So young and innocent arrive these children entrusted each year to my care.
For me to mold and teach about a world many never even knew was there.
Putty in my hands. That is what I try to convince myself every time that they are.
The truth is, I'm the putty, in hands that can sometimes reach, too often, a bit too far.
I'm here because I need to be. For reasons beyond all rational thought.
The battles I fight outwardly here, pale to the ones no one knows I've fought.
What I do is for the greater good. For the future. For us all.
That's what they keep telling me, what I tell myself, as I look up and down these halls.
The sea of faces that pass me by each day, oblivious to the world out there.
They part as I pass. Avoiding my eyes. Moving quickly to get, well, I suppose anywhere.
They hate me. These children I teach. This much I do know.
Its better that way, I think. One loss the less should I fail next time I go.
Loss? That's a good one. It could almost make me laugh to think they would ever mourn me.
No, they would be relieved and happy. They'd say good riddance.' they would think they'd been set free.
They think I'm mean and cruel and unfair. And they're right. I most certainly am.
I must show them, teach them how to live in a world that at times just doesn't give a damn.
Would they, could they, ever believe, that deep down I really do care? Or understand why I have to keep it inside?
If they knew what I really do for them, not merely teach potions. But the things I have to hide.
For once, just once to hear someone say We're glad for all you do'. The things you've taught to us, the battles you've fought for us, we're honored to know you'.
Such praise is not given to the likes of me. It never will and it never has been.
In all my years. In all my life. I know no matter what the fight, I'll never truly win.
And yet I keep going. Keep fighting, keep teaching, pushing them on in spite of it all.
Its painful to watch them, their happiness and glee. Wishing one would fall.
To fall from grace. The hero undone. Would he face the truths of his life? I think not.
And yet I protect him like he were my own. Just why I wonder myself quite a lot.
I risk my life time and time yet again. For those who would rather see me dead and gone.
For revenge? Retribution? Redemption? I suppose all these are what keeps me going on.
I sit in my chair looking out over Great Hall and wonder if it will be worth it all in the end.
Will I always be the hated one, the one unloved, a life full of enemies, undeserved of a friend.
They're pathetic in their drive. Disgusting in their enthusiasm. Completely annoying in their youth.
They have it all but want more none the less. Blinded by the delusion of what they perceive as the truth.
But faithful I am and faithfully I serve the one to whom I owe too much.
And the things that I do, for the things I've done, will have to be my reward, as such.
So as another day draws to a close in this castle I call my home.
I prepare for the other part of my life, and the fears that I struggle with on my own.
My greatest fear may be that the day comes when I have finally succeeded.
And then I will be the one who is now no longer needed.
For me to mold and teach about a world many never even knew was there.
Putty in my hands. That is what I try to convince myself every time that they are.
The truth is, I'm the putty, in hands that can sometimes reach, too often, a bit too far.
I'm here because I need to be. For reasons beyond all rational thought.
The battles I fight outwardly here, pale to the ones no one knows I've fought.
What I do is for the greater good. For the future. For us all.
That's what they keep telling me, what I tell myself, as I look up and down these halls.
The sea of faces that pass me by each day, oblivious to the world out there.
They part as I pass. Avoiding my eyes. Moving quickly to get, well, I suppose anywhere.
They hate me. These children I teach. This much I do know.
Its better that way, I think. One loss the less should I fail next time I go.
Loss? That's a good one. It could almost make me laugh to think they would ever mourn me.
No, they would be relieved and happy. They'd say good riddance.' they would think they'd been set free.
They think I'm mean and cruel and unfair. And they're right. I most certainly am.
I must show them, teach them how to live in a world that at times just doesn't give a damn.
Would they, could they, ever believe, that deep down I really do care? Or understand why I have to keep it inside?
If they knew what I really do for them, not merely teach potions. But the things I have to hide.
For once, just once to hear someone say We're glad for all you do'. The things you've taught to us, the battles you've fought for us, we're honored to know you'.
Such praise is not given to the likes of me. It never will and it never has been.
In all my years. In all my life. I know no matter what the fight, I'll never truly win.
And yet I keep going. Keep fighting, keep teaching, pushing them on in spite of it all.
Its painful to watch them, their happiness and glee. Wishing one would fall.
To fall from grace. The hero undone. Would he face the truths of his life? I think not.
And yet I protect him like he were my own. Just why I wonder myself quite a lot.
I risk my life time and time yet again. For those who would rather see me dead and gone.
For revenge? Retribution? Redemption? I suppose all these are what keeps me going on.
I sit in my chair looking out over Great Hall and wonder if it will be worth it all in the end.
Will I always be the hated one, the one unloved, a life full of enemies, undeserved of a friend.
They're pathetic in their drive. Disgusting in their enthusiasm. Completely annoying in their youth.
They have it all but want more none the less. Blinded by the delusion of what they perceive as the truth.
But faithful I am and faithfully I serve the one to whom I owe too much.
And the things that I do, for the things I've done, will have to be my reward, as such.
So as another day draws to a close in this castle I call my home.
I prepare for the other part of my life, and the fears that I struggle with on my own.
My greatest fear may be that the day comes when I have finally succeeded.
And then I will be the one who is now no longer needed.