dear harry,
if you are reading this, i assume that i have made my untimely passing.
ever since i was forever changed, i longed for my death. i eagerly waited by the door, ready for my turn.
over the course of the next few years, i was patient, counting the days when the grim reaper would shake my hand and claim me as his own. yet the day never came and instead of becoming one with death, i became its puppet.
one that kills. one that hurts.
i wished for death and yet i could only create it. born from the pits of fiery chaos, i produced just that. how could i long for something so much, but just when it was in my grasp, it would escape.
instead death became a symbol of my desires and my worst fears. how ever much i wanted it to befall me, i never wanted it to linger around anyone else.
but death did not listen to my pleas, my cries, as everyone around me succumbed to the forbidden fruit. my loved ones were stripped away from me, leaving me with nothing but a paper and pen.
others forgot the tragedy, but i stayed there, right where death left me.
instead i wrote and i wrote and i wrote. my bitterness of betrayal stinging the paper like a cobra's kiss and my longing for a past i could not reach fueling my own deluded nightmares.
for one moment it felt like everything could come back to me. where the moon was reunited with the stars. the sky was no longer just darkness, aglow with dancing sparkles smiling from above.
but as sunrise came, we were flushed out of the sky and he never returned, leaving me hanging every single day.
haunted by memories, i shrouded myself in darkness, continuing my juvenile wish. and in the end of the tale, i got what i wanted. death consumed me and i was to be reunited with my star.
do not make this into a merciful death. it is not that.
it is the work of grueling years of torture, everything i love being taken from me. being beaten, battered, and bruised until the brink of death, but never actually falling off the edge of the cliff.
this has been a long time coming.
my book is closed, epilogue written and signed, but yours is only beginning.
the chosen one isn't the title of your book, it isn't your only role or what defines you. it is only a mere chapter in your story.
you are harry james potter.
do not forget him.
as i write this, i want to keep my pen moving forever, to keep our strings of life uncut.
goodbye is a difficult concept, one that i haven't been able to master even after all the loss i've experienced. i don't want to say goodbye, it feels very final, like i will never see you again. we both know that is not true.
i'll tell your father all about who his son became, and how in my lowest time, you brought me back to life. and you'll glance up at the sky and see me looking down at you, watching over you from above.
so it's never very final.
so instead i say, see you soon.
forever your uncle moony
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hey guys, this was the last chapter clearly because well.....they r both dead. epilogue and thank you note coming soon!