Hi, hi! Ironclad Wyvernfire here again.

Reyts: We know moron.

Hey! I am not a moron.

Reyts: DENIAL!

*angry huff* Whatever. Well here's my second story. Oh, and for those who read Dragons of Fire and Ice, I am going to make a sequel, I just do not have ANY inspiration at the moment. I'm trying to work on it though.

Reyts: I do hope you do. It was a very good start and I want to know more.

I do not own this, I do not make any profit from this, and so you may not sue me.

Harry sat quietly within the Chamber of Secrets, leaning against the great form of the basilisk and writing a simple letter. Another sealed letter levitated thoughtlessly beside him to prevent it from getting wet, and Hedwig rested on the serpent's spine, golden eyes sad. Silence pervaded the room.

Dear Ron, Hermine, Neville, Luna, and Dumbledore,

And before you go off about not calling Dumbledore Professor, I really don't think he deserves the title, and besides, soon I won't be able to talk to any of you. So save judgment for after you have read the letter.

Dumbledore. I'm tired of the machinations and control; I'm tired of the lies and secrets. With the help of my abusive relatives you kept me in the dark for eleven years, and you didn't give a damn. You never understood the prophecy, hell; you never even knew the prophecy. So no, I'm not going to listen to you. In fact I'm not even going to be around to listen to you. You see, I'm going to be, how to put it, resting, you could say. Eternally. Have fun trying to find my corpse.

Neville, Luna. There are books on herbology and some of the more obscure magical creatures in my trunk I would like for you to obtain. I'm sorry I will no longer be around to be as close a friend as I have been. Please don't take it to hard. And Luna, there's something special for you in by trunk also, take care of it would you.

Ron. No, you're not getting my Nimbus or my father's cloak. You were a right greedy bastard, playing at the role of my friend under Dumbledore's order so you could get my money. I hope you enjoy being poor, because that's what you are now. Everything you bought with the money you stole has been repossessed, and paid for with your own, true, money, what little you have. You will also be incarcerated for theft of property. Tell the twins I'm sorry I had to leave.

Hermine. Did you know that exceedingly rare books, such as the ones I had within my vault, are easily tracked. And once found easily removed. I do hope you like living without your precious knowledge. Just try buying any more books at any wizarding shop, I dare you.

Have fun everyone, trying to survive the war without your constant scapegoat. I do pray you die very gruesome deaths. Oh, and Neville, Luna, there's a small house some where within the borders of Romania. My present to you, Luna, should help you find it. I do pray you move there as quickly as humanly possible.

On that note, have fun!

Nex ut lux lucis!

Harry, The-Boy-Who-Lived, The Chosen One, Gryffindor's Golden Boy.

Nex ut lux lucis!

There will be more!

Nex ut lux lucis roughly translates to death to the light.