Ironic Justice
I died.
Its as simple as that. I could go on about how I survived through sixteen years of constant war and death threats, just to die at the hands of my 'best' friend. But I won't. I could whine about how the love of my life bled out in my arms before the cold steel of that bastard's knife slid into my heart. But I won't.
I will, however, think of her. Hermione. My real best friend. My girlfriend. My lover. My fiancée. The future mother of our children. My last image. She was with me all throughout school. Supporting me. Nagging me to get my homework done, heh. Standing strong and proud at my side through it all. If not for her, I never would have survived as long as I had.
It wasn't until the summer after my disastrous fifth year that I realized her true importance in my life. Cliché? Maybe, but I knew that I loved her. And I told her that the next time I saw her. No preamble. No secretive 'I'll see if she could feel the same way about me before I tell her' bull. No, just a straight confession. That's not to say I wasn't nervous, however. Bloody hell, I almost shit my pants waiting for her reply. When she returned my feelings, I felt as though I could accomplish anything.
That was a wonderful year, even if that piece of shite was angry at us for getting together. It didn't matter. We were in love, and that was that. The second night at school, we were sharing a bed provided by the RoR. The third week, she was wearing my mother's old engagement ring.
Then it all went to shite. The dark lord attacked Hogsmeade one Saturday. We fought off death eaters for a good hours before Voldemort himself appeared. During our duel, I heard her cry out.
There she was. Lying in the street, her blood pouring out of her slit throat. Over her stood that son of a bitch, his knife coated ruby-red in from her flesh. I wasn't even close to caring about anything else as I ran to her and pulled her body into my arms.
The last thing I heard was that sadistic laughter before the traitor stabbed me.
You'd think it'd be over then, right? Not for me. I was heading into the light. I could see her standing at those golden gates, her arms wide and her smile beautiful. Finally, I would know peace...
Until he appeared. Impossibly large, his green cloak billowing in the non existent wind. His glowing green eyes seemed to bore into my soul as he told me that my time had not yet come. He told me that I still had a mission to complete before I would have what I so wanted. I caught a final glimpse of my love before I was dragged, kicking and screaming, back to Earth.
So yeah...I died. But that wasn't enough for fate. No. I'm cursed to walk this earth until my mission is complete. Known by no one, yet everyone. Nowhere, yet everywhere. Able to see every single bloody sin committed on the planet at any given time. He's here as well, telling me of my purpose. Saying that it falls to me to cleanse God's earth of those that would misuse the gift of life. To punish those that would harm the innocent. I walk this earth delivering justice to the guilty. Doomed to wait until I earn the right to see her again.
--oo00IJ00oo--
Ronald Wealsey was living the good life under the dark lord's reign. Sure, he could do with a bit less of the torture. And the mark itched like a sunnuva bitch. But, all in all, life was good. His betrayal and murder of Harry Potter and Hermione Granger had cemented his place among the ranks. As the dark lord conquered England, he was able to enjoy more and more of the perks.
Sure, he felt bad that Hermione had had to die, but it was her fault for siding with Potter. He'd given the little know-it-all a chance to come to him, but she'd made her choice.
"Ronald Billius Weasley." The voice boomed from seemingly everywhere. Then, building from a pillar of smoke and fire, a man appeared before him. Clad in an emerald green cloak, the man radiated an other worldly power. Upon closer inspection, Ron was able to recognize the gray face shrouded in the shadow of the cloak's hood.
"H-harry?"
"Ronald Weasley. You have taken the lives of the innocent. You have shed their blood without provocation. You have betrayed those who loved you. Face the punishment.
Ron's scream of terror at the sight of a three-foot long blade appearing from nowhere turned to cries of agony as it pierced his flesh.
--oo00IJ00oo--
This is the third 'punishment' I've delivered. The spirit has a very, sick sense of irony that he displays on these people. The knife slowly slices form Ron's groin through the top of his head. Then, it begins to dice him. By all rights, he should have been dead before the chopping really began n earnest. For what he did to me...to us...I keep him alive he's nothing but pieces left.
The spirit tells me that this one is done. There are more who must pay price. This is my task. My mission.
I...am the Specter.