Harry James Potter

12 Grimmauld Place

London, United Kingdom

9/ February/ 1999

Mr Potter,

The very act that I am even answering this missive suggest that my acuity is indeed slipping. At any rate, I suppose it is only a matter of time before my sanity is dependent on your nonsensical blathering as respite from the madness which total isolation often bestows.

A Slytherin dependent on a Gryffindor for stability of his faculties? I find the world as I know it is indeed coming to an end.

It is almost with comedic irony that I use to embrace the solitude which you seek so profusely; for that same element is now my bitter enemy as each lonely day bleeds into the next with excruciating slowness. I have become proficient in reading the passage of time not only by the small slice of light which passes through my infinitesimal window, but also by the fury of the sea which crashes against the stone walls in a perpetual assault. The only sound which allows me some fragment of repose is that of the rain. I sometimes permit myself to imagine I am standing beneath its gentle cascade as pellucid drops wash away the filth which has caked onto my body. I have not been allowed a proper bath since my incarceration in October, and cleansing spells are only invoked once a month. I try to wash by the small basin of stagnant water which is provided weekly, however being shackled makes it a fruitless endeavor.

I suppose the term greasy git can now be applied to my person with absolute certitude.

Why am I even imparting any of this information? I suppose the answer lies in the hopelessness of my situation Mr Potter. When a human being is reduced to execrable behavior just to have fundamental needs met, very little matters anymore. It is befitting for a man whose life is as tainted as his blackened soul.

You audaciously tell me to forgive myself for the heinous acts which I have committed, but even if I did, would it make much of a difference? I was tried and convicted for crimes against humanity including the murder of Albus Dumbledore, who without a doubt was one of the greatest wizards who ever lived. I will never forgive myself for ending the life of a man who was not only a mentor to me, but someone whom I also considered a friend; something I have had so few of in my life.

Imagine yourself casting the Killing Curse on Minerva McGonagall or Miss Granger. Even with the full knowledge that they had somehow acquired a curse that would shortly end their time, could you do it Mr Potter? Could you knowingly take their lives then stand by unflinching as the fire they once exuded, fades from the depths of their eyes?

Could you ever forgive yourself and not consider it murder Mr Potter?

The one solace that makes the choices I have made more bearable is the underlying fact that you are alive. I made a vow to your mother upon her death as well as to myself that I would do everything in my power to keep you safe. As you well know, when Dumbledore finally revealed the truth of his plans, it took all of my powers of Occlumency to control the indignation and betrayal that was coursing through my veins like Fiendfyre. I felt embittered that he had taken my love for your mother as well as the agony I had endured over her death and twisted it to fit his overall scheme. The hardest part to endure was knowing all my years of spying and lying were entirely for naught. You were to die regardless, like a lamb to the slaughter.

I had failed Lily in every sense of the word.

When I killed Dumbledore Mr Potter, those were the very thoughts I used to cast the Avada Kedavra.

Do you still consider me as a good man?

I once asked Dumbledore about my soul, wondering if there might possibly be a small part of my existence worth redemption. His response was that only I could determine whether helping an untainted child as well as putting him out of his self-made misery, was worth the price of my already tarnished soul.

Foolishly, I admit a small part of my heart hoped to hear otherwise, especially from a human being who held such high esteem in my eyes. Reality however quickly set in, and the answer I had dreaded to hear was staring me coldly in the face; it was the same answer my father had beaten into me so often, it became an intrinsic part of the fabric that made up who I became as a man and as a wizard; my worth was measured by the subservience and usefulness I offered others, nothing more. Simply put, I was expendable. It would do well to keep this in mind when you once again fall into saviour mode and attempt to render me a good man.

You inquired if I would begin corresponding with Draco. My initial response would be no, as I am already finding it difficult to maintain our own exchange. My missives are kept short because in addition to the arduous challenge of writing with shackled wrists, I also have very little light in my cell except for what dim rays manage to pass through the continuous darkened skies of the North Atlantic. As you know, I am only allowed writing material on a weekly basis, and what supplies I do garner are minimal at best.

Draco by nature is a highly intuitive person Mr Potter. As I am sure you can understand, he has endured enough loss and pain for one lifetime. The last thing he needs at this moment is to know the extremities to which I am suffering here, especially with the prospect of a fulfilling marriage in his future. I think for the time being, it would be best to keep my interactions with Draco to a minimum. As I recall, you offered to pass on any messages I might have for others. I will take credence in this and ask that you to relay to my godson I am immensely proud of him, and extend only best wishes for him and his intended.

You may find it surprising to learn that I have always considered Draco to be a far superior match for Miss Granger than that of the red haired buffoon. Draco and Miss Granger's highly intellectual standings coupled with their ambitious natures suit well, whereas Mr Weasley would have caused her razor sharp mind to dull from his excessively dim witted observations of life. There is also the undeniable fact that he would have eventually turned the witch into an incessant breeding tool for the next generation of Weasley spawn. I shudder to think of the wasted intelligence that hideous match would have caused.

As for your choice in life, it was not as unexpected as you might think.

Lily was exceptionally good at Potions as I am sure you are well aware. Both of us were part of Slughorn's ridiculous Slug Club. Although the gathering was nothing more than a conspicuous farce to rub elbows with people of influence, there were those select few who acquired entry just for their sheer brilliance in the art of brewing. Your mother and I were part of that rare coterie. Her exceptional talent in Potions gave her a very clear-cut path to fulfill her dream of becoming a Healer, something she spoke of quite often and with great enthusiasm. Due to the circumstances surrounding the war however, and having to retreat into hiding, those dreams were never brought to fruition.

I digress what was most unexpected was that you chose erudition over the quick and effortless road the Ministry was offering you like bait on a hook. I will begrudgingly admit I never expected you to complete your education, let alone sit your N.E.W.T.'s. Your mother would have been exceptionally proud of you Potter and I can only hope that you will continue to further your own expectations; for in doing so you are truly honouring the sacrifice your mother gave for your life.

I wonder if you are aware that you would have to apprentice with an actual Potions master for the last two years of your internship in order to complete the necessary training to become a Healer? Other than myself, (and we both know that is an impossibility), I know of only one other Potions master in Great Britain and he retired after the war. Do you plan on using your influential bravado to persuade him to come out of retirement as you once did, or will you be traveling outside of Britain for the rest of your training? Not that I care Potter, I am merely curious.

Before I close this missive, I will reiterate what I stated last time: forget this ludicrous crusade that you have started to acquire my release. I have done abhorrent acts which warranted my arrest, and it is only adequate that I give restitution for the crimes which I have committed. I may have been serving the light, but that does not excuse my actions, war or not.

As a supposed Slytherin, you should understand exactly what that means.

Severus Snape