Pessum Ire

"Avada—"

I can't help but wish I could have taught just one of my own Defense lessons.

This Death Eater stands before me, and I'm not at all surprised. One can only lie to the Dark Lord for so long before he catches on. Seventeen years. I don't know how I've made it this far. But it's been too long. Too much time spent mourning what I might have been.

I am very bright, you know. Near the top of my Hogwarts class. I could have been great. I thought he would bring me greatness. If only I could have known that night. If only there were some way to know that there was no way out, that once a life was pledged to the Dark Lord, it belonged to the Dark Lord.

In the beginning, all I wanted was power and prestige. I got it, from the Dark Lord, at first anyway. It took me five years to learn that I would always belong to him, that I would never be my own man again, that I would never have control of my person again, that I would never be free again. That power would never come to me.

Most Death Eaters will never realize this, they sit idly waiting for the day that the Dark Lord decides them worthy of power. The man before me is one of them, I'm sure. Lucius Malfoy is another. Malfoy thinks what he has is power. He is merely doing the Dark Lord's bidding.

They don't seem to understand that while the Dark Lord will praise you if you put forth enough effort, he will curse you in the next breath if you fail to please him. He expects complete loyalty. He gives none in return.

I will not miss love. I never loved anyone, nor anything for that matter. No one has ever loved me.

I do regret never deserving the smell of flowers on my pillow.

In my mind's eye, I can see my Potions class.

Draco. I had hoped to get through to him before he made a choice that would, for lack of a less melodramatic term, ruin his life. He's far too intelligent and resourceful to waste his life in indentured servitude. Last I heard, he was moving quickly up their ranks. Much as I did.

I can only hope he won't end up like me, stuck first between what is easy and what is right, and now between "Avada" and "Kedavra".

I had always hoped I would die without this snake burning my arm. That the world would know I was better than the evil man they acquainted with my name, that I risked my life for them. Not for the glory, only for the understanding.

Potter as well is in the classroom in my mind. He's fighting somewhere now, and, pray Merlin, winning, Granger and Weasley at his side. How lucky he is, for friends that will follow him into battle.

Longbottom. If only once he had been deserving of my praise. To have only once seen him smile in my class.

I wasn't a good professor. My students feared me. There was little respect. I never loved teaching, but knowing the kind of education some of my students would have had under another professor...

Dumbledore. One of the greatest wizards in the history of wizardry. Great man, Dumbledore. I can only hope that I have not let him down.

There is very little of my life I will miss. I have made many mistakes, taken many wrong paths. Too many. I do not deserve forgiveness.

I know now that I will never have friendship. I will never drink myself silly and wake up stark naked and embarrassed, but have someone to laugh at myself with. I will never see little faces that look a bit, and Merlin willing only a bit, like mine. I will never be respected, or admired, or a hero. I will never have power. I will never teach Defense.

I have been told that before you die your life flashes before your eyes. Sometimes it's the life you didn't have.

"—Kedavra."

Author's Note: Hmm…*is confused*. I don't really know what that is or how it happened but it sure is interesting, isn't it? Pessum Ire is Latin for (roughly) to put an end to something. Review please!

Disclaimer: As always, not mine, JK's.