We have been friends for years. We were even best friends. We aren’t friends anymore. Do you know why we aren’t friends anymore? Do you? It’s because he is dead. Vincent Crabbe is dead.

All I remember on that May night is that we were looking for a diadem. I didn’t even know what a diadem was until that night.

The Dark Lord asked us to go to the Room of Hidden Things to wait for the Potter boy to come. None of us knew why he would be there, but we weren’t going to disobey the Dark Lord.

We snuck back into the castle and waited in that room. It was my first time in the Room of Hidden Things. Malfoy never let us in there in case we saw what he was working on. Instead, Vincent and I waited outside and guarded the entrance.

The inside of the room was cluttered; it was a surprise that he found his project every time. It was a surprise that he didn’t get lost.

We waited in there for Harry to come. We stationed ourselves near the diadem, so that anyone that came in wouldn’t be able to see us. After a while, he finally came, but he brought his friends too. They split up to look for the diadem, but it was Harry who found it. Before he could grab it and leave, Malfoy went to stop him. Being the selfish bastard that he is, he made us walk in front of him to shield him. He stopped what he was doing and looked at us.

All hell broke loose and Vincent tried to kill him. Draco stopped him and Vincent said the truest thing that has ever come out of his mouth. “I don’t take your orders no more, Draco. You an’ your dad are finished.” How true was that? Too bad that isn’t what happened.

The fighting continued and the next thing I knew, I was hit with a Stunning Spell. I don’t know how I made it out alive, but I did.

They told me stories about what happened and that’s the closest thing I have to the truth. They said that Vincent used Fiendfyre. It was something that the Carrows taught us, but he didn’t know the counter curse. If he would have paid attention in class, he would be alive right now. He got lost inside the fire and no one could save him.

I’m lucky to be alive. I’m lucky that the Gryffindors saved my unconscious life. Why couldn’t they be brave and save him too? They just had to let him die as he flew away.

I’m mad at him for dying. If he stayed just awhile longer, I could have told him how I felt about him. But no, he just had to pull that stupid stunt and get himself killed. I never got the chance to tell him that I love him. Now, he will never know that someone has cared for him.

I don’t even know if he liked me back, but that didn’t stop me from caring. I don’t think anyone knows my true feelings regarding Vincent Crabbe, and they probably never will. No one really cared that he died, he was just another number added to the death count. Sure, some people were sad for a maximum of five minutes, like Malfoy, but no one was devastated. I, on the other hand, was. The person that I had loved died. I wasn’t even able to prevent it.

The one thing that I regret is that I couldn’t see him go. I couldn’t send him off the right way. There was no body found in the Room of Requirement; there was nothing found in the Room of Requirement. Everything was all ash, or so they told me.

When I was serving my time in Azkaban, the only thing that kept me sane was the thought that I could have it worse. I could be dead. Like Vincent. I had to stay strong so I wouldn’t ruin my life. Since he was dead, I needed to do the living for the both of us. I couldn’t do that if I was insane.

We were both into what the Dark Lord was about, but not so much anymore. I’m not the boy I used to be. Most pure-bloods that were with the Dark Lord are still in Azkaban, but some of them got out free. They are still prejudiced against people who they think are worse than them. I am not a Muggle lover, but I don’t want to kill them either.

Vincent was truly like his father. He wanted all of them gone. He would’ve done anything for that. He would’ve killed him with his own bare hands if he had the chance.

That’s how we were different. Torture, yes. Murder, no. I believed that we had to put them in their place, but I wasn’t ready to kill them. I believed in slavery; they could do all of the jobs that we pure-bloods don’t want to do. But Crabbe, he wanted them gone for good.

Now there are more Muggle-borns than ever before. Everywhere you go you see a Muggle-born. Pure-bloods are a dying breed, but I get by. I get by.