The dark surrounds him. Oh, yes, he has repudiated it. But Dark sings in his blood and ambition thunders in his heart, and to leave it he would be a different man. There is hate in his eyes, a hatred that burns brighter every day and is fostered, nurtured, through his family's stubborn refusal to accept change.

He is not a tree- not a Slytherin- who bends to the strongest wind as a matter of course. No, he is a pillar of marble- one who will break before he bends, one who will give a furious fight to anyone who dares to yoke him.

He does not bow to another; his neck is a proud one, and would rather fight slavery than escape slavery than accept slavery.

The fierce highs and lows of his mood are often more than another person will ever feel; there is an elegance bred into him from birth. His features are strongly beautiful, with high cheekbones and pale skin contrasting with black hair and heavy lids.

To the last breath, he is a warrior. And that is what the world remembers. But they do not speak of the boy who defied his parents, nor the young man who looked past his fear of dark creatures for his friend. They do not tell who laughed with his friend, or who pushed past boundaries.

They cannot see the man who lost so much he went to death with a laugh and open arms.

They do not remember the man who never forgave a traitor, or an Heir who destroyed his Family. No, for there is one alone who remembers, who will, in time, tell his own Heir, so the tale of history will not be forgotten, will not be repeated.

He is a boy with messy dark hair and brilliant green eyes. He is a man who has the weight of the world on his shoulders and the blood of innocents on his conscience and the soul of murderers on his hands. He is a man whose humanity is forgotten, too, by the World. But he remembers, and he will ensure his Heirs and his Heir's Heirs will remember, so the wheel will come full circle, so the past will not be redone.

And when he looks back, he sees the first father ever had, and the only unconditional love he has ever known. He remembers the man who hung onto sanity by a thread, and escaped an inescapable fortress out of fear- not for his own life, but for his godson's.

He remembers how the world turned on him, and how he could do nothing but accept it, how he suffered for it.

He remembers the kindness and the rage, the prejudice and the faith, the loyalty and the vengeance. He remembers it all in his second father.

And even as he hears the praises of the man who ensured his childhood would never, could never exist, he wonders that the people he saved cannot understand that every person has masks- some more than others- and what is seen is not always the truth. (They are not children to see the truth and believe on that alone.)

He has forgiven the man his manipulations. But he cannot forgive other, smaller things- his inability to hug his wife without flinching, the way he cannot sleep without a knife under his pillow and two wands on his arms, the manner in which, whenever they go out to eat, he unconsciously chooses the easiest defended, least dangerous table on instinct alone.

For that and nothing more, he will not, he cannot forgive Albus Dumbledore.

But Albus has not hurt others the way he has hurt him. And so, he will continue to be worshipped. And those that worship him will never know, will never hear, will never see, his other face, his other mask.

And in the privacy of his mind, during the dark of the night, he bows his head and lets the thought that are too heavy for the light of day, that are too painful or hurtful or angry to let out where anyone can see, out. And he thinks that the greatest folly of the Wizarding world isn't that they didn't fight back when Voldemort came, but rather that the let such a man be born. That each and every person there think as all Dark, as all Light, as all evil and all good and all perfect or all not.

And so, he bows his head and vows to remember the past, so the past cannot be forgotten.

So the past will not be lost.

So that the sacrifice of the only man he has ever truly, truly loved with his whole heart will not be in vain.

So that his own sacrifices will not be in vain.

So that his children will never have to make such sacrifices.

So that the world will never have to face such a man.

So that no one will ever have to face the choice, that precipice between love and fear ever again.

That is why he remembers. And that is also why he forgets.

Fin.