Dear Nobody

Additional Disclaimer: This is a translation! I (pandora903) am not the author! The original is written in German by Zerengeb, it can be found here. Translation done with author's permission. Reviews made here will be forwarded to the author.

A/N:
Disclaimer: If somebody thinks, anything would belong to me, he belongs on Padma's couch ;-)

T/N: In this place, there were some answers to reviews made concerning the original. I won't translate them now, and in the following chapters neither, because they're quite simply uninteresting for the English speaking readers.

Once again, my gratitude to Melissa! I wouldn't dare (yeah, I've learned that ;-) ) to publish it without the improvements you made...and I'm really looking forward to continuing working together!

And finally: I'm happy about every single review I get! So please don't forget to leave a note ;-)

A/N In the next chapters there'll be, above all, pointed out the war and Ron's role in it with the help of longer and more detailed flashbacks. I hope this sort of writing will meet the readers' approval.

Have fun!

_____________________________________________________________________________

"The letter's good, although I'm honestly a little offended by your little allusion to me," Padma explained finally.

Ron sighed, irritated.

They had spent the last hour analysing Ron's letter to Sirius and drawing from it conclusions on his state of mind.

Ron didn't like being analyzed like that. It didn't suit him at all.

His mental health was his problem and not anyone else's.

Okay, as long as only he was concerned, but for his wife's and his children's sake he'd overcome himself and end what he had begun

"So, what'll be next?" he asked, clearly on edge.

"You'll keep writing, until I see that it was sufficient to help you. You wrote to Sirius because he was the first who died?"

Ron nodded silently.

"Then keep writing to the next one and continue like that, until we're finished."

Ron swallowed his biting comments and just nodded.

"Okay, then we're finished for today," Padma said, relieved that Ron didn't freak out as usual.

He nodded once again and walked out without another word.

In the foyer of Padma's office, he apparated to the Ministry's staff entrance.

He wanted to finish some reports before going home.

The day after tomorrow would be Hermione's birthday and because of that Ron wanted to take a day off.

But in favour, he'd have to work overtime a bit.

He stepped into the elevator and went to the second floor, which formed the second to the last of the subterraneous building.

Arriving there he turned directly to the Auror Headquarters where he worked.

Yes, he, Ronald Weasley, had become one of the best Aurors in Great Britain. Now, he worked in training.

It had been a long time since he last went on field missions.

He hadn't been able to bear the fighting anymore. He was tired of it. But to convey his knowledge to a pack of inquiring cadets was both very satisfying and fulfilling.

He possessed a lot of expert knowledge and belonged to the senior Aurors in the Ministry.

But that was only because most of the others had lost their lives in the fight against Voldemort.

He reached his office which lay locked away from those of the others.

Yes, being one of the superior Aurors had its advantages. No open office cell where everybody could look into, no noise or unwanted interruptions.

Sighing deeply, he turned to the stack of parchment waiting to be worked through. One of the downsides of his job.

But moaning about didn't help, so Ron decided to start immediately.

When he had read reports thoroughly and checked them concerning their integrity, he zoned out again and again towards his session with Padma.

The next letter, to the next dead.

Irony, that he sat right in the office which once belonged to the person he was supposed to write to next.

Mad Eye Moody, the legendary Auror. Ron shook his head and directed his attention towards the reports again.

But it didn't help.

"Better sooner than later," he murmured and grabbed an empty parchment.

_______________________________________________________________________________

Dear Mad Eye,

...

Man, even on paper that looks ridiculous!

Hey, how are you. Not that well, I suppose? Constant vigilance, yes, yes. Didn't help in the end either.

I don't know what went on inside of you when that bloody Rookwood threw the Avada Kedavra at your back.

Maybe some not very flattering revilements.

Don't say anything, I know that I'm right.

Well, now you're dead, even one of the first, who died and I'm still surprised about that since you were the real fighter. You alone were the real warrior, the perfect soldier. I believe that even Voldemort himself felt some kind of respect for you.

I remember how Harry, Hermione and I ran into an ambush of the Death Eaters in Diagon Alley. We were outnumbered ten to one, but then there was you.

Ten Death Eaters weren't fit to hold a candle to you, in spite of your age you were fast, precise and merciless. You were the role model that Harry used for his D.A. drill. Although we had separated from the Order of the Phoenix, you always protected us, you fought and suffered with us. You probably even enjoyed it.

And then, in the space of a second, they got you. The eye was probably in the wrong position or was stuck once again. I can't explain it any other way.

Well, the reason I'm writing to you is the following: I can't take it anymore. I'm tired of fighting and I'm sick of the never ending feelings of guilt!

You were completely different.

One could sense that the retirement didn't do you good, but as the war gathered momentum, you came to live like a flower in the sunlight.

Fighting did you good, one felt it. You became less paranoid, you could think faster and one could sense it in your movements.

When I saw you the first time, you were just a cripple. The war gave you strength, for just after a short time you moved with your wooden leg faster, more elegant and steadier than I could with two healthy ones.

Yes, fighting also creates men like you, who live in this cruelty and feel comfortable. But in times of peace you felt useless, I noticed that.

Even now, I still admire the Great Mad Eye Moody, with his experience, his integrity, the ability to unsettle every enemy and to prod every ally to peak performance.

You were a mentor. The only one who was able to show us the acuteness of fighting.

By you I learned how to control myself, how to demoralize the enemy by one's gestures. I learned to combine the necessary caution with the necessary risk. You showed us how to break into houses the right way and how to free oneself from an ambush. And you taught us how to kill...

You certainly turned in your grave as Harry and I aimed our first Killing Curse at a target. For your principles were always definite, in spite of the cruelties you experienced.

You despised the Forbidden Curses and you never used them on a human.

But Harry, Hermione, Neville and I became puppets of our hate. We were consumed by the darkness without recognizing it. To defeat a monster, we had become monsters ourselves. But no action goes without a consequence. Every sin has its price and I still pay it today.

I tried to justify myself, but it doesn't work. I tried to put the blame on the circumstances, but it's a fact that we wanted it.

We wanted the hate! And the more we hated the others, the more we wanted to hate. A vicious circle that drew us deeper and deeper.

But it paid off, in some way.

I indeed had to sell my soul, but my children, all children can live in a safe world.

I desperately hope that those who follow me won't have to pay the price for my sins. I want to hope that never again will somebody's parents, somebody's brother, sister, son, daughter or anyone else be killed in a battle. I want to hope, that I am, and that I stay, the last sinner. I want to hope, for myself, for my children and for the memory of my friends and of all those who don't live anymore.

I know you can understand, maybe you're the only one.

Don't get on the angels' wick too much.

Ron

_______________________________________________________________________________

It was strange, he really felt better after finishing this letter.

And still, he couldn't prevent all the thoughts and memories floating through his quill onto the paper took possession of him now. And once again, like after the last letter, he sank into gloomy memories...

_______________________________________________________________________________

Flashback One

"Now come on, I only want to buy the new books, plus, I need parchment and new quills," said Hermione brightly.

"We're on our way. Just let me finish my ice cream," Ron complained about the haste.

Harry nodded silently.

It was during their summer holidays before their sixth year and Harry had been in a depressive mood for weeks. Only now and then he said anything at all. Most of the time was reclusive or sat silently beside them.

Ron and Hermione had decided to treat him just as usual so that he didn't recognize their worries.

But of course, Harry had seen through them.

But since he didn't complain, he seemed to like it, although one couldn't say that for sure regarding his current state of mind.

Ron hurried to finish his huge sundae and then they strolled towards Flourish and Blott's, the leading stationery and bookstore in Diagon Alley.

Hermione, who had spent the large part of her holidays at home, wanted to get her schoolbooks. Harry and Ron had already done their shopping a week ago and were only accompanying her. Some needed change to get out of Headquarters and see some sunshine.

They ambled through the store and collected everything they needed.

After Hermione had paid, they left the store and went back to the Leaky Cauldron.

But they didn't get far.

It was like a sudden summer storm.

The popping of apparating people filled Diagon Alley and only seconds later, uncountable curses flew through the air, spoken suddenly by hooded figures who seemed to be everywhere.

Ron pulled Hermione to the ground just in time with him, otherwise one of the deadly green light beams would have hit her.

Harry had also thrown himself to the ground and started immediately to defend himself.

He fired one Stunning Spell after another into the crowd.

Ron and Hermione helped after they got under cover.

The whole Alley, in which until recently life had bloomed, had become an ocean of screams and explosions.

Ron didn't know how long he had fought the Death Eaters, but there seemed to be more and more.

But all of a sudden, they drew back.

Ron felt a power floating though Diagon Alley, like a slight summer wind.

Then he heard the rhythmic thumping from wood on stone.

Mad Eye Moody coming around the corner.

All curses thrown by the Death Eaters rebounded on his ward, none of them was powerful enough to get through it.

Mad Eye instead threw a fast sequence of spells on the attackers.

Many went to the ground. Their wards were useless facing the power of the legendary Auror.

From all sides people suddenly poured into Diagon Alley who joined the fight against the Death Eaters.

Phoenix Agents and Ministry Wizards.

Ron was relieved to see this turn. Any later and they would have been defenceless. But now he watched, awestruck, Moody's destroyed face, whom he had, up to now, considered an old and paranoid nutter, whose best times were over.

"Just some bloody amateurs," the old Auror snarled. "But quite a lot of them. You were lucky that I was near..."

End of Flashback One

_______________________________________________________________________________

Flashback Two

"Not that wild!" Moody shouted, but too late. Ron was already knocked out.

When he opened his eyes again, he looked into one black and one blue eye which were firmly fixed on his.

"Congratulations, Weasley. You're dead," said Moody matter-of-factly.

"You ran directly into Harry's fireline, for Merlin's sake. I'll explain it to you one last time, stay out of your backer's curseline. Enter the room in an acute angle opposite to your partner and secure it, not in a flat but in an acute angle, got it?"

Ron only nodded, silent.

Disagreeing would only have risen the old man's temper

It was now December in their sixth year.

Dumbledore had decided that Moody should show the more at risk students how to fight. Harry, in particular, should be prepared to fulfil his destiny and be a suitable opponent to Voldemort.

Moody met his demands with pleasure.

Continuously, he let them practise Curses and Defences, or like today, the intrusion of rooms. They had chosen the oldest dungeon for it.

Phoenix Agents playing Death Eaters were arranged everywhere in the rooms.

Ron still couldn't do it. Too often he got into the curseline of his backers or entered the rooms the wrong way, displaying an easy target.

Moody got lost in his explanations as Ron's thoughts drifted away.

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" bellowed Moody and jerked the redhead out of his thoughts.

"Well then, you maggots, get to the start and one more try," the old man snarled and followed the group of students, who launched once again into the next hallway, in a ducked posture.

End Flashback Two

_______________________________________________________________________________

Flashback Three

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Ron yelled towards the Dementors which glided towards the surrounded group.

A silver stag, an otter and a bear already fought against this breed which seemed to come directly from hell.

A huge lion erupted from his wand and stormed towards the hooded soul suckers.

A group of motionless bodies that were still breathing showed what the Dementors did to their victims. Their souls were lost.

But Ron didn't have time to think about that. He had to concentrate.

It was only his second mission in the Order of the Phoenix, and just today the Death Eaters had looked for the open battle, attacking a group of Muggles at a fair.

It was the first open battle, an ambush. And they ran straight into it.

They arrived with ten members to chase five Death Eaters. But now there were ten times as many, plus twenty Dementors. They were encircled, no way to flee or call for help. Damn!

There were explosions everywhere, innocent people were struck down by curses and there were still Muggles around.

The Obliviators sent by the Ministry lay either soulless on the battlefield or their body parts were dispersed all around the place.

Ron didn't even have time to regurgitate his lunch since he was too busy trying to stay alive.

Some curse had hit his leg and he was bleeding heavily.

He already felt slightly dizzy. Besides, there were black spots dancing in front of his eyes.

But his instinct to survive, which had taken him over completely, prevented him from losing consciousness.

He watched the events of the battle and had to admit that they would have been lost without Mad Eye, Kingsley and Tonks.

The Aurors showed why they were so dreaded and fought like mad.

They threw their curses with precision against every opponent within reach, conjured wards or traps to protect themselves; doing all this with nearly unbelievable speed which proved the long lasting training and experience.

Even the usually clumsy Nymphadora Tonks was renewed. She moved with a certainty and functional elegance which proved her unskillfulness in other life situations completely wrong.

The battle gained more intensity.

Their allies fell dead one after the other.

Mathew Regan, a 40-year-old cursebreaker recruited by Bill only recently, already lay on the ground, hit by a Killing Curse.

Sturgis Podmore had broken down bleeding heavily and got patched together in a rough-and-ready way.

George, his older brother had a heavy burn on his face and Harry struggled to stay upright. His left arm hung limply at his side.

Ron managed to shock some Death Eaters as the Patroni kept the Dementors at bay.

But more and more black-dressed people pushed nearer to the small group that had barricaded itself in a small house. Ron turned around as something smacked against him.

He realized, horrified, that Claire Valentine's head, a young Phoenix Agent from America who covered their backs, got burst by a curse.

Ron had gotten almost the complete content of the skull. Blood and other things soaked his cloak.

But he didn't have the time or disgust for anything else except to keep enemies from entering through the gaps in their defences.

On his left side he heard a scream and recognized Mad Eye, who had fallen down with a fixed expression. In the shadows loomed a dark figure.

Kingsley and Tonks immediately threw curses at Mad Eye's treacherous murderer.

The mask fell in tatters to the floor and Ron recognized the pockmarked Augustus Rookwood, who now lay dead in front of him.

But he didn't have time. He had to keep fighting, just like everyone else. No time to think, no time for horror or mourning. All that counted was survival.

And they made it, for finally help arrived.

Aurors and Phoenix Agents in great numbers apparated on the battlefield and pushed back the Death Eaters.

They had made it, they had survived...

End Flashback Three

_______________________________________________________________________________

Now, years older, Ron Weasley remembered this first great battle shamefully.

He had been so happy of having survived himself that he had neither mourned the dead nor had he tried to help the others. At that time, he had almost only paid attention to his own butt and a new wave of guilt washed over him...