My Only Wish
Here's what the world knows: Three years ago, a short fortnight after the downfall of Lord Voldemort, while celebrations were still going on, a sixteen-year-old Harry Potter was murdered in cold blood by his jealous best friend, Ronald Weasley, leading a depressed beyond words Ginny Weasley down a suicidal path.
Here's what I know; here's the truth: Ronald Weasley is perhaps the most innocent man in the world. Three years ago, a short fortnight after the downfall of Lord Voldemort, while celebrations were still going on, a sixteen-year-old Harry Potter commited a tragic suicide & led a depressed beyond words Ginny Weasley down the same path.
If I ever said a word of that to the public they would put me in the nuthouse. But it's the truth. And it's not just a "think," it's a "know." I was there. I watched the great Harry Potter kill himself with a knife to the throat. I begged him not to do it. I watched him despratly want to live for thirty seconds. Thirty seconds in which, with his hands drenched in his own blood, he choked out his last words.
"Tell G-Ginny I've always loved her. T-Tell Ron I'm sorry. I-I love you, Herm."
Thirty seconds in which I felt myself loose control for the first time. Because that was when it really hit me that by this selfish act I could never be angry with him for, Harry had taken away the last of anyone & anything I ever really cared about.
"The Boy Who Lived" was never the right name for Harry. It should have been "The Man Who Never Had a Chance."
I kissed Harry on the lips, something that I would never dream of doing under normal circumstances, then fled to fulfill his final wishes.
I told Ginny that Harry loved her, only hours before my best female friend took her own life. I told Ron that Harry was sorry. I left him only seconds before he died at the hands of my own government. I wanted more than anything in the world to tell Ron that I loved him, but I couldn't do it.
Ron, my only love, is dead now. The night Harry slit his own throat, he sealed his best friend's fate. And mine. When I was younger, fifteen & younger, I dreamed of great things. A mansion with a yard full of little Rons & Hermiones was only one of my dreams. Now Ron is dead, killed by the wizarding government. Now, I'm destined to forever be a woman who's only wish is to be a widow.
