I am an actor. No, it's not my occupation, but I am an actor all the same. You've probably seen me, but only in my persona. I am the professor that stalks the halls. I am the professor that takes the points. I am the professor that everyone hates. Yes, everyone, not just the Hufflepuffs, the Ravenclaws, or the idiotic Gryffindors, but my Slytherins too. Sure, the students of my house respect me, but because one respects another doesn't mean that the first likes or is friendly with the second. The perfect example is the relationship between the werewolf, Remus Lupin, and myself. I respect him for going through monthly pain that can be comparable to being under the cruciatus for over a minute because of his…condition, that's the only reason that I even made the Wolfsbane potion for him, but I absolutely loathe the mongrel and believe that the feeling is mutual.
As I have said earlier, I am an actor. Every day, every minute, is all part of the extreme farce of a theatrical performance that is my life. My parts are the sarcastic, biased potions professor, the loyal, subservient Death Eater, and the elusive, loyal spy for the Order and Albus Dumbledore. I am none of these. And I hate every single character. True, I am naturally sarcastic and I have a deep fondness for the subtle art of potion making, which is what I share with my role as the potions professor. And, I concede that I am loyal, but only to those that manage to earn my trust, and am very elusive, my true traits that coincide with my roles as a Death Eater and spy.
As an actor, those surrounding me, including Dumbledore and the Dark Lord, see only what I want them to. The students, my old schoolmates, my fellow professors, I let no one see who I truly am. They do not see my fondness for magic in it's most basic form, others don't realize that there is no such thing as dark magic or light magic except for the silly rules that they bind themselves with. There is no light magic or dark magic; there is only power and how one chooses to use that power. Magic is also always changing, always becoming more powerful, akin to the hydra of myth growing more heads once one is cut off.1
This passion is something that I hide. I have to. Only because it would be out of character for any and all of my roles. Anything that I am fond of I have to push away, and anything that I am not fond of, I get the small pleasure of acting even more like the bastard that I am when that object comes up in conversations or if a person I loathe is in the same room. One could say that it is a guilty pleasure, but if you were in my position, then you would know that one has to take pleasure where one can find it.
I don't worry too much over my roles or my acting. I've had to act since before I was eleven. My earlier roles included the brilliant, socially stunted Slytherin student that knew more curses and hexes than even the best of the sixth year students and the solemn, distant son of a broken household. I have been an actor for longer than I can remember, but I never realized it till I met those who could utterly destroy my characters, my personas, but, fortunately that number has only counted to two. Not counting that bastard Potter when he tried to rectify his mutt's prank in my sixth year.
The first was Lily Evans, I never considered her a Potter, even after she married him. She was the only one I welcomed back stage, one could say. Our meetings were brief at best, a pass in a corridor, helping the other find a book or two in the library. Still, slowly, but surely, I began to trust her, and I found myself an ally against the pranks Potter and his subordinates had thrown at me since being sorted. I could never loathe her, but I had to insult her, belittle her, lest anyone, especially my father, discovered that I had someone even resembling a friend, and oddly enough Lily understood, accepted, and bore my harsh words with nary a complaint.
The second was the Potter twerp, hmm…twerp, haven't used that yet, I must find a time when I can call him that. Nevertheless, I absolutely loathe the brat. The only thing that would make me happier than successfully brewing a complicated potion would be if someone finally had the guts to put him in his place and give the brat more than a month's detention with me or his suspension. Before, I had held a grudge because he was just like his father in ways that even he never knew. But he had invaded my privacy, forced my character to collapse on itself into millions of pieces smaller that beetle eyes. That was an action that was unforgivable. One could say that I now had a more reasonable cause for loathing the twerp.
I am an actor; I shall remain an actor for the rest of my life. Nothing I can do or anyone else can do is able to stop this play. Nothing short of my death or the end of the world, which ever decides to come first.
1. This refers to Snape's speech in Harry's DADA class.