The Night Sky

The Night Sky

My life was like the night sky. It had its nice, pretty moments when it seemed good to be me, even great to be me and then the rest of the time, it was dark. The beautiful moments of my life would be the sparkling, silver stars; the rest of the darkness would be the rest of my life, the darkness that drowned me everyday. My life was dark.

Darker than the night sky.

Sometimes the darkness of it engulfed me. Swallowed me whole.

At those times I could never spot the beautiful times I've had, the stars of brightness, the few good points in scattered throughout my existence. I've had so little of them.

I hate the darkness. Some say it's beautiful, but they don't live in the night sky.

They don't know what it's like. They will never know what's it's like, to be me. They could never know.

It's so easy for them. They get to make their own decisions, their own choices.

But I can't. Me, the hero of the wizarding world, can't make my own decisions.

I wish I was someone else most of my life, anybody else.

I wish for a lot of things.

I wish I could choose what's right for me, instead of choosing what's right for the whole world.

At times like this, I sympathize with my enemy.

Both of our paths inevitably lead to the same point, always the same point.

Tomorrow is the final battle. The last showdown, what could be the end of everything, or the beginning of everything.

Half of the time, I wonder if I can just let him end it all. What do I have to live for anyway?

Ron, Hermione, the rest of the world that's depending on you, answers one part of my head.

But once it's all over, they can be happy again. And I can never be happy. Even with him defeated. I'm not allowed to be truly happy.

My life was like a delicate champagne glass. Some saw it beautiful and some saw it ugly. It would have been useful though.

One Halloween night, long ago, that glass broke.

And how can I pick up the shards and piece them together again?

I would still hurt myself, no matter what.

And pieces would be missing.

But, if I let him win, he would sweep up the shards, and simply dispose of them, and then maybe I could finally rest in peace.

I don't know what lies beyond this life.

Would it make me happy? A change?

I don't know. I really don't.

I think I should be entitled to decide whether I choose to die or not, without the whole world hanging in the balance.

Shouldn't I?

Why, must I, one person, decide the fate of the world?

I don't know. I really don't. And I will probably never know.

And so, on the eve of the final battle, I will lay here, on the soft, grassy ground and watch the night sky.

It will never change.