Lay Me To Sleep
Awesome image by .kapowi at TDA!
I never thought that one man's life could make a difference growing up. Well, I never thought that an average man's life could make a difference. Growing up I never knew that I could make a difference. I was the golden child, surely, but when I was gone no one past my grandchildren were going to remember me. Only true 'heroes', men beyond the average, would be remembered. My parents always taught me using the same example every time. Lord Voldemort. he would make a difference, save the world, men like me would just follow along and watch it happen, praying for the day of total takeover. When I joined the Death Eaters, I wasn't changing anything. I wasn't becoming someone who could change anything. I was just moving up the social ladder, nothing more, nothing less. I was never going to change anything, and for a while I accepted it, even liked it.
This went on for years, my alliance with the Death Eaters. However, there were whispers of a resistance group called the Order of the Phoenix. And whispers that my brother was a member arose. He had been brought up the same way I had, he had learned that we weren't going to make a difference. Yet he broke that and tried to make a difference. My brother made a difference in the world, and when he was gone people would remember him. And maybe people would remember Peter Pettigrew, the man that betrayed all his friends in order for the Dark Lord to rise. Maybe they would even remember the Potters, Lupin, Malfoy, everyone else involved. But not me, I was just average. I could still remember the moment I realized that no one would remember me.
Peter Pettigrew had just joined our ranks when I ran into my brother in the streets. I ducked my head and tried to walk around him, but he called out my name anyways. Looking at him he gave me a nod, as if he was unsure what to say to me. And I felt the same unsureness as I stood there. There was so much I could say, I could tell him that one of his best friends had betrayed him, I could whisper the words that could save him. But I said nothing and brushed past him. It was the last time I ever saw my brother, and I said nothing. Shut out the words that could have saved someone I cared about.
The truth was, I was too afraid to fight back. Too afraid to make a difference. I was too afraid to do anything. And as I layed in bed at night I rolled around unable to sleep, I knew that I was apart of a movement that was meant to destroy people. My head ached, and my back hurt. My eyes stung and my hands shook. I was falling apart and there was nothing I could do about. When I saw murders, I merely closed my eyes and turned my head. I wasn't here to make a difference, I was just here to watch.
My life was spiraling downwards right in front of me. I was eighteen and this was all that my life was going to amount to. I had nothing else left. My only friend was a house elf, my only light the one guided by the Dark Lord. I had nothing left. Which when the Dark Lord requested a house elf, I offered Kreacher. Maybe without anything left to live for, my heart would just give out and go. I would be free once and for all. From everything. Moments before Kreacher left for his mission I realized how alone I would really be. He was my only friend, and without him I would truly have nothing. I commanded him to come back. He had to follow orders.
That night, there was a storm brewing overhead. The rain crashed down as the thunder rumbled. Lightening flashed throughout the sky, sending terror into my body. Each time a new crack happened in the sky, I withered in my bed. Cold sweat was dripping down me as my nightmares showed everything that Lord Voldemort and shown me since I was sixteen. I couldn't live this life anymore, and I pitted anyone who was stuck living it after me. Because there would always be that little boy whose parents told him he couldn't make a difference in the world somewhere.
"Kreacher!" I screamed as the door flung open in the one room apartment I was staying at. There, stood my house elf dripping wet. My friend, Kreacher. And what he told me made my mind run wild with hate. Lord Voldemort left the only thing I cared about to die. He left Kreacher there, after Kreacher did him a favor, and he just left him. This was enough for me to know that I was done. I always knew that I couldn't make a difference. But that didn't mean that I couldn't try.
"Kreacher, come on." I whispered as I rowed the boat, glancing at my best friend. He had been here before and was directing me. I wasn't sure where to go or what to do, but I had faith in myself for the first time in two years. That I could do something on my own. Kreacher told me that there was a potion there that he would drink. Apparently it was extremely painful and horrible. "I'll do it." I said, picking it up. Kreacher started to argue and I looked at him. "No, Kreacher, this is my task. My life, for once I'm taking control of it. Just make sure I drink it all." With that I placed it to my lips and sipped. It was painful. It was more than painful, in fact. It was the worst thing that I had ever gone through, including all the times that Lord Voldemort had tortured me. I moaned halfway through, I couldn't finish. The pain was unbearable and I was sure that I wasn't going to make it. I had tried to change things, make a difference, but clearly I couldn't. I could feel myself slipping and slipping.
"Kreacher." I croaked out, wheezing as I finished the last drop and let the glass roll out of my hands. "You have to..." I let out a shaken breath, sounding like I had only a few left. "Destroy the necklace...no matter...what...It's an...order." With that I reached forward with all the energy I had and opened the box, grabbing the necklace from inside it and shoving it to the house elf behind me. I stuck the note and the fake necklace that I had had Kreacher pick out into the box. My initials on the bottom. R.A.B. Regulus Arcturus Black. With that I prepared to get back in the boat. However something grabbed my leg, pulling me down. "Go, Kreacher." Was the last thing I said as the elf screamed my name. And I continued to be pulled deeper and deeper down, unsure of what lied down there.
What I did know, however, is that one man's life can make a difference. I took the effort to move forward and make a difference. I had killed one part of Voldemort, and I had taken away a piece of him he would never get back. And while this may not have meant anything and while it may not have changed anything, it was a start. It made me feel as if my life made a difference. My parents were wrong, Lord Voldemort was wrong, hell, even Sirius was wrong. I had made a difference, and it was something worth dying for.