Recognition

There were few who recognised my talent, who saw me for what I was. I told them what I would be and do, and I saw them smile or turn away. I saw them point and giggle as I passed them in the corridors. They were jealous. I did not let it bother me.

In my fifth year I met someone who saw my worth. He was older than me, a Slytherin in his final year at school. A Pureblood, already rumoured to be a follower of You Know Who. It was in my interests to make friends with such people, for it seemed in those days that their side was in the ascendant. Friends in high places were essential to someone with my ambitions.

But it was more than simple ambition that drew me to him. He was athletic, reasonably clever, good-looking in a very different way from myself, and not too popular. We met in different places – the Astronomy Tower, empty classrooms, once or twice outside by the lake, and our love making was sometimes frantic and hurried and sometimes languid and drawn out. His moods were unpredictable, and I found that exciting.

Our liaison was not widely known, but it pleased me, and I believe gave pleasure to him too. It was difficult to tell – there was always an air of quiet desperation in him, which I did not think was entirely due to his feelings of unworthiness when I was with him.

He ended our relationship before the end of the school year, telling me that he had merely been using me, and that my vanity had made it simple for him. It was a lie of course. He was not clever enough to have deceived me in such a way, and I was far from being vain. Any pride I had was well regulated, a result of my talents and achievements.

He was dead within months. It was rumoured that You Know Who had had him killed. I was glad then of the distance between us. I had my future to think of.