My name is Harry Potter.
The year is 2007.
I have not spoken to a human being in six years, three months, and twenty three days.
I am writing this letter in hopes that one day someone will read it and know what has become of the Wizarding World. It's not only the Wizarding World though. I haven't seen anyone. Not a single person.
Exactly six years, three months, and twenty three days ago something happened. On that Day, I lost everything. I lost my wife, my friends, my life. I don't know what has become of them. I hope that they have joined the likes of my parents but I am being hopeful. Wishful thinking.
Why am I being hopeful you may ask? Because the people I knew did not die. They disappeared. After blacking out, I woke to find myself alone in the Weasley backyard. At first, I thought that the few remaining Death Eaters had kidnapped them but I was wrong.
I eventually came to the knowledge that I was the only person alive. I tried to make it all a dream. I tried to wake from my nightmare but that hope was quickly lost. I still have scars to bear from that fateful night where I tried to end it. Unfortunately, I was not strong enough. My will to live overrode my fear.
I tried to escape. Unfortunately I knew not where to go. Every time I tried to escape this dreadful island I would get lost in a never ending mist. At first I just launched myself off the cliffs with my broom hoping to hit France maybe. Upon realizing that I knew not where to go, I returned.
I tried using my wand to Point me. Bless Hermione, she always knew what to do. I bet if she was here, she would have figured this out in less than a year. Maybe.
I tried going North. But I just flew on and on, the mist taunting me. Once or twice I thought I heard a voice but I was fooled. There was no one there and as soon as I turned around I landed right back where I started.
I write all of my exploits so hopefully you can understand why am I here. I tried to escape. I tried so hard. But this is no fairy tale. I did not wake up and find my best friends smiling down at me. I did not wake up and see Dumbledore at King's Cross. This time, I did not wake up and save the world.
I learned a lot about myself over this time. But I learned even more about this world that I lived in. When I first crossed Hogwarts grounds into the Forbidden Forest nearly 16 years ago, I was afraid. Not now. There is nothing to fear in that forest. There are no centaurs. There are no spiders. There's…nothing.
All the papers were there though. Every single book in Hogwarts library remained peacefully intact. I often wondered how many books Hermione had read in her time hear. Once or twice I thought I heard Ron's hearty laugh or Ginny's playful giggle. Once or twice I even thought I saw that long mane of brown hair but I was wrong.
At first I thought I was going crazy. But I wasn't. I was perfectly sane. But it kept taunting me, goading me into false hope. I clung onto that false hope; maybe they would all come back one day. Maybe Ron would suddenly clap me in the back and ask me, "Where were you mate?"
Deep down inside, I knew it was not going to happen. No one was here. Nothing was here.
So I read. Oh, boy would Hermione be proud of me. I must have read almost every single book in the Hogwarts library. Who knew that the Goblin Rebellions of 1054 would have been so fascinating? Who knew that Voldemort and I were distantly related?
But I did not just stay in Hogwarts. By this time I must have read almost every single file of every single person in the Wizarding community. I knew why Seamus' Mom was so scared. I knew how Amos Diggory killed himself shortly after his son's death. I knew why my parents didn't trust Remus on that fateful night. You don't want to see what I know. I wish I hadn't read all those files but I couldn't help myself. I devoured myself in the Ministry's files. I lived vicariously through those files. It kept me sane, reading about those people.
But there's no more. Oh boy, Hermione would be proud of me. Proud of all the reading I did. Ron would be proud of me too. Who knew that the Cannons were champions centuries ago? I bet that would have given him a laugh. I would give anything to hear their laughs. But I knew I wasn't going to hear them. Not since the Day.
I also have other reasons for writing this letter. I write this because it's the last time you will ever hear from Harry Potter.
Tonight, I will die and I plan to stay dead.
Signed,
Harry James Potter