I think about it occasionally.
Of course, I could never admit that to anyone, but it's true. Late at night, when everyone else is sleeping and
the dormitory is as quiet as a tomb. Some nights I find I just can't get to sleep. So instead of trying to force myself,
I come out here.
No one knows about this, naturally. Wouldn't do to have anyone asking me questions. "What are you thinking?
Are you upset?"
Of course I'm upset, you prat. How could I not be? No one else I know has to deal with these issues. Not
the Weasel. Not the Mudblood. Not even Saint Potter.
Like I said, I try not to think about it too much. Wouldn't be good to dwell on things I can't change. But I
know it's happening. I know for a fact Potter isn't lying.
No, Mother and Father have never actually come out and said to me "You know, Son, the Dark Lord has
returned and we are working for him." That would be absurd, if not suicidal. You don't actually mention the Dark Lord.
Especially not in my house.
I asked Father about him once. Asked what it was like to be in the service of the greatest wizard mankind
has ever known. Asked him what benefits and rewards we would reap when he was triumphant. Asked when I would be
old enough to serve him.
I got smacked across the face for my 'impertinence" and told never to ask questions. The walls have ears, you know.
Yes, Father. I know. I am not stupid, no matter what you continue say
I realize that I have never seen either of their forearms. A small thing, most people would think, but it always
seemed odd to me, that even in the hottest days of the summer, they would never expose their arms. "Undignified" father said.
I realize that there are certain rooms in the basement that I am not allowed to even think about without chancing
severe punishment. I learned that lesson early enough, when I walked into a house of horrors when I could barely stand
on my own. Of course, Mother and Father think I don't remember.
I realize that good help is definitely hard to find these days, and those who are lacking in discretion wind up being
more than dismissed from our household. That is, you realize, what the room is for. Good thing money can buy you anything.
All right, bribes can buy you anything. Even silence. That seems more realistic.
I am old enough now to realize that in order to be at the right hand of the devil, you still have to be in his path.
Mother and Father don't know I have seen them come back from these "gatherings" before. Broken. Scared. Not the
image of strength they want to portray to the unwashed masses. There is nothing regal or imposing about them when they come
back like whipped dogs from the service of the Dark Lord.
And yet, they still go, night after night. Personally, I think it's the fear of punishment rather than love of the Dark
Lord that makes them go.
Now, there's a comforting thought.
I also realize that this path they have chosen is not one I can see myself taking. No, I am not being noble.
Call it simple practicality if you will.
I have no desire whatsoever to join in the fighting with the Mudbloods, Muggle lovers and undesirables that
oppose the Dark Lord. However, I have even less desire to abase myself in front of this thing that controls my parents.
I don't want to sink to their level.
That stupid hat didn't proclaim me a Slytherin for nothing. I'm going to be here, waiting for the end of the
fight. And when The Mudblood, the Weasel and Saint Potter meet up with my parents, the Dark Lord and the rest of his
"associates" I will be cheering from the sidelines.
I am no coward, but I am going to survive this war, no matter what else happens. I'll be here to reap the rewards
at the end of the fray.
And that IS a comforting thought.