The Suicide Letters

Dear Dumbledore

            I fear I must depart. I have nothing to offer you any more. I felt that I could bring you good repute, I felt that I could help you in this war, but now there is nothing left for me. I have no reason to live any more, and I must either live with nothing but the dark confines of my dungeon- both the psychological and the real- or waste away. I fear that I am wasting. Both my life and yours. I know that you have never approved of my motivations, but this will remove one more obstacle from your path.

            I am going to the meeting tonight. I hope to be able to weaken the dark one sufficiently so that he may be killed. I hope that your precious potter boy is up to the task.



            I don't know how to say this. I've never had problems with articulating myself before. I guess that the death of Professor Snape has really shaken me up. I have realised that nobody is invincible. I want you to know that I did love you- for a little while- but I have nothing for you anymore. This is not a letter to break up with you. This is a goodbye letter. I just don't want to die at the hands of those worms with their black hoods and sparking wands. Maybe one day you will understand.



          I wish that I could tell you what I've been going through lately. Since Hermione was discovered in the toilets, I've never been able to get this feeling out of the back of my mind. Ron said he got a letter, a short note from her. It said that she didn't want to die at the hands of the Death Eaters. I don't blame her. I know that there's nothing I can do to help, but I do want to do this for you. I will remove myself from the equation. I don't want to die at the hands of the Death Eaters, but for different reasons. I don't want your love for me to interfere with your task. I love you, I always will. Cherish my sacrifice forever.



            I know that you will be mightily disappointed with me, but I have made my decision. There is nothing in this that I have taken lightly.  I know that you hoped for me to follow in your footsteps, but there are some things that I just will not do. Willingly give myself to that snake is one of those things. If he had set me to do five murders or to give secret intelligence, I could do that. But if he wants me for himself, I'm just not willing to do that. I'm sorry father. I wish that I could make you proud, but I will never be able to live with myself. I can't now. Goodbye father.



          Without you, there is nothing. I am nothing without you. I can't live my life- I don't know who I am without you. I wish that you had thought of me before you decided, but you have made your decision. I will never be able to get the sight of your twisted form lying at the bottom of the dorm-room stairs from my mind. I wish that you had been taken away before I arrived. I wish that I didn't have to relive the experience time and time again. I know that you have escaped from your father, and I'm glad for you.

          But I sorrow for me. I will be with you soon.



            I'm so alone. I wish that Hermione were still here. She was my bright and beautiful star. I am so lost. I wish that I could express myself fully, but there just aren't words. My heart is broken, as much by her death as by her profession of not loving me. I don't think I will ever recover. I hope that you will forgive me for giving in to the sorrow that floods into me. There is just nothing that I can do, except this. I'm sorry Harry.



     I seem to have encountered some problems in preparing for the upcoming battle that will undoubtedly ensue between myself and Voldemort. My friends- and enemies- are dropping like flies, and I find that I have no support. Hermione slit her wrists in the prefect's bathroom; Ginny is currently in the Hospital wing with similar injuries. Draco threw himself down the stairs, Pansy fell on her sword- literally- and Ron drowned himself in the lake, was found this morning. I just don't know where to turn. I'm all alone, and find I have no one else to talk to. I don't think I can do this any more- not that I ever had that many illusions anyway. I just can't do this anymore.


Cornelius Fudge

          I must say that I am most upset that I have been getting such bad press. The Daily Prophet is splattering my name with blood as well as mud. I find that it is more than a little disturbing to find that my students are killing themselves, but I must admit that it is a very appealing notion. I may even find myself swallowed into the enlightening abyss soon. It would be better than dying at the hands of the Death Eaters.