Reflections

It's cold and musty in my chambers. It always is in the dungeons. I'm grading papers, thinking about what I have yet to do, and what I will have to do tomorrow. I'm also wondering what Draco is doing about his mission. His refusal of my help hurts, though I tell no one of this fact.

The year is almost over, he needs to get moving soon. The dark lord is not forgiving of failure. I wonder if he knows that this mission is punishment for his father's failure? Probably, he's an intelligent boy. I'm pondering what his plan might be when Flitwick bursts into my chambers, shouting something about death eaters in the castle. I wonder how Draco got them in, but I will find out soon enough.

I draw my wand; Flitwick doesn't realize that I am about to stun him, he merely thinks I am getting ready to fight the death eaters. As I rush out of my office, I see that annoying Granger and another girl, I think she's called Lovegood. I tell them Flitwick fainted, to go and help him. Fortunately, they hesitate only a second before rushing in to help him, this makes my job easier.

I run up multiple flights of stairs, and I finally reach the fighting. I see a barrier erected in front of me, the spell is a clever bit of work, it allows only those with a dark mark to pass through. I run through it, telling no one of my plans. The Order still thinks I am on their side. I run out to the top of the tower, and I see Draco and Dumbledore.

Draco has lowered his wand, and Dumbledore is standing by two brooms, leaning on the tower. He sees me, and mutters, "Severus....please...." I ponder his weaknesses, and his strengths as I raise my wand. I hate his weakness, here at the end, and I hate his strength as well. I admire that strength even as I loathe it. His perfect faith in his ideals, in second chances. That takes a great deal of stupidity, as well as courage. I ponder my own weaknesses, my own strength as well. I hate my own weakness, how weak I am, following someone stronger than I am.

I hear my own voice as I shout out the fatal words, and I don't sound like myself. "Avada Kedavra!" I cry, and my voice is twisted with the hate and rage I'm feeling. Draco and I run for it. I'm still pondering my weaknesses and strengths as Draco and I run. If I had been strong, like he was, maybe I would have chosen a different path. Maybe, if we hadn't been so weak, things would have been different. I wonder about Draco, will he be strong, and choose his own path? Or will he be like the rest of us, serving the most powerful wizard living. I can't say. I wonder if Dumbledore was really begging for mercy, or if he was begging for death. No one will ever know.