Dear Harry~
I'm to teach you about insanity in this letter. This is my story.
"Broderick..."
I heard an ethereal, almost unearthly voice in my ears, and vaguely recognized its owner.
But it can't be...
Slowly I opened my eyes. I was lying on a surface, a fascinatingly simple surface that was almost too difficult to explain. Looking above me, I recognized the face belonging to the voice.
"Dad!" I exclaimed, and struggled to stand; I had not seen my father since his death when I was only sixteen. It was exactly how I had always remembered him, but something was different. There was a pale glow about him, he emitted it like light; it was almost as though he was made of a different substance than I myself was.
Slowly, reason caught up with my senses, and I blurted a question as soon as it came to my mind.
"I'm dead, then, aren't I?"
My father chuckled, an understanding, pleasurable chuckle. It made me think he might know something I didn't.
"Perhaps... perhaps not." he told me omnisciently.
"You mean I get a choice? It's not like there's much to do here, though." I gestured to my surroundings, which were covered in a thick, dense fog.
"This is the sort of place neither of us will ever know much about. I think, however, that if you were to stay, the place we are in may become much more than it is. However, if you were to go back..." his voice trailed away delicately, as though he was trying to subtly tell me that going was the proper choice.
"What happens if I go back?"
"You will not be the same." he warned me. "You will be different. But I believe that going back may well help in the fight against Lord Voldemort."
"Why him? Why now? Has he taken over?"
My father sighed. "My son, let me explain. Shortly before Voldemort rose to power again, you were set upon by several of his followers. They put you under the Imperious Curse for a few weeks, and Voldemort tortured the whereabouts of the prophecy regarding himself out of you. Armed with the information, Voldemort sent you to the Department of Mysteries to retrieve the prophecy."
"But I could not have touched it! I am not the person it is referring to!" I protested.
My father held up a hand to stop me. "I am aware. However, Voldemort did not know this. So, he sent you to the Department of Mysteries and made you take the prophecy from its shelves."
"Whomever touches a prophecy that is not referring to him will die or suffer insanity! Wait..." Comprehension dawned on me.
That was my choice; death or insanity.
In the end, I decided to go back. I knew what it would cost, I was certain that these would be my last conscious thoughts before death. People ask, why did I choose to go back knowing I was better off dead?
To this day, I'm really not sure. But I guess there was some purpose for it, because if there was not, I never would have found myself in that strange room. I never would've gotten the choice.
Harry, remember that everything happens for a reason. Even if you end up insane, know that it is for the good of others that it happens.
~Broderick
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Pretty different than you were expecting I hope! I really tried hard with this one, hope y'all like it(: