The Day He Fell
íItís too late. Iíve made excuses for you for years.
You and your precious little Death Eater friends Ė you see, you donít even deny it. You donít even deny thatís what youíre all aiming to be! You canít wait to join You-Know-Who, can you?
ĎI canít pretend any more. Youíve chosen your way, Iíve chosen mine.í
Lily Evansí last word to Severus Snape
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, The Princeís Tale
How long had he been staring at the portrait of the Fat Lady, the portrait that swung closed behind her? Hours? Days? Lifetimes? He did not know.
Had the portrait opened, had somebody climbed through it and bumped right into him, he would not have noticed. He would not have cared. It wouldnít have mattered. Nothing mattered anymore.
He had come to apologise. But she had not even listened to him.
He had been upset. He had been humiliated in front of the entire school. And even worse, in front of her, the only one that he cared about what she thought of him. He had not meant to call her Mudblood. But he had not wanted her to see how he was shamed. He had wanted her to go away.
A true friend would have understood. But she had turned away from him, had left him alone in the dark corridor outside the Gryffindor common room. Cold, embarrassed and alone. Oh, so alone.
What was the point now? What was there worth fighting for?
Glory he wanted none. Money he had never had and didnít have any desire for now. And power? Power over whom?
Nothing mattered anymore. It did not mater if he disappeared into the Darkness, if he ever saw the Light again. Because his light had gone.
He took the Cursed Mark during the night of the next new moon, fell into the Darkness.
She could have saved him that day. She could have listened.
But she had not.
She had let him fall.