"Death For Those Who Regret It"
I held my wand in front of me. My muscles flexing. The man was right there in front of me. Where was Potter? Hidden somewhere perhaps. If I didn't do this he would finish me, kill my father and torture my mother. Dumbledore did not need to die. I was just a pawn Voldemort was using in his grand scheme.
The Dark Mark hovered above the castle and burned into my skin. I was afraid, true. But I would do anything I had to to save my family. It was tome to do it.
The old man spoke, "Please," he begged. What a despicable act, begging for his life. Coward. But then again, so was I. I did not want to kill the man. It was not what I asked for.
I opened my mouth to say the curse, the curse that will quickly end his life. But it wasn't me who who spoke it.
"Avada Kedavra!" shouted Snape from behind me. I snapped my head back at him. He was not looking at the corpse of Albus Dumbledore who dropped from the Astronomy Tower as if hungry for his death, instead his eyes told a different story. Regret, despair... loss.