Nothing Left To Say

After the death of a hero, there has to be somewhere to lay the blame...

He stood up in front of them all, his voice clear across the dead silence.

"Most of you know who I am, I'm here just to say a few words. I knew Harry better than anyone, and while that may come as a surprise, I'd like to tell you a few things he said before... well, before.

Most of you are shocked and saddened and looking for answers, unable to understand what would have driven Harry to this. I can give you some of your answers, but I can't guarantee that any of you will like them. Some of you will be thinking of You-Know-Who at this point, asking yourselves if there was any reason there, asking if the horror he saw could have driven him to some point of madness. I am here today to say no, It wasn't the madness forced on him by Voldemort which brings us here on this day, but the madness of those who claimed to love him best.

But let's start at the very beginning though. Let's start with someone who promised before God, in this church nonetheless, to watch over Harry..."

"You know, I've never forgiven Sirius for what he did... No, not swapping with Peter at the last minute... but allowing himself to be taken away from me. After that night in the Shrieking Shack back in the third year, I used to lie awake and think to myself about what would have happened if Sirius had done what was right. Left Peter alone for the Aurors to deal with. Taken me to look after like he promised my mum and dad he would do. One decision that changed both our lives, both for the worse... I think I hate him now. I could have forgiven him for changing with Peter, he never meant for my parents to die, I know that, but the decision to go after Peter was all his, and it almost killed me. Probably still will... Anyway, they just all packed me off to the house from hell and let me get on with it. Oh, I know Dumbledore claimed it was for my own good, I heard the stories about me being better off by growing up not knowing how famous I was and that might have been true, but it meant I went through eleven years of abuse and I won't forgive him for that either... God, the time I spent in that house doesn't seem real now. From the moment I stepped into the Great Hall, I knew I was home, really home, and I still think that now. But that I can't escape the feeling that nobody really cared for me there, either. Oh, they worried about me, sure, all those times I faced danger and times I nearly died, but they never cared about me. Just the person I was, this image that they all knew. Ron and Hermione, too, you know. They ended up so wrapped up in their own little world to see what was happening to me. They just thought I could handle it all, like I could handle Voldemort. What they could never see was that that was the easy part. While he was there I could focus, focus on not remembering. Now there is nothing left to focus on and all I can see are these terrible thoughts crowding round my head. Thoughts from my childhood, the one they all chose for me. The one thing I can never defeat, never kill... I'm glad I spoke to you, you know. I wanted someone out there to understand. At least one. Try to explain for me, won't you? I know it'll be hard for you to tell and for them to hear, but they all need to know, so they don't make the same mistake twice..."

He looked up at the faces that filled the church. They were white and many people were crying in silence, the tears simply streaming down their cheeks. There was only one thing left to say now.

"I'm sorry... but he wanted me to tell you all... sorry..."

And with that, and a final glance at the coffin, Draco Malfoy walked down the steps and up the aisle of the church and out into the bright summer sunshine.