Meandering

My actions are not my own. They never have been.

It's not like I'm under the Imperius or anything. That'd be far too easy. It'd give me something to blame.

I've acted on my own conscience. I did what I wanted to, and nobody could convince me to do anything else.

Sure, I'm not proud of myself. I never wanted to be a killer. No little kid wants to be a killer when they grow up.

But, a killer I remain.

I've never cast the Killing Curse on another person, no. But I've killed bugs. Don't they count?

Of course not. Insects don't matter.

In a way, we're all like insects. We've all got our own little lives that we lead; oblivious, for the most part, to the powers above us.

Until they smash us and we bleed to death in mere nanoseconds.

There's far too many bugs in this world.

Sure, you say that that doesn't mean they have to die. You say you're not a killer yourself.

But when a fly buzzes in front of your face, you wave it away. Sometimes you swat it to death and you couldn't care less.

It's how I feel.

Apathetic.

Cold.

Uncaring.

I could go on forever. I'm sure I've got time. They told me my stay here was indefinite.

Redemption?

That's beyond me. I was condemned ever since I was born. I expect my parents took one look at me and cringed.

It probably was because I was an ugly baby. Not on the outside, mind, but inside.

My soul was dirty even then. There's no denying it. I was supposed to do all these terrible things.

There I go again. Blaming something other than myself.

I really don't deserve to live. I've killed so many, yet I live on while they've perished.

For a killer, I'm pretty pathetic. I can't even kill the one person who deserves it the most: me.

So many others deserve another chance at life.

I reckon we only get one time around. That makes sense. If we knew we could go around more than once, we'd spend the first life frivolously.

I wouldn't, though. I'd spend it the right way, the way my victims did: righteously.

Of course, I'd have to become this killer eventually. At some point, my nature would have to come through in one of my lives.

None of us can deny who we are.

I tried to tell myself that at first it was okay. This was what I was supposed to do.

That didn't last for long. You have to have a heart to justify yourself.

I don't. I haven't; not for a long time.

If I do, it's blacker than the sins I've committed.

I had a heart when I was little, I suppose. But it's eroded away by now.

My heart was like a beach. The waves always lapped upon it, destroying it little by little. Larger storms did more damage.

I suppose part of the beach must still be there, then.

Of course, the next wave will destroy it.

I don't know why you're here.

You couldn't have come to try and save me. I'm a lost cause.

Maybe you want to know why I did it all.

Sorry. I can't tell you why I did it.

I suppose I'm really not sorry, though. I don't want you to have to live through anything remotely close to what I have.

Nothing really matters anymore.

I'm just waiting to be sent to Hell.

Maybe I'm already there. Maybe this is my eternal punishment.

I wouldn't be surprised. I deserve it, after all. Why not make part of my life an introduction to the suffering that I've induced? Fitting, eh?

Listen to me. I'm not much of a host; postulating on stupidity and ignoring my guest's needs.

The bathroom is the second room to the right down the hallway. Across the hall is your bedroom. There is some food in the kitchen. I hope you know how to use Muggle appliances. I've learned.

Why don't you clean yourself up? Wipe off the dirt that I've managed to get on you from my words.

What's that? You don't think I've made you dirty?

You're a witty one.

Alas, no, I make everyone dirty that comes in contact with me. It's part of my curse. Worse than any curse a wand could produce.

I don't have my wand, of course.

I don't really care where it is. The less weapons available to me, the better. I'm a dangerous criminal, after all.

Do they still teach History of Magic? I know it's not very interesting, but perhaps you should pay attention; learn from the past's mistakes.

It'd be good to know that the future is safe.

I don't know.

I can't know. Nobody can. Not even the alleged "Seers" out there.

A bit of a morbid conversation we're having. Hope you don't mind.

Of course you mind. You're a good person. I can see that. I've always been able to see the good people.

It's how I knew who to kill.

Hmm? Are you tired? Perhaps you should rest. Talking tends to tire people out.

In fact, I think you should go before I use your wand to do something I shouldn't.

Yes, I stole your wand. Are you not surprised?

Wouldn't you, if left to die in the desert, grasp at a canteen lying in the sand?

Even if it were empty?

I knew you would understand.

But you should leave. I've killed enough people. I don't need to add another to my list.

Compassion? You think I have compassion because I want you to be spared from my wrath?

You are very witty indeed. No, visitor, I do this because I do not want more innocent blood on my own hands. I could care less who you are.

But, before you leave, I would ask of you one thing.

Like a sphinx, my question must be answered correctly, or else terrible consequences will arise.

It is but a simple question. After all, you are the one who sought me out, so you should be able to answer it effectively.

The answer is something I can't quite recall now.

But, I knew the answer once, and I'm sure that once you tell me the correct response, my memory will be returned to me.

I suppose I should end my rambling and ask my question before you perish of old age.

Perhaps that is how I will end up killing you. I always end up finding a way to kill those with whom I speak.

What? You wish me to ask my question?

Patience is a virtue. You must learn this at some point in your lifetime.

I don't think I'm the one to teach you it. I had little patience myself. In a way, I still don't have any.

It's probably because I don't want to know the answer to my question.

Knowledge may be power, but it is also deadly.

Very well. I shall end this right here and now. I shall ask my question and you shall answer me.

Are you truly ready, or would you rather to listen to my meanderings for a while longer?

No, I understand. I'm being long-winded. Of course, if I was short-winded, you may be dead by now. Consider it a mixed blessing.

You see, traveler, my question is simply this:

Who am I?