It all started with avoiding him.  Not looking in his direction.  Hiding my scar.  It was simple, he always seemed preoccupied anyways.  It was like a slow dance, in which one partner was trying to escape but the hold was too tight.

I didn't realize it was dangerous.  I didn't realize that he was supposed to know I was real.  But I couldn't just tell him who I was.  Not after all those years of avoiding questions about my family.  I always said I didn't know my last name.  Nor who my parents were.  And I had asked McGonagal not to announce my full name during first year.

I knew it was wrong, deep inside.  But I didn't realize there would be...  Consequences.  But yet, here I am...  Hiding away from the war.  So as he won't find me (A different he, who I must not name). Not again, I can't let it happen.  So I'm going to tell you the story of how I got here.  But it has to start a few years ago.  In my sixth year...  I'll skip the other years for you because they're dreadfully boring on my side of the story.  I'm sure you've heard my brothers side though.  If not, you should probably catch up. 

Anyways... Here goes nothing.  I hope that one day I will be saved from this horrible fate I have come to reach.  If not,  I at least hope you find humor in my pain.  And realize that I am, in fact, not even supposed to be able to write this story for you.  Nonetheless, I think that since I can, I may as well.  Because somebody might as well hear this dreadful tale.