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?â€
–I cannot tell, maybe a year.â€
–His plan is to have the poor boy murder me.â€
–He is not expected to succeed.â€
–You must kill me.â€*
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?â€*
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...â€
–Avada Kadavra.â€**
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!â€***
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 soonâ€. 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.
I'm Moving On by Maple_and_PheonixFeather
Chapter Notes: Thanks, as always, to Hogwartsbookworm. She's an amazing beta!
Chapter Endnotes: * Taken from Deathly Hallows Chapter 33: The Prince's Tale
** Taken from Half Blood Prince Chapter 27: The Lightning Struck Tower.
*** Taken from Half Blood Prince Chapter 28: The Flight of the Prince.
Love it, hate it? Let me know!