Fate can be so very, very cruel. You don't know what it's like. To work, to fight with so much blood and tears, for this one thing. And it wasn't just anything. If I had succeeded, we wouldn't be living the way we are now. I had fought for literally my entire life. And now the fight is over. Because we have lost. I have lost.
This is no petty loss such as losing a game of wizard chess. This loss is everything. My world now lives in fear. They did before, but before, there was hope. We don't have even that now.
And I continue to blame myself for it. They had rested their fate, their future, on the shoulders on me. The Boy Who Lived. What happened was that I was too weak. So I guess you could say that weakness is my weakness.
I don't like to think about it. But how can I not? It's everywhere. They're like signs that mock me everyday, reminding me of my failure.
Our wands had clashed. Red versus green. Elder versus holly. The Dark Lord versus the Chosen One.
If only I had been stronger and more skilled, we would've won. His spell was stronger than mine, overcoming it. After that, all it took from him was one Disarming spell. And we were finished.
"How does it feel, Potter? You could say I "turned the tables" on you." He then used my own wand against me, "Imperio!"
And I bowed down to him. My lifelong enemy, the reason why I was an orphan, the reason why our world was falling apart.
"Surrender now! There is no hope left for you. All who do not shall be immediately slaughtered, along with their family. Even the Boy-Who-Lived has bowed down to me. Even he know it is hopeless," he had declared.
"He's under the Imperius Curse! That's the only reason why he's bowing down to you," someone had shouted. I had recognized that voice. Ron.
Immediately, Death Eaters swarmed and pushed their way through the crowd towards him. I saw them grab him by the shoulders and throw him at Voldemort's feet.
More Death Eaters surged towards the crowd to hold back Hermione, his family, and friends.
"RON!" George yelled.
"And who is this?" Voldemort looked Ron directly in the eye.
Ron stood as proudly as he could, "Ron Weasley. Blood traitor."
I heard Mrs. Weasley's choked sob.
"Well, Ron Weasley, if you are so proud to be a blood traitor, I'm sure you're more than glad to demonstrate what happens to those who defy me."
There was a moment of silence. And then he said it, as quiet as a whisper, but everyone had heard it.
His screams echoed across the courtyard. They were the screams of a man truly in pain. Agony. Hermione's cries of desperation mixed with them.
"NO! PLEASE! PLEASE! STOP! PLEASE, CAN'T YOU SEE? HE'S HAD ENOUGH! PLEASE! STOP!"
I had had enough, "STOP!"
It stopped. Everyone looked to me. I stood, the Imperious Curse lifted. It was over. No one else was gonna get hurt for me. No one else was going to die for me. I had to end it.
"There will be no more fighting. No more dying. No more torture or sacrifice. It has to end. It's over. He's won." And then I, willingly, bowed. After a brief moment of hesitation, so did everyone else. Never in my life had I felt so weak.
Voldemort had allowed us to live. I knew there was a reason behind it. But I never realized what it was.
I married Ginny and managed to be somewhat happy. We had three kids. I should've known it would never last. It was a mockery.
The year my youngest child was born, a new set of laws were introduced.
Going to Hogwarts was required. If your child was not sent to Hogwarts when they turned eleven, your entire family would be tortured into madness.
And don't try to run. They'll find you. They always do.
And then there were the Hogwarts Games. They would have them every year.
And only one can walk away from them alive.