The Fall

(of Witch Weekly's Most Handsome Bachelor)

I often imagined it in my mind. I thought it would be glorious to watch him fall apart. But when it actually happened, I didn't understand. One would suspect that I, of all people, would not care. That I, in fact, would enjoy it immensely. No. No, I didn't. His eyes, so detached, as if nothing mattered anymore. His hair was long by then, hanging around his face, as if a shield from the pain of the rest of the world.

He was with me when it happened. In the middle of class, he suddenly just snapped. The explosion of magic rocked the room. Glass shattered, cauldrons tipped. I saw Crabbe and Goyle get drenched. Luckily I moved out of the way in time.

I still see it when I sleep, still hear Granger's terrified, mournful shriek, Weasley's soft, panicked coaxing. Such loyalty. I'd never seen anything quite like it before. It was something I've never had. Though maybe I can still get. But I am doomed to spend the rest of my life paying for my sins. I have missed my chance.

The things I said to him. Merlin, I know they were what set him off. That article had me steaming, though. Not that I can justify myself. No, I never can. Always regretting my actions, never taking the chances I have to change them. I knew that my own tongue would lead me to great trouble one day. I'm surprised it has taken this long. But I will not be so pompous as to say that I have caused this all. It would be a disgrace to him.

I was reeling. I had no idea what I was to do. So much for being a teacher. They really should train us for such a situation. Granger looked at me with accusing eyes. I could not look away. There was such hatred there. I had known that she was the one to stick up for me among them. Never had I thought to gain such a look from her.

Weasley glanced up as well, but he was more intent on his writhing friend. It was he who chilled me. I had figured the boy would murder me. He has quite the temper, going off left and right. But it was strikingly apparent when I saw his eyes. The blasted boy pitied me. Oh, I have never wanted to kill myself more than in that moment.

I had always credited Granger to have the cool, logical head. You must imagine my surprise when it was Longbottom who acted. He stood up, hands shaking. Pointing at Thomas, he ordered him to fetch Minerva. Then he sent Brown and Finnegan to Poppy. He didn't even hesitate before telling Malfoy and Parkinson to get Albus. The prefects were all privy to easy contact with the headmaster. For a moment, Longbottom seemed to breathe. But then he was ordering everyone else about, telling them to clean up their potions and try to get any fumes out of the air.

My students didn't even look at me before they started cleaning their things up. Moon nudged me gently as she passed, as if trying to force me back to life, to motion. Longbottom moved over to me, requesting that I find a calming drought.

It didn't occur to me not to listen.

Minerva and Albus swept into the room together. Minerva went white, whilst Albus turned grim. They were immediately upon the boy. I just ambled over and handed Longbottom the calming drought.

Minerva was the one who asked what happened. No one said anything right away. Granger opened her mouth, furious, but Weasley placed a hand on her arm. He looked at me briefly before telling them that it had been a usual class, and suddenly, this happened.

Longbottom had uncorked the drought by now. Thinking he would give it to his classmate, I was astonished when he pressed it back in my hands. Softly, he ordered me to drink it. I must say, it felt astonishingly right, Longbottom being in control.

Poppy flew into the room, snarling at everyone to move away. I don't believe that I've ever seen her quite so frightening. She went to work immediately, ordering everyone about, telling all the students to make sure that the air in the room was clean, was fresh. I was suddenly able to identify who it was Longbottom reminded me of. Poppy. He had known what to do, how to handle this, just as she would have done.

I would tell that to Poppy later. She would smile at me and shake her head. But it would not be a real smile. No one around here has truly smiled. Not for a long, long time.

You see, for the first time, Harry Potter ran out of luck. He wasn't able to suddenly snap back to reality.

It's been three years now. He would have graduated last year.

The Dark Lord is still out there, being a raving lunatic. He was so pleased when Harry lost control. I felt it through my mark.

Malfoy isn't a Death Eater. Talk about your oddities. I wonder if, were Potter still around, this would have happened. Maybe everything does have a purpose.

Harry will sometimes burst out, lashing with magic, exploding windows or flashing light. Other times he will convulse, living in some nightmare his mind has created. We've long since built him his own room in the hospital wing. As he's a minor, they couldn't send him to St. Mungo's. Thank Merlin for small miracles.

I sit here, every day after classes. Poppy put a cot in here for me. Weasley and Granger come by often. They used to study in here, before they graduated. I can't understand how they make the time to see him. But there's that devotion again. I won't ever understand it.

There's hope, the faithful will say. Hope that Harry may some day come back.

I'm not a faithful person.

I'm not good; I'm not evil. I tread the thin line between the two, often wavering upon it, accidentally slipping. When these wars are fought, people like me must choose a side. We must decide who we think will win, who will most benefit. And then we must await the hero, to end this all, only for us to repeat the process.

This time, the hero did not make it.

I have hope, that some day, Harry Potter will stand up form his fall. That the hero will rise through astounding obstacle to kill the villain. (For this time I am on good's side.)

It will not happen. Not likely.

But I will hope.

If only because I am guilty of watching him fall.