Justice

Justice is one of the four cardinal qualities of God, you know. Humans were made in God's image, or so the Christians say. If that were the case, justice would be a cardinal quality of Man.

There is no God.

Today I sit in Azkaban, awaiting execution.

It was worth it. Voldemort is dead. Truly dead. Forever.

I killed him. Not with the Avada Kedavra, he'd survive that. With a darker spell, far more evil. I didn't destroy his body, I destroyed his soul. His body sits in St. Mungo's, staring blankly. Me. I avenged my parents.

Who says Mudbloods inferior?

My parents were the second set of Muggles to be killed in the Second Voldemort Wars. I was safe at Hogwarts, and they died. They died because I was friends with Harry Potter. I was excused from class to go to the funeral. I made a promise on their graves that I would rid the world of the evil that took their lives. From that day forward everything I did was fueled toward one purpose.

I got my chance my seventh year. The Wars were at their worst, hundreds dying every day. No one could reach Voldemort, and Voldemort couldn't reach Harry. Dumbledore had died long ago, in our fifth year. I heard that Voldemort would be attacking Hogwarts that evening. I also knew that Voldemort had been leading all of his previous battles via a simalcrum, like a Muggle hologram. I also knew where Voldemort truly lived.

I told no one.

In my fifth and sixth years I had read everything on divining, enchanted sight, and killing I could get my hands on, legitimately or not. Harry's Invisibility Cloak proved quite useful... even though he never gave it to me once. I used a combination of a crystal ball and astral projection to find where Voldemort set up base. Then I set out with wand in hand.

Killing the guards was easy, so easy. I had cloaked myself in night, literally. It was a spell even Dumbledore had had difficulty with, but I had mastered it knowing that the Nightshield spell was the only way I could get in. The guards neither saw nor heard me swoop out of the forest and transfigure them to stone. Their cold, stone bodies fell to the grass and I stepped over them. No tears, no feeling. My parents' deaths had taken all the emotion I'd ever had.

I killed every guard I came across, even Draco. The disadvantage of the simalcrum is that your true body is left completely vulnerable. Voldemort never heard me enter, never noticed me massacre his followers.

Stone men, stone chess. I wonder if he remembered that when I woke him from his magic dreaming.

"You! What are you doing here?!" Voldemort demanded. He was pale and shaking, exhausted by the battle at Hogwarts and by the sudden recalling to his own body.

"What does it look like?" I said, dropping the nightshield. "How many people have you killed?" Voldemort's face changed, became smooth and charming. He mistook the coldness in my eyes for the coldness in his. He thought I wanted power.

"Never enough."

"How much power do you hold?"

"The same. You're Harry Potter's Secret Keeper, aren't you? You know where he is." Voldemort asked. I saw the bloodlust in his eyes. Harry's power was all that kept him in check, all that kept him from being the god he so desired to be. I nodded. "And what would it cost me to possess the secret as well?"

"That you allow me to fulfill the vow I swore to my parents." I said. I raised my wand, and spoke the words. With echoing screams, Voldemort's soul shattered. He died. Everything he ever was and ever felt died then, too. Poof - no more Dark Lord.

I'll never forget the sound of his screams. They bring a smile to my face still.

They say that good always wins, that justice never fails. They are wrong. Justice is decided by a flip of the coin. Heads, the criminal or innocent goes free. Tails... and the defendant dies.

I always liked that comic.