And now everyone I love is gone. Harry, Draco, Mum, Dad, Fred, George, Ron, Bill, Charlie, Hermione, Professor Dumbledore, Tonks, Professor Lupin . . . I am the only one left of everyone I know.
Percy turned out to be a Death Eater. He tried to go back to the good side, and did not live to tell the tale.
Voldemort and his followers killed everyone else. I read about it in the Daily Prophet. Snape is still missing.
I live in hiding now. I don't know where I am, or who brought me hear. One thing, however, is that sometimes, I think I hear a phoenix singing.
I live pretty well, actually. I am in a cave somewhere, and there is always food. I am fully isolated from the outside world, except for the owl that brings me the news.
There are many books in a large library here. Books of every kind on every subject. Hermione would have loved it.
One book is filled with family trees of the entire wizarding community. It turns out that both Harry and Draco were Polish, which is why I always think of Trzy Serca now. Our three hearts were all broken.
But this life of isolation has no point anymore. I want to end it, to meet the ones I love and be reunited with them. And so I have a knife beside me. My time here has run out, my life gone stale. But I am writing this as one last reminder of the final heart. Someday, I hope, somebody shall find my story. It's not a happy one, but it's all I've got.
Remember that you can truly love more than one person. It is impossible to choose when all that is involved . . .
Is Trzy Serca.