A boy stood in front of a scratched and faded mirror, a concoction of regret and loneliness overwhelmed him, though these could not drown out the utter repulsion he felt at what he saw. He sighed pathetically as he ran his bony fingers through the greasy black strands of hair that framed his pallid face. His dark brown eyes appeared black in the light, and as he gazed into that empty abyss he could not help but think of her, of Lily Evans. He pictured her fiery red hair and sparkling emerald eyes so vividly it was as though the figure in the mirror was her, smiling kindly at him like she always did. But her expression switched to the one he had only just witnessed, the smile disappeared and a scowl replaced it; the hatred apparent on her face as red and fiery as the hair on her head. That blasted word began to echo around his mind, "mudblood…mudblood…mudblood…" How stupid he had been to use that word. But then… he could feel it, he knew it was there: that part of him that relished in his cruelty, a voice telling him, "you're better off without that filth". The ruthlessness deep within him was terrifying; the only problem with being extraordinarily skilled at occlumency was that he couldn't hide the dreadful thoughts from himself.