well, honestly I still do - because my father and my godfather hurt him.

It may sound stupid, but think of it. His presence was reminding me about the fact they were not angels. Not in a bit. They were teenagers, and not the most pleasant ones.

I hate to admit it. I hated him for being a victim. I would be able to forgive him, had he hurt my father. I really would. I couldn't forgive him the fact that it was my father who needed forgiveness.

Do you see the irony? Once I couldn't understand Dumbledore's statement that Snape hated my father for saving his life – and this situation was very similar. Is, indeed. I still am not sure what to think of it all. That's why I am here.

I wasn't even asked to come. I am The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Conquer-Voldemort (it would sound even funnier, if we change Voldemort into You-Know-Who, or, even better, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named) I can do what I want now. Some of them are afraid of me – other understand I have too much to cope with now.

Anyway, I am here.

I just had to. I would never forgive myself if I cowered. At least I hope I wouldn't.

Hatred is the problem. Do you know that to cast Cruciatus you need to feel hatred toward the person you wish to torture? But not just hatred because the person did something, you must hate this person with all your heart and will, not for the sake of vengeance, just for the sake of hatred. Inflicting pain must be what you want. That's why I couldn't cast it properly on Bellatrix Lestrange – it was Sirius I was thinking of, not her. You can cast the killing curse, or imperio, or crucio. It may even work. But to give it full force you must be Evil. That's why they are unforgivable.

But am I really a good person? Am I? When I was fighting with Voldemort he tried to penetrate my mind. I don't know what he saw. But I have my suspicions. Because he smiled. These thin, white lips curled into a satisfied smile.

And than he said:

'I won. You can conquer this body or soul, but my sake… It's already in you.'

And than I killed him. I didn't use the killing curse. Maybe I could, but I knew it would allow him his 'come back'.

Because it would mean using the force of hatred. That's not the right way to save the world.

Instead I used love I had. I wanted him dead for my friends to live. Not for the sake of punishment for my parents death or something like that. For sake of these, who live. Dead people are not a reason for killing.

I don't know if it was a spell, a curse, whatever. I didn't say a word. I just wanted.

And it was finished.

It's three weeks since it finished. And now it's the right time to confront my problem.

Do I want to allow Voldemort to win? Or am I determined to fight against the evil that is hidden in my own soul?

Sometimes I comforted myself with thought that I did my share. Fulfilled my part. Won with the devil and as the one who did it I cannot be bad.

But that is just a wish and dream.

So later I started to think my life through. To find what Voldemort saw to make him so happy.

I never hated the Dursleys. I don't want them dead, I don't want them suffer. All I want is to stay away from them.

I was seeking for the hatred that I knew that was inside. Well, honestly I knew in an instant what Voldemort meant, but I tried to find something else.

I couldn't.

Snape.

That's strange. I know why I hate him. I know why it's not fair. I know that I misjudge him. I know and understand.

And still, although it's so unreasonable, I do.

So that's why I am here now. To fight my Final Battle. With myself. Because I know he didn't do what he is being accused of. Because I know that if he will be found guilty I will feel pleasure. Damned, evil pleasure.

And I know that if I feel this pleasure once I am lost.

If I will find enough power, I will kill myself before I manage to become a monster. If I don't – I will become a new, much worse Dark Lord. You think I am exaggerating?

That's because you haven't seen that smile.

I don't want to have this dilemma – to kill myself or half of this world. So I must defeat myself now.

Am I pathetic? Perhaps I am. I do hate pathetic side of my life. The Boy Who Lived. Poor orphan. Destined to save the world. Damn it. And now the last part of my story. I would call it Harry Potter and His Hatred Toward Greasy Git. But I am sure that it wouldn't sound pathetic enough. What about Harry Potter and the Shadow of Darkness in His Soul?

I am laughing now, you know. My laugh is just that full of amusement, as Voldemort's. I would do a great new Evil One.

But I don't want. I am not destined to anything anymore. I will take my life in my own hands. And I will win. Damn it. I will.

Some people arrive. Only fifteen minutes till the beginning. I made my decision. I will face my hatred and I will kill it.

I see Remus Lupin. His situation is in many ways worse than mine. All his friends are gone. I have Hermione, Luna, Zachary. He now lives with Weasleys. At least they care for him.

I wave my hand and he nearly smiles. I nearly smile, too.

'Ready for the parody?' I ask.

'I am. Why are you here? You weren't asked, were you?'

'No, but who denies The Boy Who Lived whatever he wants?'

'Nobody'  he answers 'But it's not the answer for my question.'

'I don't want to elaborate' I say. 'Not now.'

'Sure'

And together we enter the courtroom.