He didn’t know why he had chosen Canada. Perhaps it was the rugged landscape and the isolation from others, or maybe it was the simple fact that the cold winters mirrored his heart. Life had never been easy for him, though he should have been happy to simply be alive. If it hadn’t been for Fawkes... No, he would not think that way. Caught up in the past though he was, this man would not focus on that night, on what could have been. Life hadn’t ended for him that night, oh no, that night was simply the night that everything had changed. He had been found innocent. He was now free from the law, free of his duties, free of the places where it all took place, but he was not free from himself, from his past, from his inability to move on. Though lost in his memories and wanting nothing more than to rid himself of the world that had caused him so much grief, he found that he was unable to give up the magical world and all that it had to offer. He continued on in the magical world, hiding on the outskirts of a small town, thankful for the fact that the terror of his country had never reached here, thankful that no one here knew his name and what went with it.

Today was a day similar to the others, yet different. Today, as always, he was thinking of the past, lost in the memories of what had been the hardest, yet most fulfilling years of his life. Today, however, instead of mindlessly wandering his house and the streets, he chose to take a drive down the country roads, having just passed his driving test the week before. He started his car and immediately tuned the radio to the country station. He had discovered country music soon after moving to Canada, and had instantly taken a liking to it. He found that listening to the depressing stories of others had a calming effect on him in such a way that he hadn’t felt for many years, from the time that he’d had her.

His life had been miserable until he had met her. Abused by his father and having to endure the endless fighting of his parents, he had found his comfort behind the hedges in the park, watching the playing children. It was there that he had first seen her, the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, showing off for her sister, doing the most unnatural things. From then, he had known. He’d known exactly what she was, and had planned for weeks about how to break the news to her. It had to be perfect, for that moment would determine how she saw him forever. It would be his only chance to appear different than what his name and appearance made him seem. But the moment had not gone well. She had not reacted as he had imagined. She had stalked off, hating him for what he had said. Curiosity, however, must have taken her over, and one of the greatest moments of his young life had been the moment in which she had approached him, for that moment had been the beginning of something amazing, something that he would treasure for the rest of his life, something that would drive him to do all that he did. From that moment on, they had become the best of friends.

The rest of the summer had been the start of the happiest years of his life. For once, he’d had a friend, someone he could trust, someone to keep him company. This happiness, however, hadn’t lasted long. His best friend had been sorted into Gryffindor at her arrival at Hogwarts, while he had been sorted to Slytherin. Though this had not been problematic at the time, it had soon caused much strife in their relationship. He did not know how or when, but before he’d known it, he had fallen in love with his best friend, yet slowly, she had begun to distance herself from him, claiming that he was becoming someone else. He had made other friends at Hogwarts, friends that his best friend disapproved of, friends who had been striving to become Death Eaters.

Then Fifth Year had brought out the worst of him. Perhaps it had been the stress of his OWLS or the constant bullying that had brought him to it, or perhaps it was the fact that he couldn’t bring himself to tell her he loved her, as he had never seen love work. To him, love only brought pain, yet that love, though it was pain, would be the one thing that drove him to do what he did.

Nevertheless, he had cracked, and unfortunately, it had been directed at her. Until that time, he had never truly felt regret before. There was more to come, but at that time, he had been unable to imagine anything beyond her, beyond this regret. All that had mattered was that he make it right. He had waited for her, and when she had come, he had apologized more sincerely than he had ever apologized before. He had felt his heart break when he had hurt her, but this apology had not made his heart heal. Truth be told, his heart never had healed from that moment, for he had hurt her, and in return, he had hurt himself. It had been the greatest pain he had ever felt.

She hadn’t accepted his apology, and from then on, their relationship had been shaky, and so had been his heart. It would mend a little in the moments when all had felt right again, but then the fragile scabs would break every time they had slipped, every time something had gone wrong.

More time had passed, and if their relationship had been fragile during their sixth year, it was almost dead by the seventh, when she had begun seeing one of his worst enemies. Within a few years after their graduation, they had no longer been on speaking terms, having chosen their separate ways. He had become a Death Eater, she was part of the Order, defying the Dark Lord three times. Reconciliation had been nowhere in sight. From then on, life had become much harder. He had been still completely in love with his friend but completely in the Dark Lord’s service.

He had been perhaps his most faithful servant. Not only was he resourceful, he could also obtain any information that the Dark Lord might need. That night had been no different. He had been sure that that prophecy would ensure the Dark Lord’s power, and he had wanted to be the one to hand it to him, he had wanted to be honoured above all others.


He hadn’t known that it had meant her. If he had, he wouldn’t have told the Dark Lord what he had discovered. He had felt a desperate need to save her, as he could not be sure that the Dark Lord would spare her, so he had gone to the only person who could help, the only person the Dark Lord had ever feared. He would protect her, but in exchange, he’d become one of the most useful people that the Order had ever seen. He had become a spy among the Death Eaters, spilling secrets to the Order, while leaking incomplete Order plans to the Dark Lord in order to keep his loyalties hidden. He had stayed under the close eye of the one whom he had hoped would keep her safe, posing as a teacher, educating the young ones while being a double agent.

But it had all been in vain. The Dark Lord had still found her, still killed her. She had “put her faith in the wrong person.� He had felt his heart break again, felt it shatter into a million pieces. Pieces that could never be put back together, a heart that would never love again. The Dark Lord had disappeared that night, but he hadn’t cared. He hadn’t celebrated, he hadn’t raised a glass to toast the boy who had done it. Instead, for the first time since he had been a child, he had cried himself to sleep, knowing that he’d never see those eyes again, feeling that great regret, knowing that it was all his fault...all his fault, and nothing could change that. He hadn’t cared that her son had lived, he was sure to mirror his father anyway. All that really had mattered was that she was gone, gone forever, and it was all his bloody fault.

Life went on. Lessons continued to be taught. Time continued. He, however, didn’t. He had nothing to live for, nothing at all. Eleven long, painful years passed; start of term came, and with it, a student about whom his feelings were, and ever would be, confused. When the boy had sat on the stool to be sorted, he had seen that he was a carbon copy of his father, right down to the annoyingly messy hair. As the child had sat down in his seat and looked up at the staff table, he had been surprised to see her eyes staring into his, for the eyes did not simply resemble hers, they were hers and he’d felt the pieces of his heart tremble as he’d remembered her. Those eyes that he thought he’d never see again had stared at him the same way hers had the day they had met. They had reflected a sense of curiosity and fear, and he hadn’t quite known what to make of it. On one hand, he was exactly like his father, on the other, he had his mother’s eyes. His first thought had been that he hated him. He was sure to be exactly what his father was, proud and cocky.

As the year went on, he felt that his suspicions were confirmed; the boy was exactly like his father, right down to his lack of respect for those above him. He was perhaps the most irksome student he had ever met. He could see nothing of his mother in him besides her eyes; the boy was his father through and through, and he did not like it one bit. This child was supposed to be his comfort now that she was gone? It felt more like rubbing salt into a wound, as it simply reminded him of whom she had chosen, and what that man had done to him.

However, as much as he hated the child, he couldn’t bear to watch him die. As his broom had started bucking, he had seen her eyes widening in fear. The child had to live, he had to. Her eyes had to live on, and she’d never have forgiven him if her child had died on his watch. He had known it was a jinx, he had had his suspicions as to who was doing it, thanks to the advice of his superior. He had been told to keep an eye on that the idiot Defence Against the Dark Arts, but he’d never thought that he’d try and kill the child. He was meddlesome and too nosey for his own good, but there was no need to kill him. To his great relief, the boy didn’t die that day, and he swore from that day on to keep him safe.

Two years went by. The boy had met Voldemort two more times, kept him from returning, and lived to tell the tale twice now, but the return of the betrayer, the other person besides himself that was responsible for her death could only mean that his life was in danger once more. He wanted to catch him more than anyone could ever imagine. It wasn’t because he wanted to save the boy, no the boy was safe as is, nor was it mere petty revenge for the tormenting he had received at his hand. It was because if there was one other person who was responsible for her death, it was him.

Somehow, the betrayer had made it in, not once, but twice. He blamed it on the employment of the betrayer’s best friend. Werewolves were not to be trusted; he was certainly letting the betrayer in. No one believed this accusation. He was desperate to get his hands on the betrayer. He needed to, if only to possibly piece together a part of his heart.

He had almost lost the boy that night; the boy would have died had he not, by some miracle, produced that Patronus. The betrayer had escaped, and he had been told that it had not been him at all, but rather a man who had been thought dead. Still unbelieving, he had continued into the summer as miserable as ever, especially with the upcoming events.

The appearance of the Dark Mark had been the first sign that something had been about to happen. Concerned for what may happen, he had gone into September with a wary eye. With all the extra people around, he had felt that the boy’s life may have been in danger, especially with the arrival of an ex-Death Eater.

His suspicions had been further confirmed when the boy’s name had come out of the Cup... He had watched as his Dark Mark had darkened, growing stronger with each passing day. He had had his doubts. He honestly had not thought that it had been the ex-Death Eater - he had betrayed too many of the Death Eaters for them to trust him. He had been sure that when the Dark Lord had returned he’d be one of the first dead.

Somehow, the boy had got through. He didn’t know how, but he was grateful he had. Knowing that the boy would be safe for at least the next few months had been a relief. He had had enough to worry about, especially with the ex-Death Eater running after him, inquiring things he did not know. He had noticed that the boy had begun to watch him especially carefully. He had known that the boy had never had much faith in him, but something in his eyes had reminded him of how her eyes had looked when she had suspected him. The boy must know something, he had thought, and he had hated him for it.

June had come with no issues surrounding the boy. Though his Dark Mark had continued to grow darker, there had been no whisper of what may be happening, if anything at all. That had changed that night. The boy had returned from the task with the body of his classmate. He had watched as he had been taken to the castle by the man who was there to help protect the students. As he looked up, he had seen the headmaster beckon for him and the old witch to follow. The boy had been taken, not by the man they had thought, but by a Death Eater in disguise, a Death Eater that, until then, everyone had thought was dead.

Through all this, the boy had had just one thing he had to say: “He’s back�. Something he had already known, as he had felt the once familiar burn on his left arm.

Upon being given the orders to do what needed to be done, he had gone to the Dark Lord, ready to resume his role of spy to the Order. That summer had not been an easy one. While the leaders of the Wizarding world had ignored his return, both the Order and the Death Eaters worked to bring up armies. A war had been coming, and he had known it.

However difficult his jobs were, he had persevered, for he owed it to her, not only keep her son safe, but to reinstate the world that she had died for. He had played the double agent, serving the Dark Lord while leaking information to the people who had been trying to return the world back to where it had once been. Not only had he had to play the darkest wizard of the age, but he had had to endure the insufferable know-it-all, the clan of red heads, the great dog of a man who had made his life horrible as a child, and the man who he had respected beyond all things, but who incidentally had held his very heart and soul in his hands.

That school year had proved to be just as difficult. The boy had been in his Fifth Year, and he had been experiencing things that no person should ever have to endure. The lack of Ministry support had allowed the Dark Lord to gain recruits at an alarming rate. Furthermore, the addition of that toad to the teaching staff had made any type of action very difficult.

When the boy had experienced the connection at Christmas, he had had a feeling that it would somehow result in another menial task for him. He had been right. He had been given the unfortunate job of teaching the boy to shield his mind. The boy was absolutely terrible at shielding his mind. He was simply too much of a Gryffindor in nature, always wearing his heart on his sleeve. He had thought that the boy didn’t want the connection to end. He supposed the boy had felt special having that direct link to the Dark Lord. Not only that, but the boy had dared to question his loyalties. It had been moments like these when the boy had had an incredible resemblance to his father, not just in looks. The boy had soon looked where he shouldn’t have looked, seen what he shouldn’t have seen. He had dismissed the boy, telling him his lessons were done.

Had the headmaster been happy with this decision? Absolutely not, but he had trusted his judgement. The wise wizard had always trusted him. Soon, the Headmaster had left, however, only to be replaced with that toad. Slowly, but surely, every Order member had been forced into leaving the school. Perhaps that’s why the boy had been so stupid as to break into the toad’s office. Perhaps he had felt that all the Order members were gone. He supposed it would be quite easy for the boy to forget that he was an Order member, as he had always been undeniably horrid to him.

There were some days when he couldn’t believe the stupidity of the boy. He had been warned that the Dark Lord might start using this connection, yet his heroism complex had come into play again, and he recklessly risked the lives of five other students, lives that he could not save. By the end of the night, there had been no doubt in the wizarding world that the Dark Lord was back.

That summer, as he worked diligently to protect his position, the greatest man he ever knew had made a fatal mistake. By putting on the ring, he had sealed his fate, for the curse on the ring could not be stopped. It could be confined, yes, but it could not be stopped.

“How long do you think I have?�

“I cannot tell, maybe a year.�

“His plan is to have the poor boy murder me.�

“He is not expected to succeed.�

“You must kill me.�*

He supposed the man had had his reasons, but it didn’t mean that he had wanted to do it. That year he had been on pins and needles. He knew that the old man had been seasoning him for, not only the mercy killing, but what he had known would come after. He had been given the position he’d always wanted. He wouldn’t be returning the next year anyway. He had watched, trying to figure out how exactly the old man’s death would play out. The boy had been convinced that the young man who had been given the orders for the murder was a Death Eater. Though the boy had been right, he wasn’t to know that, so much had been done on his part to keep it quiet.

It had been hard to keep things silent when the young man’s plans had gone astray twice. He had almost killed two people, and he had been no closer to killing the intended victim. He had tried to get into his head, get the young man to tell him of his plans, but the he had been silent, guarding himself from the man he had once looked up to, claiming that he was trying to steal his glory.

The ungodly screaming had brought him to the bathroom. There, on the floor, he had seen the young man, his life pouring out of the gashes along his body onto the floor, where it mixed with the water, staining the tile red. Beside him, unbelieving of what he had just done, had been the raven haired boy, muttering under his breath, trying to rectify his mistake. The boy had looked up and into his eyes as he had stood in the doorway and the man had never seen so much shame, regret, and pleading in one pair of eyes. He had known the boy had been sorry, but he had been angry, none the less.

He had patched up the young man on the floor and took him to the hospital wing. As for the boy, he had punished him most severely. Though he had known the boy had regretted causing harm to the young man, the severity of the spell – which he himself had created – had merited the severest of punishments. The boy had been guilty, and it had brought him back to his school days, when he had been tormented by the boy’s own father. In that moment, he had hated the boy more than he ever had before. He was like his father in every way. He was arrogant, impulsive, and was willing to hurt those he hated.

The rest of the year had brought much tension between him and the old man. The things he had asked of him had been difficult, and he had always just assumed that they would be done. Because they were.

“Has it ever crossed your brilliant mind that I don’t want to do this anymore?�*

Lies. He’d always do it, he’d always do what needed to be done for the old man, for the defeat of Voldemort. He owed her that much.

There had been a ruckus in the hallways. The old man and the boy had gone, he’d known that much. The old man had been right, something had been about to happen that night. As he had patrolled the corridors, he had had a feeling that after that night, the old man’s life would be over; that night, he would be exalted by the Dark Lord’s followers, and hated by everyone else in the wizarding world. After tonight, his life would become dark, a nightmare that he couldn’t wake from.

He had been right. The Dark Lord’s followers had invaded the castle, creating mayhem. This had left the one who had been given the orders to kill the old man a chance to attempt to fulfil his task. He had seen the young man race up the stairs. He had known that that had meant that the old man had come back, and he had prayed that the boy wasn’t there, that the old man had had enough sense to get him out of the way.

He had followed up after the young man, casting carefully aimed defensive spells, hoping to save the children who had been caught in the cross fire. He had gone up to the Astronomy Tower and found the old man in the corner, disarmed. He had breathed a sigh of relief � too early. He had been relieved the raven-haired boy wasn’t there, but then his eyes had slid to an extra broomstick, meaning the boy was there, but hidden. He had known that the trembling young man in front of the old man couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kill the old man. Despite everything he had seen and done, there was a sense of innocence in him, an innocence that made him unable to deliberately take a human life. Somewhere, the boy still had a heart.

So, he had turned to the old man.

“Please...�

“Avada Kadavra.�**

It was what had needed to be done, he knew that, but never the less, it had hurt as he had watched the one person who had had who knew him for who he really was, the one who had given him a second chance, fall. It would be years before he would realize that it had been because he had trusted him that the old man had allowed him to kill him.

He had grabbed the arm of the trembling young man who had been unable to complete the task given and ran. All he had wanted to do was mourn the old man, but it had not been the time nor the place for that. Showing grief would have shown where his true loyalties had lain. The Dark Lord’s followers didn’t mourn the dead - they didn’t have hearts, they didn’t care, they could not love.

He hadn’t noticed that the boy had been chasing him until he had felt the spells coming at him.

“COWARD!�***

If he had not just killed her son’s greatest influence and role model, he would have stopped, sneered, and told him how very wrong he was, for, while he had been a coward at one point, he was no longer. Indeed, the old man’s words reminded him of this fact often: “Sometimes I think we sort too soon�. Someday, he hoped, all this would be worth it. All the lies, all the hurt, everything. He hoped it would be done soon, over with. That someday, the darkest wizard of all times would be defeated; that her death would be avenged; that his mistake would be rectified.