CHAPTER 10

A/N: There are no words. Just thank you for sticking with me and goodbye. I don't know if I'll ever get round to writing part 2 but I've made this last chapter as brilliant as I possibly can just in case I don't. Hope you enjoy it.

Albus was asleep when James finally arrived at St. Mungo's late that evening. McGonagall had wanted him to wait until the morning, but James couldn't possibly wait. He wouldn't have been able to sleep with the suspense anyway.

James was careful not to wake his brother, conscious he'd need all the sleep he could to get home. It was enough for James just to sit beside him and watch him sleep. His breathing and chest rises were sporadic; his sleep wasn't peaceful at all. There was a bead of sweat trickling slowly down his brow and his eyes danced under his lids, as if closed into some mystic, ritualistic trance.

James sat back and watched, almost enthralled by the sight before him. It made his heart sink just looking at it; his brother seemed so utterly alone in that world. That world he went to every time he even dared to close his eyes. James couldn't imagine how awful it must be; the fear of pain and that place of utter desolation whenever he slept.

James had been warned about Albus. Rosie and Harry had talked to him, both saying exactly the same thing. He had changed, he wasn't the same person that he was before Azkaban. He's not himself. Don't expect anything. It hurt James to think what they were saying. He was supposed to give up hope; completely forget everything that had happened. Forget his brother and admit defeat to whatever force has changed his brother for the worse. It hurt James to completely give up hope; he wanted to speak to his brother again, the brother he knew. He wanted to hold him once more, and tell him that everything would one day be okay again… he wanted to scream and cry and assure his brother that he'd never let anything happen like that again. He wanted to make his brother safe again. Innocent again.

He wanted to be the brother that he'd failed to be, whilst Albus rotted in an Azkaban cell.

He couldn't do it, of course. Albus had changed now; that's what everyone kept on telling him. Albus wasn't the same any more. The time where they could lay here and pretend everything would be fine was long since passed. Now was the time for reality. Now was the time for healing and moving on, however they could think to manage it.

Now it was time to grow up and end the tale.

Albus woke up ten minutes after Hanes had arrived in the hospital wing. He was sweating even more than before, and he had to cough the instant his eyes flashed open. He looked rough; beaten to a pulp and sucked dry. He looked like the shell of a boy; existing with only the smallest possible amount of life force. Because that's all he was doing really; existing. Surviving at all costs.

"James," Albus croaked. There wasn't enough life in his voice for it to contain emotion. It was dry and brittle sounding. It sounded like the doomed, sorrowful moan of an old dying man, slowly losing the will to go on any longer. He was the mind of a bitter old man locked inside an eleven year old boy.

Eleven years old.

It struck James for the first time in the moment that they'd missed Albus' eleventh birthday. He'd spent it in Azkaban. James gulped.

"Albus," he said, trying to sound overjoyed. His voice couldn't really manage the tone. "I…" his voice faded out. "I've missed you," he muttered out, smiling just slightly.

"Yeah," Albus said. His voice sounded like the grinding of stone and his breathed exhaustion.

James didn't reply. It was awkward; he felt unwanted in the room. Albus clearly wanted to be alone but… It was hard. James just wanted to hug him. Give him back all the trust and attention that had been stolen from him in Azkaban. "Rosie said you wouldn't want to talk to me," James mumbled, desperately trying to make conversation. "But I didn't really believe her. I've wanted to see you ever since you left and…" he trailed off, realising how pathetic he sounded. He shrugged. "I can see you're not really in the mood. I… I'll… go home if you want… I'll leave you alone."

Albus looked thoughtful for a second. "No," he croaked out eventually. "I need some company."

James broke out into a wide grin. It was a start. "Rosie's kinda sad, y'know," he said, matter of factly. "She thinks you don't care about her anymore."

Albus shrugged.

"Do you?"

No reply.

James gulped. This wasn't going to be easy. "We still care about you, y'know."

Albus gave a feeble attempt at a smile. He was trying.

"It's been horrible y'know… For all of us… Rosie…" James broke off. "She wants her cousin back."

Albus almost scowled before breaking out into a fit of coughs. The sound was like the crashing of a harsh whip that seemed to reverberate far longer than was ever intended. And Albus was spluttering out between the vicious fits: "You said you'd visit me," the coughing made his tone worse than it should, "You said…" it was hoarse and cold… "You said…" his chest swallowed up the last of his words, in a crashing crescendo that rung around James head like a bitter memory. Nobody spoke for a second as Albus writhed in the aftermath of his fit. His voice sounded like it was imploding on itself as he struggled for breath. "You told me I would be okay," he whimpered. "You told me I'd be home in a week and that you'd come and see me every day and…" his voice gave out again. "I needed you and you didn't come. Nobody came." Albus spoke those last two words as if it were a death sentence; his own death sentence.

James' eyes sparkled as a lump formed in his throat. "They wouldn't let me come and see you. I begged and screamed at them but… they wouldn't let us see each other, Al. I wanted to, you have to believe me. I would give anything for… just for that to be me, not you. Anybody but my baby brother." His voice gave way.

Albus sighed. "I'm not your baby brother anymore… things have changed now. g like what they used to be… won't ever be again."

"But… you're still my brother Al. You're still you, underneath it all. I'm still me… I'm your brother, Al."

Albus didn't speak for another thirty seconds before finally settling upon his words. "You'll always be my brother, James. I'll always love you like my brother… remember that. But you can't be here for me anymore… I don't need anybody here anymore. Things have changed too much for them to be like before."

"But Al…"

"James," Albus said, coldly. "I think you should leave now."

James' mouth gaped open for a moment yet he said nothing. After a hesitant moment, he nodded. He would respect his brother's wishes, even if it killed him to leave.

It was three days later when Albus was finally allowed to go home. It was a strange feeling, knowing that this was the first time he'd set foot into his house for over six months. It didn't feel like six months. It felt like an eternity; the longest possible six months of his life.

Of course, the healers were reluctant to see him leave, as was most of the team from the Department of Mysteries. He'd been given a hip flask full of potion and had strict instruction regarding when it was to be drunk. It was to be taken on the hour, every hour, from six o clock in the morning to nine o clock in the evening. On a brighter note, they said that once his body has calmed down from the trauma of Azkaban, he'd be able to take it less often; maybe every three of four hours… they told him to see how it went. They also mentioned something about it being unnecessary during the night, because he took it so often during the day… He wasn't really listening.

Albus was just glad to be going home, if he was honest.

The whole family and Rose had turned up to drive him here. The look that she had behind her eyes as she stood in his private ward was one of mixed comprehension. She felt betrayed by her cousin that much was certain. She longed for the days when they could talk openly like friends; laugh, cry, express any range of emotions under the sun because they trusted and loved each other. Those days had passed now. Albus didn't trust anybody anymore; he had been hurt and betrayed by the people he depended on most. Albus could see all that behind her eyes; sadness, regret, bitterness, all mixed in with an insatiable anger and a raging empathy for her best friend. She didn't want things to go on any longer. Each time she looked at her cousin she could see Azkaban screaming out of his every vessel.

"Albus," Harry coughed, mildly. He grinned. "I think we should be moving out now."

For the first time this week, Albus was making a genuine effort to look happy, for the sake of his family. Admittedly, he wasn't doing a very good job of it, but they could see he was trying. It meant a lot.

Albus plastered a fake smile on his face and gently clambered out of the hospital bed. He hadn't bothered to change out of his pyjamas, because he would be going straight back to bed when he got home. God knows he needed the rest.

They arrived at number 12 Grimmauld Place about half an hour later, owing to an abundance of seemingly unnecessary security measures and paperwork. Albus could practically swear they were deliberately making things difficult for him.

James helped him up the stairs to the bedroom as soon as they arrived through the fireplace, seeing as though he was still very weak, an issue which a journey through the floo network had only worsened.

James was very careful, keeping a firm hand which somehow managed to comfort Albus and keep him calm all at the same time.

Albus was shocked to find that all of James' things had been moved out of the room that they had always shared together. The bunk bed that had stood by the window for almost nine years had been abandoned, replaced now with a slightly larger single bed of Albus' own. All of Albus' things were still there, practically in an identical state to how they'd been left in September but there was a whole side of the room completely bare. The red and gold Gryffindor banner that James had always had up, even since before he knew what Gryffindor was, had been taken down, as well as the crudely attached Quidditch posters he'd thrown up over the years. All the memories they had gathered growing up had been torn away, leaving the room bare; cold and unfamiliar.

James noted the confused expression on Albus' face as he gently laid him down on the bed. James' pulled a regretful smile; kind yet apologetic. "Dad…" he trailed off… "Dad thought we were getting a bit old to be sharing a room now…" he sighed. "He thought you needed your own space."

Albus looked distressed for a brief second, before he snapped back into dead pan. He said nothing of it; merely nodded serenely and muttered something like "He's probably right."

He knew the real reason why James' bed had been moved; it hit him almost instantly. It was because of the dreams. The constant writhing and pulsating in Albus' sleep that Harry knew would keep James awake. It wasn't fair.

James didn't say anything but he'd noticed the regret on his brother's face. This just served to remind everyone how much things had changed. He breathed slowly, as he gently tucked his brother into bed, just as their mother had always done when they were younger. He felt maternal for a moment, taking care of his brother like a son. He wanted that feeling, to feel responsible.

"Thanks James," Albus muttered, not seeming at all grateful.

"S'okay," James replied, clearly not picking up Albus' tone. "Make sure you rest, okay? Take your potion at twelve O'clock and if you need anything I'll just be down the hall. I've moved into the old drawing room, okay?"

Albus nodded, smiling graciously.

"Well bye, then."

The atmosphere was tense as the two boys exchanged their goodbyes. So many things rang through that needed to be said, so many thing that bother were too scared to bring up.

It was going to be a long time before things were back to normal.

August 24th

One week to go.

Things hadn't changed in the seven months since Albus had returned from St. Mungo's. He'd made an effort with his family, everyone could see that. But he still didn't trust them, and that was clear to everyone who spoke to the boy. It hurt them that he wasn't the child they used to love anymore.

It was getting better though; it wasn't always just cold and distant situations. Sometimes they could have a perfectly amicable conversation, almost like they had always used to. Sometimes James could persuade his brother to play Quidditch with him and they'd fly around for hours; smiling and laughing occasionally.

But it was always there.

The Darkness behind Albus' eye was always there; lingering. Serving only to remind everybody of what they had done. It haunted Albus' face like a curse and haunted everyone else's minds like the darkest of nightmares. And there was that underlying fear, the despicable notion that they dare even contemplate for fear of it actually happening. The horrible thought that his eyes would glaze over; change back to pitch black and the rest of the body with it.

But that was nothing compared to the fear that his eyes would change and the rest of him staying the same.

Another nightmare.

It was bad this time, like Azkaban all over again.

The whole house was a blur. Everyone was dead.

He could see them dying, over and over again in his mind. Each and every time they fell, over and over again, dropping like flies, everyone he loved, everybody he'd ever cared about. It was always him. Every time he saw himself doing it, kneeling before them and killing them with hands watching and laughing as they screamed, yet collapsing inwardly every time he saw them. He had no control over his body, and nothing he could possibly do was making any difference. He was trapped behind his own eyes.

And there was that man.

Every time he killed someone, he saw a shadow of the man behind their faces. The man he'd killed before; the one who started all this. That Auror. He couldn't shake that face; the kind, bearded image of a man too young to die. He was a good man. Unlike Albus.

James was screaming. It was always James. And James stared at him with that look on his face; a look of utter sadness and irrevocable betrayal. What had he done? What was he doing?

And Albus was crying as his hands grasped around James throat, constricting ever so slowly, more and more, tighter and tighter… the most painful exhilarating experience of his life. The rush of life, the rush of the kill. It coursed through his veins like a plague yet stabbed at his very core all at the same time as he gently bled out the life force from his brother; soaking it up. It was wonderful; he needed this, he deserved this. Everything had been stolen from him and he was stealing it back. His happiness, his innocence… his sanity.

And they were screaming; both of them – howling like the echoing cries of a banshee. James face was purple; stained with tears and sweat and blood. His veins throbbed out as he cried out for his lost brother, he cried in anguish and sorrow as Albus constricted him. He was shaking as he lay there, totally suppressed. There was nothing he could do except scream, louder and louder, his hoarse voice intermingling with the deep, alluring sound that was Albus final battle cry. At last it would be over.

And the screams were getting louder. Screams of hate, screams of love, screams of utter desolation and a desperate need for something that was anything. Something real and alive and utterly incomparable. Madness. Madness. Nothing was happening. Nothing could come. A cry of life and a shout of death as Albus' hands got tighter and tighter and louder and louder, never stopping to breathe never stopping to love as the whole and utter complexity of death bled out of James' neck with a fading and alluring squeal.

And Albus' whole body was shaking he couldn't take another moment of the pain that such a rush caused. How he could he love yet hate so much at once? How could he feel such anger and pain all in the same moment?

And with a final cry that shook the very walls of his imagination Albus' grip exploded backwards, the pain final winning over and throwing him off his brother. His small body sprang back; hurling through the air and shattering onto the back wall, as the whole house slowly dissolved, and he finally shot up from his sleep with an echo of madness that still haunts Grimmauld Place to this day.

And for a moment there was nothing.

Absolute silence.

Albus' eyes glazed over with tears. He was still shaking and his throat was raw from incessant screaming. He groaned slightly, realising that he'd been screaming once again in his sleep. He'd have woken the whole house was his piercing cries. It was different this time, usually his nightmares just made him shake and moan. Nothing loud enough to disturb the rest of the house; they could just ignore it. They'd never get any sleep otherwise. He could still hear his screams; they were cold and painful. Empty yet so utterly vulnerable all at the same time.

It was seconds before James rushed into his room. He looked terrified; Albus hadn't had a nightmare like this since he'd come out of Azkaban.

"Albus," he croaked, desperately… "Albus are you okay, what happened?"

Albus coughed. "I just…" he trailed off. "Nightmare."

James quickly jumped onto the bed beside Albus. He gently put his arm around his brother and hugged him tightly.

Nobody spoke for a moment.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"It was… It was horrible. I saw it again… I see it every time."

"What happened Albus?"

"Every time I see it… Everyone dies, every time." He flashed his face upwards to meet his brother's eye. "I'm killing them."

"Albus…"

"And it's wonderful… I crave it; the rush and… And it's horrible at the same time."

"What happened, Al? Why were you screaming?"

Albus gulped. "Because this time I didn't kill you. I was blasted away... I was thrown backwards and it felt like I was exploding and everything was happening at once and I couldn't breathe or…"

"Shh…" James rocked him gently for a moment. "Don't worry Al… it was just a dream. You're not like that. That's not you."

"And every time… Every time I do it I see his face… the man I killed, I see his face like a ghost. And it's screaming, it's always screaming…"

And yet somehow through it all, Albus was still not crying. His body shook and his voice was a tremor, but his eyes were bone dry. His voice was hardening once again, he was losing all sense of the sadness he had felt.

And in that moment James realised something. He saw a look in Albus' eyes. It was a look of grief, yet utter determination. It said something. It said that Albus was going to survive, no matter what, at every cost possible. It said that Albus would fight for life, harder than anyone had ever fought before. He'd ever moment of the most ordinary things that would feel like the world, just because they're so normal. And he'd fight for every day that would feel like a gift. And James saw that beneath his brother's eyes, and for the first time he could begin to appreciate things. He understood now why Albus had to go through this. He understood the seven months of hate; the bitter and cold personality that was so pitiful yet so difficult to love all at the same time. Because of hate was born a streak of madness. A madness that bore determination and a will to live that surpassed everything.

From now on Albus was going to survive.

The burrow was alive was commotion. It was the night before the first day of term; the last night of the holidays. The whole family was gathered around the house, as well as a myriad of family friends; the Scamanders, the Longbottoms as well as Teddy Lupin and Andromeda. Albus rolled his eyes. His grandmother insisted on this family get together every year and he always hated them. His family was so big you couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the thirty-five odd people that came every year.

James, of course, was in his element. All those people to show off to… Albus grinned almost sarcastically as his brother scarpered around the garden with Teddy, acting like a massive idiot.

Things had been easier this last week. James and Albus had been talking more and conversations were starting to seem less forced. It was like things were finally returning back to normal around the Potter household. James was beginning to act like an idiot again, which in any other circumstance would piss Albus off… But now it meant that things weren't affecting James anymore… Nobody had seen that childish, playful grin on his face for over a year now. It was a relief not to see him acting so adult anymore. The downside was that Albus had to endure his endless annoyances.

Albus kept his distance.

There was a buffet table in the middle of the garden, filled with even more food than the Weasley family could eat. Not that they weren't trying, especially with James about. James rarely left the vicinity of the buffet table for longer than about thirty seconds.

Albus was sitting in the corner of his Grandmother's garden, trying as best he could to stay away from the rest of the family. Especially James… as much as Albus loved his brother, he didn't particularly love being the centre of attention.

He hadn't eaten much this evening. He wasn't really that hungry and didn't particularly fancy the idea of wading through the crowd anyway. No, he was quite content hiding away in the corner with his book.

"Hey Al."

Albus groaned inwardly. Harry had decided to take it upon himself to check on Albus. Albus gritted his teeth but attempted to seem polite nonetheless. "Oh hey Dad."

"Are you alright? You're looking kind of lonely here."

Albus shrugged. "I'm alright… I don't really like these kinds of things anyway."

Harry smiled. "I know…" He broke off, struggling for conversation. "Are you excited for tomorrow?"

"Hmm…" Albus looked considerate for a second as he closed his book. "Bit worried really…" he shrugged. "But happy to be going," he assured.

Harry sighed. "It's been a hard year. I'm just glad they let you go in the end. I think you're brave… y'know for staying strong and not letting things stop you. I don't think I could have done that at your age."

Albus chuckled slightly. "Of course you could… you were like super wizard…"

Harry laughed. "I was never brave…I … I just used to go into situation without thinking and got lucky. I always had help… I couldn't do it without Ron and Hermione."

"You're better than I ever was." Albus said. "I'm not strong enough to beat my demons."

"Albus I think you're the strongest person I know…" he gently took his son's hand. "Just because you can't beat this thing doesn't mean you're not strong. We'll beat this thing one day, I promise."

There were so many things that Albus wanted to say in that moment. He almost wanted to scream at his Dad. Liar. You said that last time. You said you'd never let them take me. You lied all along, you're lying now. I can see it in your eyes. You can't help me. You won't help me.

Instead Albus just smiled half-heartedly. "Yeah," he muttered. "I suppose."

It had taken Harry about another ten minutes to leave after that horrendous conversation. Albus immediately hightailed after he disappeared; not risking another rendezvous.

The Burrow was a tall, leaning rectangular shape with protruding sections all the way up the height, held together only with the force of magic. Albus scaled the enormous oak tree in the far corner of the garden and moved onto the roof of the kitchen which was about twenty feet in the air. The kitchen was one of these protruding areas. It sat in the shadow of an even larger one that hovered off the ground, connected only by one side to the main structure of the house. James and Albus had always used to come here when they were younger. It was easily accessible, and held a perfect vantage over the rest of the garden. It was also almost completely hidden as a result of the looming shadow from the room above which darkened the whole area into blackness.

Albus perched himself on a log that he and James had somehow managed to drag up the tree when they were younger. He couldn't honestly remember how they managed it, though he suspected magic was involved.

It had been years since the days when they came here, almost every week. The log was rotting now, you could only faintly see the names that they had carved into it, long ago. James & Albus. Albus giggled. How cliché.

How much things had changed since then.

The moment was bittersweet; reminiscing all the times of a happy childhood, before everything went wrong. They'd always been the best of friends even though their personalities were so fundamentally different. Albus smirked and looked over the edge of the garden to look at his brother. James was gallivanting around with Martin Longbottom now. They'd had Martin around a few times over the holidays; him and James were practically best friends at school. They were both Gryffindors of course, and had known each other since early childhood.

As Albus carefully observed the scene unfolding beneath him, he heard a soft rustling coming from the tree that led up to the roof. He scowled slightly, was it wind?

No.

A shock of red hair appeared from the main branch as Rosie gently pulled herself onto the roof, with considerably less prowess than Albus had managed. Albus gritted his teeth as she approached him, grinning broadly as if she had just found some valued prize. Nevertheless, he plastered on his second fake smile of the evening, to equal the magnitude of her own.

"What are you doing here?" Rosie asked, carefully placing herself down on the log next to her cousin. "Shift up," she muttered. "Make room for your favourite cousin."

Albus smirked a little bit. "I don't think there's room for three of us up here…"

Rosie scowled. "Be nice," she muttered. "You didn't answer my question. What are you doing up here?"

Albus shrugged. "Hiding. I don't like all those people."

"Of course you do. They're all our family, Al."

"I like them all… just not at the same time. Too many people."

"They're not that bad."

"It was a bit overwhelming."

"Alright…" Rosie trailed off.

There was a brief period where they sat in silence, slowly observing the cold air swirling around before them. It was almost magical. In fact, considering this house, it probably was.

"Are you scared?" Rosie asked.

Albus sighed. "Yeah." The bare honesty in his voice was almost chilling. "I'm scared that something could happen again…"

"Your potion…"

Albus shook his head. "It's not as good as they say it is… I can tell."

"They said you can't possibly transform if you take that." Rosie said, as if reciting from a textbook.

"They lied…" Albus said. "I can tell they were… they. They told the Minister that it was fool proof because they knew I wouldn't last much longer in Azkaban. I mean, it's probably going to be fine. I only transformed three times even without the potion…" he trailed off.

"Three times?" Rosie asked. "I thought it was only two."

The broken look in Albus eye screamed one word: Azkaban.

"I'm sure everything's gonna be fine," Rosie said, recovering from the shock of his last sentence.

"I know…" Albus trailed off. "I just can't help but be scared, y'know… all those people. That would be the end of it… of everything."

"Well, we'll just have to make sure nothing happens, won't we?"

"I can't control it," Albus said, simply. "I've tried, in my dreams. It won't work… every time…"

"You're strong Albus," Rosie said. "When the time comes… I believe in you, okay?"

"When the time comes?"

"If ever something happened. If ever you transformed and did something so utterly unforgivable… If ever your whole world came crashing down because of the smallest mistake. If everyone turned against you and gave up and it seemed like you couldn't go on any longer. I'd be there, Albus. Remember that, I'm going to be that. And I believe in you. I believe in you now, and I'll believe in you then. To stay strong and keep fighting even when it seems like there's nothing in the world worth fighting for anymore. Remember that, Albus. Always remember this."

And remember it, Albus did. He remembered those words until the very day he died. Because one day he'll need them. One day those words will be the single beacon of hope in an eternity of darkness. And when the world comes crashing down and there's not a single prayer left in the rotting world, those words will be there. Those words were eternal.

And as the tears rolled slowly down Rosie's face she prayed. Prayed in the light of recent events; the only person who still prayed. Because she knew, in that single moment. As bad as everything had been, as horrible as life has seemed…

The worst is yet to come.

Epilogue: Albus' Diary: August 31st.

It's surprising how much a person can change in such a short period of time. If I met myself a year ago we wouldn't recognise each other. He was such a small boy; innocent and naïve, yet sickeningly happy in a way I can only long for.

I don't know how much I like the person I've turned into. Sometimes it's easier to live with than others… some days I can walk out of my bedroom feeling almost normal, were it not for the fact that I killed someone.

You'll never know how much that plays on your mind until you've been through it. It's encompassing and persistent – a never ending sinking that threatens everything. You stop sleeping properly, you stop doing anything; it's the only thing you can think of, every day and every night and every single last fathomable second of your miserable existence. It never leaves you; you can never escape something like that. The feeling will live with you forever.

There are so many regrets. I regret being foolish once; foolish enough to follow my father on a fool's errand to a scene that would eventually ruin my life. I regret being a wreck. If I was stronger than things would have been different. I would have been able to keep control of my own body. Maybe then I wouldn't have killed someone.

But you know what I regret most of all?

I regret trusting people. I regret relying on people to keep me out of Azkaban. They'll never know what it was like, being locked in there. It eats away at you. When the happiness disappears all that's left is madness; the sheer insanity of your own mind eating away at itself while you scream and cry for salvation. And it never stops. Nothing can ever make it stop. It's like your head is on fire as it replays every moment of pain you've caused on an endless and insatiable repeat. You can feel your mind fading away as the Dementors slowly suck it out of you.

I still feel it every night in my dreams. I get transported back every night to see everyone be killed over and over again in the most torturous ways. And it's me killing them, every time it's ma and my own never ending insanity burning out. And I scream for it to end. Every night I scream in prayer to some God I know doesn't exist. Make it stop. Make the pain stop.

People say I'm brave for dealing with this. I think they're wrong. If I'd been strong and brave things would have been easier. If I'd been brave I wouldn't have been scared to go to Azkaban. If I'd been strong those people wouldn't have stolen my mind. If I'd been strong I wouldn't have depended on everyone to save me. Because ultimately everyone failed at that, didn't they? Before I went to Azkaban James said I wouldn't last a week. He was wrong.

I lasted half an hour. That was the worst half an hour of my life. Every second I fought the Dementors was another second they adored. They fed off me like meat.

I'll never trust people to save me again.

I'm still alive though, if you can call this a life. I got through it, didn't I? At the cost of everything, I'll admit, but I'm still alive.

And hell was going to freeze over if anyone thought they could do anything about it. Trust me, I've been there. I'd survived through everything; every moment of pain had led up to this. Was living really worth that? Maybe not, but I'm sure as hell not giving up now I've finally got out the other end.

It was going to be hard, living on after everything, but if anyone could manage it I could. Through every transformation I'll have to endure, every injury I'll force upon myself, every nightmare I'll have to relive, I'll carry on fighting alone.

Because if there's one thing life has taught me thus year, it's that nobody will fight for you.

And sometimes it's going to be hard. Sometimes I'm going to want to give up and let life beat me Sometimes all I'll want to do is run into a corner and freeze and cry at the sheer desperation of everything that could possibly happen. But I'll live for the good times.

I'll live for going to Hogwarts; that day I've looked forward to for so long. I'll live for those quite mornings after a transformation, knowing that I'm free from the pain for another six weeks. I'm going to live for that day, once day, when the healers come up with a permanent antidote. That day I can finally do something normal.

I'll live for my first spell; the days I learn something just like everybody else. I'll live for my first job, the first day of the rest of my life.

And there'll be one other day; the most normal of days when I'll stop for a moment and think. I'll think for that finally things have started to get better. All the pain and the waiting was finally worth it, because through it all, through every second was building up to something. Building up to this, the most normal of days. When I realise that I've finally found something to live for. Because that's what it's all about.

My name is Albus Severus Potter, and this is my story.