I know that I am not perfect.
I have made mistakes. I have treated those who trust me as pawns; I have loved when I should have stayed without emotion. I have over-assumed and under-assumed, I have trusted those who could not be, and I have mistrusted those who, above all else, should have had my loyal support. I have chosen favorites in my school. I have withheld information for the sake of withholding it, when it would have been much better for all involved to have shared my knowledge.
I see that now, and I accept that, for I cannot change what has already come and gone. It is outstanding, what one sees when one is dead.
"Albus?"
Turning, I take in the vibrant red hair and familiar green eyes of Lily Potter. I cannot meet her gaze. Death has reminded me of many things - things that I would rather have left forgotten, buried with the bodies of those that suffered from my mistakes. I think of her son, her secret-keeper, her husband, her husband's best friend. Of all the people I have wronged, she and her son have suffered the most...
"I am sorry. So, so sorry." Grief holds my heart. I weep without remorse, without bothering to hide my weakness.
The soft rustle of grass announces her movement, and I can just vaguely see her blurred shape through my tears. For a moment, she says nothing, and I wait for her condemnation.
Instead she takes my hand and places something in it.
A lemon drop.
"There is nothing to forgive," she whispers, and then she is gone, off to find her husband in the radiant sunlight of death.
I am not perfect, but I have seen how close a fellow human can get to perfection. And in the light of her eyes, I was perfect.