Every time I looked at the boy with his jet-black hair, lightning bolt scar and those brilliant green eyes, so like his mother's, I fill with loathing. Not loathing for him directly, but self loathing. Even though I did not want to accept it, I hated myself more with each look at that boy. Each look was a reminder of what I had done wrong, many things in total, but specifically of my offenses against his mother.
Every time I saw that boy, it was infuriating, as I remembered the times I had pushed her away. The first time I called her a mudblood, I blame that on the elder Potter for if he had not been humiliating me in the first place, she never would have offered to help. My pride is also to blame, but I often push that to the back of my mind. If Potter had not enjoyed tormenting me so, I would never have been pressed into those situations where I had to either look like a fool and accept her help, or act like a Slytherin and earn back some of the lost respect of my housemates.
When he looks at me after I have punished him, it is the same look his mother gave me when she realized I had made some mistakes. The normal mistakes of a Slytherin, dark magic involvement and rumors of meeting with death eaters. She did not approve and I scorned her caution, not letting on that I had already bitten off more than I could chew. That was the final straw for her, she could not stay friends with someone who would not even take what she said into consideration.
Now, ever since she has been gone, I have had to live with that guilt. I have come to accept that it was my fault. Yet, every time I see the younger Potter, my student, I am reminded and my increased self loathing only exacerbates my hatred of the Gryffindor class. Having to live with myself and my numerous errors in judgment just adds to my angry demeanor.
I don't hate the boy, I just hate what he brings to mind and all these tormenting thoughts I cannot seem to banish.