First, to Ronald Bilius Weasley. I leave my Deluminator, a device of my own making in the hope that, when things seem most dark, it will show him the light.
To Hermione Jean Granger. I leave my copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard in the hope that she find it entertaining and instructive.
To Harry James Potter. I leave the Snitch he caught in his first Quidditch match at Hogwarts as a reminder of the rewards of perseverance and skill.
I feel like I owe him something, and I hate owing people. Maybe if I had thanked him at some point, I’d be feeling less conflicted now. I thought about it a couple of times, but the opportunity never seemed to present itself. And now it never will. Because we’re going to be thrown into an arena to fight to the death. Exactly how am I supposed to work in a thank-you in there? Somehow it just won’t seem sincere if I’m trying to slit his throat.
Why are we different?
What if we were sent here for a reason?