Christmas, remorse, hope by Dorothy12

It's Christmas again.

The forty-first Christmas in my life.

And it seems it won't be any more heart-warming than the ones so far.

However, the world has changed. Last year Potter defeated the Dark Lord and so the world is free from his horrendous and agonizing oppression. People are happy, they're slowly finding themselves again.

I don't like Christmans. I never did.

For long I was lying to myself that I hate this unnecessary ado, bustling, hypocrisy, dishonest smiling which people are mandatorily handing out on this day. And that I don't need this frivolity.

But in the last few years I realized the truth. The reason I don't like this feast. Due some miracle I admitted to myself that I hate it so much because I need these things. To not be a stranger on the Christmas Feasts at Hogwarts, but to actually take part in it.

But for some reason, I can't do it.

This year's feast was nothing different than the previous ones. Only that, instead of Dumbledore, McGonagall was sitting in the middle at the table. Just so that even this would remind me of my own sin, Dumbledore's death.

For how could I take part in the Feast of Love? I... who killed... furthermore, a friend... I will never forgive myself. Even if I know that he asked me to do it.

Anyway, this supper ended... like everything in the life. As I had the chance I fleed to my chambers in the dungeons. At least I don't have to confront the grin on other people's faces here, instead, I can be alone with my thoughts.

I like solitude. I like my masochistic thoughts because I'm fooling myself with them, saying it is how I can atone for my sins.

Because I made numerous sins. They accompany me through my life... since my childhood...

For it was a sin that I could not save my mother from my father. I was a coward and I couldn't face my father. I just watched as he beat my mother and I let him beat me. What could I have done against him as a child? I sat in the corner and cried. But now I know that even if I would not have succeeded, I should have tried at least. I might have died. Big deal. I would have saved myself from more than thirty horrible Christmas Eves. But Dread is powerful, and I was frightened those days. I was frightened from beatings, from pain, and that he might someday kill my mother. My mother, who never gave me much love, but at least she never hurt me.

Now I know that cowardice is an enormous sin. Perhaps it was the first sin I commited in my life.

When I left my home I swore never to be scared again, and I kept it.

But let's start at the beggining.

I got my Hogwarts letter at the age of eleven. As I explored the castle and my House members on the first night, I knew that I'll be an outsider. I didn't fit in any companionship. I lived as a lone wolf while others were loitering around me, and I never had a friend from all these people.

No one, except Lily. She understood me, we always talked for hours. I fell in love with her, but I never had the courage to tell her. She was a Gryffindor and I was a Slytherin... it would have no point. And her friends would never have tolerated me.

Her friends... my sworn enemies. I hope I knew the reason they hated me. But I never knew. I had been thinking on this since, but I never found the point when it all started. Perhaps, that idiot Black really just wanted to revel, and I happened to be the wretched bloke who he chose to torment. And he realized the first time that it was going to be a good eventuality for him to play the cool guy. Then, he didn't miss any chance to humiliate me. And I learned to retort after a while. In a nefarious, Slytherin way, but I was trying to defend myself. Even if he made me ridiculous in front of the whole school. Oh, how much I hated them.

And on that day, everything changed... even if Lily just wanted to help, as she always did. But I was excessively insulted and proud... and I wanted revenge... it didn't matter whom I wanted that revenge, but I wanted it anyway. I refused the helping hand that was offered to me. I bit it like the symbol of my House, a snake. I broke her heart. After that I had vainly begged for her forgiveness, and I had vainly amitted my love for her, all I received was a rigid, rejective look, and that she never wanted to see me again. I understood it... I accepted it.

I knew that pride and vengeance are crimes.

I could put my pride aside after that because I lost it with Lily. But not my thirst for revenge. I swore revenge on the Marauders.

Their cruelty, the loss of Lily and my fathomless lust for someone to accept me turned my attention to the Dark Lord. I haven't even took notice when the Dark Mark was already on my arm. Those times I didn't want anything but to revenge the world for every harm that was ever done to me.

In those times, I made numerous mistakes. If the Dark Lord commanded me, I killed... anyone, who I had the chance to. My soul was full of hatred. I'm not saying that I liked it, like so many of us did. But it gave me satisfaction, that then, I was not the one to be humiliated, the one who gets hurt.

This chaos lasted for long, and it might still be lasting, had I not lost the woman who I was still loving more than anything then. Lose her... tut-tut... she had never been mine, not for a moment. After our last quarrel, I haven't met her. She said she didn't want to see me again, and I fulfilled her request. Even though I missed her terribly.

I tried to save her in every way I could, but I was unable to.

When I heard that she died, that she sacrificed herself to save her son, something broke inside me. I thought I would go insane from so much pain. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. I shed a few tears, but no more. Perhaps, I have already cried them all out in my childhood. The pain, the self-accusation and the grief was deep inside me, unable to break out. Maybe if it could break out, everything would have been a little easier, maybe I could let go of my pain.

That was when I decided that it was enough of killing. I realized that I had done the same amount of pain to many people that I feel now. The pain that can only be caused by the loss of a loved one. Excruciating, nullifying pain, that was trying to swallow me whole. But finally, due some miracle, I found Hogwarts. I told Dumbledore everything, who never forgave me, but at least he accepted me request. However, every time he looked at me, I knew that he couldn't see anything else than a vicious murderer. And he was right... I really was one. I hated myself and I was disgusted by myself because killing is a deathly sin, but I realized this too late.

And I hated Dumbledore when he sent me back to the Dark Lord again and again. He forced me to live a life that was not made for human. He used me. I was nothing more than a tool in his hands that he could use to achieve his goals.

When the little Saviour of the Wizarding World appeared in the castle, all of my past misery came to the surface. His father's idiocy and Lily... who was still hurting me madly.

That's why I hated him so much. Mostly because of Lily. Because when I looked at him, all I could see was her beautiful emerald eyes. When Lily died, I promised her that I would save his son so that her death wouldn't be in vain. But when he was in front of me I hated him. I hated him, because I thought that his father was the one who took the woman who I loved away form me. But that's not true... I lost her for my own mistakes.

I kept my promise to Lily. No matter how much I hated Potter, I protected him when I could. There were times when we were compelled to work together. In those times, I could see him as a human.

Then came Dumbledore's insane plan... that I must kill him. How could he do this to me? I swore that I would not kill again. He said that only I know if it would break my heart to save an old man from suffering. He did not understand or he just didn't want to understand that the reason was all the same, I would be a murderer again, that neither the world nor I could accept.

After the war, the whole story was revealed to the world, but I didn't make my situation any better. I'm aware of the weight of my actions. Actually, I wouldn't have protested if I was sent to Azkaban or sentenced to death. I know that I would deserve that.

But no... I'm condemned to further tribulation. Nobody knows, but this was the worst they could have done to me. That every morning when I wake, I have to face the dark shadows of my past. And slowly I'll become nothing more but a shadow from the past.

Suddenly I snap from my musings. I look at the clock. Two more hours till dawn. This endless Christmas night will finally come to an end.

I almost sink back to my thoughts when someone raps on my door. I can't believe it first, that I heard knocking. But that can't be true, since nobody would come to this section of the dungeons in the daytime, it's even more unlikely for somone to come here at night. Furthermore, on Christmas Eve. I almos believe that I was only imagining things, when I hear the knocking once again.

I'm really not in the mood to have anybody here, and I have no idea who would come to me now. I get up slowly, but it's hard because I have been sitting for hours motionless in the armchair. I walk to the door and open it not-too-definitely. Then, I am definitely perplexed.

My visitor is none other than Harry Potter. I have a lot of different thoughts suddenly, but mostly that he was the only I missed for a very painful and miserable Christmas Eve.

"What do you want, Potter?" I ask tiredly.

"I just thought, sir, that you wouldn't be sleeping either, and I thought we could talk."

"What for?"

"Maybe because our lives are the same."

"Don't be so stupid, Potter. You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yes, I do, sir! Your life is just as lonely and painful... and you live in the past, just like me - your voice is as tired as mine. Slowly, I begin to realize that it's not all nonsense that you say."

"And what good would it do, Potter, if we talked about it?"

"I dunno," he shrugs, "maybe it'll be easier."

"Don't you think that both of our pain would only make the other's worse? That it would not be any better?"

"Can it get any worse?" He asks and I open the door for him. He slowly steps inside, I can see that he's uncertain. I close the door.

"Sit down, if you have already come so far. What brings you here on this Christmas Eve?" I ask, but I already know his anwser.

"That I know," he says, "that we are thinking about the same things, sir. On the past, the war, on Voldemort, on those who have died, and on my mother. Who was just as significant for you as she was for me. And it doesn't matter that it's Christmas Eve, these things do hurt. It might be even worse now, at Christmas. Because now we miss those even more who we loved and can't be with us anymore. And I know that, for you, my mother's death was the most painful. Do you admit it for youself at least?"

"I admit several things to myself, Potter, but that doesn't mean that I'll confess them for you, too."

"I didn't come here for you to admit anything to me. It's enough if you own them up to yourself, like me. I know how much it hurts. You lost the woman who you loved, just like me in the Final Battle. Since then, I'm almost unable to think about Ginny. I can't bear the pain."

"It's still a bit different, Potter, for the Weasley girl loved you. You were in a relationship with her. But Lily... your mother never loved me. For a while she might have thought of me as a friend, but I ruined even that."

"Thanks for my father and godfather. They are the ones to blame."

"You should not have seen that memory."

"Why?" He asks with sincere curiosity, "Would it be better if I judged them by some fake picture? They were not perfect, and I had to realize that. And neither am I, nor are you. All of us make mistakes that'll have consequences on the future."

"Yes, that is true. However, while for others these are small things, for me... for you... and for some others these are decisions that changed the life of people or the future of the Wizarding World. And I made several bad decisions."

He shrugs his shoulder, "And so did I. I risked my friends' life plenty of times. I knew that they would follow me no matter what, and I used this. They could have died anytime, but back then I was too little to realize that. In the Final Battle, I grew up. I've lost everyone who I loved," he looks at me suddenly, "Will you tell me, sir, what hurts you most?"

It's my turn now to shrug. "You already know that," he just looks at me so I have to say it, "What hurts me most is that I couldn't save your mother."

"Have you tried, professor?" He asks with curiosity in his eyes.

"I've tried. In more than one ways, but in the end I failed."

"Well, if you tried you have nothing to blame yourself for, sir. I'm sure that you have done everything you could."

"But that was not enough."

"I know. But if it must have happened, no one could have done anything."

"You're talking about your mother, Potter!" I snap angrily because I don't understand why he would say that.

"That's right, professor. Don't think that I actually take it easy. There have not been a day in my life in which I did not think about her. I miss her terribly, but I don't even have a memory of her, and I know that if she lived my life would have been completely different. I would have known what it feels like to be loved since my childhood. But... I also know that she died so I could live. So I would have a chance to do what I did. I'm sorry that she can't be with me, but I know that from all of her options she chose the one that she thought would be best. That is partly why I did this whole thing. So that her death would not be in vain. So that her faith in me would not be in vain. But back to you... I loathed you for a long time, sir... for the memory I saw, for you loved her... I was sure that you had no right to love her."

He stops, but I'm curious about what he thinks now. "And have it changed?"

"Yes. Now I understand that everyone has the right to love. Especially as truly as you loved my Mum. I don't hate you anymore... and I'm not angry with you because you couldn't save her."

"It's enough that I can't forgive myself for it."

"Well, I can't help you in that, sir. I just thought that it'd better if you knew that I'm not angry."

"I don't understand you, Potter. Your mother died and her death ruined your childhood, your life, and you still say that you're not in the least bit irate?"

"I didn't say that, professor. I'm angry. I'm furious. Just not at you. I'm mad at the person who caused this chaos. I'm angry at Voldemort."

Deep in my heart I know that he's right, but it's not that simple. I just shake my head.

"I can't help you in forgiving yourself, sir," he says again, "but you might be able to do so sometime."

"Might," I say, not really convinced.

I think it's time to use his questions against him, "And what is it that bothers you most?"

He doesn't have to think for much time. "Sirius's death" he anwsers.

I loathed Black all my life, but I can understand the boy's feelings. Black was his godfather, and maybe the first man who gave him a bit of love, a little care.

"His death was my fault. If I weren't so stupid... if I only listened to others' advices, maybe he would still be alive."

"Don't tantalize yourself with that, Potter. You can blame Voldemort for Black's death just as much as for your mother's death. For he had an influence on you, too. He changed your actions, nothing you did was actually you."

"That doesn't really help, sir."

"Yes, I know. I also know that it will be just as hard for you to forgive yourself as for me to forgive my own mistakes. But, even if I want to be drastic with you, I can say that this is the only sin troubling you. But me... I have been living among them... for a long time... I've done inhuman things. Some you couldn't imagine. I have killed, I have tortured people, depending on what was the command... your mistake, in comparison to mines, is just a drop in the ocean... I still do not understand why the court released me. After everything I've done. After I killed Dumbledore."

"You did that because he asked you to, don't forget that, sir."

"I was fulfilling a command as I did in my whole life. But I still used the Killing Curse. I used it on him, who always wanted to help as much as he could."

He snorted. "Of course he did," he then said sarcastically.

"Why do you say that?"

"Sometimes I think that he was no better then Voldemort himself. He would sacrifice anyone for the 'Greater Good'. You... me... anyone from the Order. If I wanted, I could even blame Sirius's death on him."

"He's dead now, Potter. No need to adjudge him. He was a human like any of us, he made decisions which were sometimes good, sometimes bad."

"He and Voldemort were like two people on the two ends of a chesstable. We meant nothing more to them than mere figures in chess."

"But we won the game, Potter. And even though it doesn't bloody help the two of us, the world is free now."

"Yes. We are the last two victims of this damn war. And though we survived... I sometimes wish that I was dead."

"Fate wanted us to survive. I have to atone for my sins. But you are still young... you can still find Happiness."

"I don't lie to myself, sir."

I watch this young man infront of me and I know that he's sirious about it. The last few years broke him, too. What he saw, what he eperienced, what he did... for he had killed also. True, only Voldemort, but it still burned a hole in his soul. These will leave a mark on his soul forever. I'm sorry for him, he didn't deserve it from life.

I must have been thinking for a long time because he talks again.

"What are you thinking on, sir?"

"I'm thinking that none of it should have ever happened. That Voldemort should never have been born and then everything would be completely different. We all could live a different life. The world would not have suffered so much, and people who died before their time could still be living."

"I also think about it a lot of times. But then I remember something Dombledore told me once. He said something like 'It does not to dwell on dreams and forget to live'. And he was right at that. Reality was ruthless and atrocious. But it all happened and we have to learn to live with it. We have to help the world to finally be normal. For we have to build it up from its ruins. It might not be better for us, but at least it will be for the next genereations."

"Fair enough. The past will follow us no matter where we go or what we do. The world can be reborn from its ashes, like a phoenix, and that's how it should go. We will do anything for that just like we did anything we could in the war."

He nods and for a while we both sit in comfortable silence, deep in our thoughts. Finally he looks up and sighs.

"Well, I guess it's time for me to go, sir. The sun is rising already. Christmas Eve is over, but the pain remains."

"Did you think it will not? This pain will be with us till we die, Potter. On 364 days in a year it might be less intense, but on this day, on Christmas Day, it will burn vividly inside us."

"I know, sir," he says and slowly stands to walk to the door. I go after him to let him out, but before he reaches the door he turns to me, "Can I come back later, sir?"

"Did we not talk about everything?"

"Maybe we did," he says thoughtfully, "but the next Christmas will not be any better."

For a moment I just stare at him, thinking about the truth in his words then I nod, "Alright. I'll wait for you next Christmas."

"Thank you, sir!" He says and tries to smile - with little success. "I'll be right here," with that he steps out the door and I close it behind him.

I sink back in my armchair and I think that I'm at least not the only one in the world who's so endlessly wrethed, but it's not a good consolation.

I'm sorry for this boy. But he still has the chance to find Happiness in the ruins of Pain.

But for me... only this remaines for me. The pain, the memories, the self-loathing, the remorse which does not let me even breath.

Potter said that there will be a time when I can forgive myself. I don't believe that. Perhaps... perhaps when I die and I can face Lily again, when I can ask for her forgiveness again. For everything I have done against her.

But until then, it's everything that remains.

Excruciating memories, depressing Christmases, who knows how many more.

Will I ever be able to take part in the Celebration of Love? I don't know. I'd like to think that I will.

But until then, it's everything that remains.

Excruciating memories, depressing Christmases... and hope that says that I'll be a part of the Feast of Love sometime.