Oh no, I didn't really die. Physically, I didn't. But in all other aspects, I lost every part of me. My friends, my family, and everything else that ever mattered - they're all gone. Death would be preferable to this hell which I go through every day.
The preperations for the second war began half-way through my fifth year. Since Voldemort's return in my third year, the Order of the Phoenix had been planning ahead, making sure they were ready in case the time came when they had to begin recruiting for a second war. Unfortunately, it came sooner than they expected.
My parents pulled me out of school so I could work in the Order with them when I was only 15 years old. That's when I knew how terribly wrong things were going. They'd always wanted me to focus on my education, and not worry about what went on in their area of business. They told me that I was too young to have to think about such things, and I was better off just worrying about school. What could a 15 year old do amongst a group of experienced witches and wizards anyway? So when they told me that I had to leave Hogwarts to help them...I knew that things were becoming serious.
All of my family was in the Order. Not just my brothers, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, and Ron, but my closest friends too. All of us joined together to fight the growing threat.
Ron...I was closer to him than anyone else in my family. Out of all my older brothers, he was the youngest - only a year older than me. He used to tease me all the time, and he was so protective of me. If any boy tried to come near me, he would threaten them with hexes and curses. He was like my second father, someone I could run crying to if a Slytherin threw mud at me. I used to find it annoying that he watched over me constantly, but now I miss it more than anything. Oh, how much I would give just to be protected again.
It was through Ron that I met Hermione Granger. She was the closest thing to a sister I ever had. Growing up in a family of all boys, I never got to giggle over the opposite sex, or talk until the early morning about hairstyles. But Hermione gave me that...not only was she my best friend, she was my replacement for an older sister. She was so brilliant, so clever. Everyone knew about her - Hermione, the smartest witch in Hogwarts. She had so much to offer the world, and she never got the chance to.
And then there was Harry Potter, Ron and Hermione's best friend. The Boy Who Lived. His parents died to save him, and he followed in their footsteps - he died to save the world. If it wasn't for him, there would be no one. It would just be darkness. It's because of him that I'm even here today. He sacrificed everything for the good of those around him. He was so brave...the word 'hero' can't even begin to describe him. Harry...it hurts me to write his name. My heart breaks every time I remember his face and see him smiling at me in my mind. Out of everyone I ever knew, I will always remember Harry.
There was Remus Lupin. Everyone has heard about the famous Marauders. Dear Remus was the only one who survived long enough to see the second war play out. His three closest friends, the three people who'd accepted him for the werewolf he was, all died before they reached the age of 40. After Sirius died, Remus took Harry into his care. I know for a fact that he loved Harry like a son. I wish more than anything that I could have spared him the torture of seeing his friends die before him a second time...I don't think I would have survived what he went through. For that, I hold his memory with utmost respect.
Everyone in the Order constantly worked. We never rested, never ate, never stopped. It was barely something worth being called a job - it was a lifestyle. I can't even name everyone in the Order; there were too many people. I just know that I was close to many of them, and none of them survived. No one but me.
Do you understand now why each day I live, I die a little more?
As the war approached, we worked harder. In those days before the first attack, we barely even saw each other - everyone was too busy spying on the other side, or those we believed to be on the other side. The plans we'd made so long ago became forgotten as everyone struggled to do what they believed was right. Alliances began to switch, unbeknownst to friends and family. The power of the dark side overcame many on our side, while the glory of the good side drew in Voldemort's followers.
One of those who became good was Draco Malfoy. Of everyone I ever knew in Hogwarts, he is the only one who survived. Back during our school days, he was cruel to me because of my family heritage; however, when he realized what was happening, he quickly switched over to our side. Oh Draco. He was so courageous to do such a thing. The mark had already been burned onto his arm, and yet he went against its power. He could have died, but he did it because he realized he would rather lose his life than waste it.
I remember in my fourth year at Hogwarts, my mother wouldn't even let Sirius tell Harry one of the Order's plans. Now Harry was leading a large group of the strongest and most able witches and wizards. Oh, how the times had changed. I knew that the war was going to start soon the day I saw Harry retreat into a small room in the attic alone. I stood outside the door, trying to listen to what he was doing. I peered through the keyhole, and what I saw chilled my bones.
Harry stood within that room by himself, practicing the Cruciatus curse. One of the three unforgiveable curses; a spell that should never have even been uttered, much less performed, by a sixteen year old wizard. He held a jar of spiders in his hand, and his brow was furrowed in concentration as he attempted to inflict pain beyond anything on one of the tiny creatures. And that wasn't even the worst of it - when he finally succeeded, I saw to my horror a smile of satisfaction creep onto his face. That's when I knew that what was to come would be brutal beyond my wildest imaginings. As I watched, wide-eyed, he began trying to perfect the Imperius curse.
I didn't even stay to watch him move onto the killing curse.
Everyone became wary and paranoid of strangers, but even worse, of their friends. Trusting your life in someone's hands became your death wish, and family members grew distant. Yet the bonds that were falling apart outside became stronger within my family. Somehow, my father still found the time to tell us stories about the activities he had engaged in that day - after all, when the world around you is crumbling, two of the only things you can hold onto are your family and its traditions.
And then that all came crashing down. Percy betrayed us. The Ministry was on our side, but he betrayed us. He let Lucius Malfoy, whom he had become friends with through Ministry ties, take on his form. Dumbledore was so distracted by everything that was happening that he believed the imposter to be the real Percy and gave him information about the Order's whereabouts and how to find us. It was like stealing candy from a baby. The information was immediately transferred to Voldemort and at 6:32 PM that very day, the Dark Lord and his death eaters attacked us at 12 Grimmauld place.
That was the day the war started.