Nemesis

‘He is my worst enemy.’ Good for you, buddy, but couldn’t you look for a more descriptive term? Worst enemy is an oxymoron, for wouldn’t your worst enemy be the one who was the worst at being your enemy? And, as such, be the one that you hated the least? Archenemy is only slightly better;

Enemy is not an interesting or unique word.

Yet, Harry Potter is often called my enemy.

Harry Potter is not my. It is far too complicated between us for us to simply be labeled as ‘enemies.’

When it comes to Potter there is almost a dynamic between us, something so perfectly right about it all that I can’t seem to find the words to describe it. Isn’t my enemy, oh no, rather he’s my nemesis. The one I cannot best no matter how hard I try. The one so completely opposite from me that it’s almost as though what we have, this jumble of emotions, this relationship is meant to be. He’s my Gryffindor counterpart: the day to my night, the angel to my devil, the life to my death, the sun to my moon . . . the white to my black. But when we meet it seems as though it all changes. As if the whole world shifts on it’s axis, and makes all of the colours break out of the confinements of his white light; colouring us both in brilliant – and they are brilliant – shades of grey. Seems out of place doesn’t it?

And it’s true, for when it comes to confronting Potter all I can think of is the blood rushing to my head; the need to beat him in any way possible in insatiable. It’s almost as if my whole being is focused on that one moment of confrontation.

When I fight with Potter it’s as though I’m finally complete in the most bizarre sense of the word. As though without him my life, my world, would be strangely out of balance. It would be a twisted world of fake colours, twisted bodies. A world with no real point; a world that would be unbelievably wrong. When he is not around it’s almost as though I’m halfway to that chaotic world, that place.

I don’t know what I would do without him – my nemesis in every possible way. It’s almost suiting that the word ‘nemesis’ comes from the ancient Greek Goddess Nemesis – the Goddess of Divine Retribution; for it seems as though there must be some type of divine intervention in this. Maybe Nemesis does exist, and is trying to pay Potter back for refusing my hand of friendship.

I wonder what would have happened if he had accepted my hand of friendship instead of choosing that stupid Weasley over me? Would our friendship be as strong as our rivalry? Would it have lasted as long? Consider the way I feel for him now, I would say that it would be a formidable friendship— or would it be just a friendship?. A far greater bond than he and that pathetic Weasel could ever dream of having. The question is if I could go back to that day and change it all, would I? And the answer is… I really don’t know.

For the longest time I would have said no, because my pride would have called for it — me, befriend, him? I hate him — but now I’m not quite so sure; my feelings for him transcend hate. In fact, I don’t even know what I feel for him anymore the feelings are so great.

What would it feel like to help him with potions? To fly beside him? To be in the same house as him? Sleep in the same room — bed? — as him? To have him rush up to me after that horrid ferret incident

Ha! It’s a silly question though, for he will forever be my nemesis. It is destined to be. I will hate him up front, hate him in the background, and love the — is it a relation ship, or something else? — we have formed forever. Love truly is a fickle thing, for I love his hate, our hate in a way incomparable to most, and that is fine. As long as I have that hate, I will be satisfied.

And satisfaction really is the key.

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FIN