My last day at Hogwarts. A cold unfriendly breeze whipped my scarf
right across my cheek, making it feel suddenly sore. I tried to rub it
soothingly while kicking my trunk towards the Hogwarts Express.
Although I was free forever from homework and quizzes and those nosy Gryffindor losers, I felt a very heavy weight on my chest.
It has been almost three weeks since Lord Voldemort's final downfall. Harry Potter, together with Albus Dumbledore and the power of all the Aurors in the Ministry of Magic, all the skilled wizards and witches, combined their power in order to stop Lord Voldemort and all his supporters. But they had to pay at a terrible price. Ron Weasley, Potter and Granger's best friend, died in the ordeal.
The whole wizarding world was rejoicing but they overlooked the death of a boy whose life was so uselessly taken away.
I saw Potter and Hermione Granger loading their trunks into their compartments. Even though her face was hidden by her hair, which looked uncombed and unruly, I could see tears brimming up in her red, swollen eyes. Hermione's hands were shaking as she took hold of the compartment handle and swung it open. I watched her take a last long look at the castle. She seemed as if she didn't want to leave from the place where she was standing. I saw Potter tap her on her shoulder. Potter looked ashen and stunned. His jaw was locked in an agonized sort of angle while his eyes drooped as if he had been crying. She jumped a bit as if woken from a trance. With a heavy sigh, she climbed up into the compartment. Then I watched Potter who was now staring at the Hogwarts castle, standing as Granger had done. Then I saw Hagrid, the hairy giant. He saw Potter and gave him a brisk pat on the back. Potter swung around and as soon as he saw Hagrid he gave Hagrid a fierce embrace. I could see silent tears falling from the giant's tired, black eyes. Then Hermione emerged from the compartment, running towards the giant and Potter. The giant pulled her into a strong embrace.
I could see Granger's shoulders shaking. She seemed to be saying something in harsh, short breaths. I watched as her knees buckle. I watched Potter blink back his tears as he watched Hermione and Hagrid. Some people were also watching the scene, apparently pitying them. Finally, Hagrid pushed Granger away. She was sobbing quite hysterically now. Potter took hold of her and led her into the compartment. He gave Hagrid a final wave and closed the door. I saw the giant smile through his tangled beard and wave back.
Then I boarded the train.
**************
Eleven years had passed. Eleven long years passed me by since my last day at Hogwarts. But I could remember that scene as if it had happened yesterday. I played it again and again and again in my head, trying to make sense about it. To make sense about why, for the first time in my life, I felt sympathy and deep understanding for Harry Potter and Hermione Granger's loss.
I was haunted by the dead look in Granger's eyes. I felt guilty, as if Weasley's blood was on my hands. My father was one of the people who murdered him. And I was destined to be part of his circle. Although it has been eleven years since Lord Voldemort's final downfall, there were some of his supporters left. And my father was one of them.
Our manor was full of Dark Arts. When I was young, I did like having them around. But now, I feel a chilling, evil feeling whenever I enter our manor. That's why I never go home often. I tell my father that I work at the ministry overtime. My father has become an old man but he was still powerful. If I'm not too careful, he curses me with the Cruciatus curse. I withstand the agony, only to suffer again if I pay no heed to his evil orders. I know what people think. Draco Malfoy, the son of Lucius Malfoy, a young evil at brew. When I was still young and mindless, I followed my father everywhere he went and whatever he tells me to do, I obey. But now, I wanted to change my ways. I feel so alone, so scared and vulnerable. My father cares not for me. He cares about himself and how he will be able to save himself.
And now, I am praying for an answer that someday it will come to me why I felt such pity for the people who I must normally would have scathed. I was fearing the possibility that my father may find out about my hidden "kindness". Right now, he must have inklings of why I wasn't coming home. My father is an intelligent man. Intelligent, strong but heartless and brutal.
Once he learns that I have chosen not to join the Dark side, then he would have to kill me.
Although I was free forever from homework and quizzes and those nosy Gryffindor losers, I felt a very heavy weight on my chest.
It has been almost three weeks since Lord Voldemort's final downfall. Harry Potter, together with Albus Dumbledore and the power of all the Aurors in the Ministry of Magic, all the skilled wizards and witches, combined their power in order to stop Lord Voldemort and all his supporters. But they had to pay at a terrible price. Ron Weasley, Potter and Granger's best friend, died in the ordeal.
The whole wizarding world was rejoicing but they overlooked the death of a boy whose life was so uselessly taken away.
I saw Potter and Hermione Granger loading their trunks into their compartments. Even though her face was hidden by her hair, which looked uncombed and unruly, I could see tears brimming up in her red, swollen eyes. Hermione's hands were shaking as she took hold of the compartment handle and swung it open. I watched her take a last long look at the castle. She seemed as if she didn't want to leave from the place where she was standing. I saw Potter tap her on her shoulder. Potter looked ashen and stunned. His jaw was locked in an agonized sort of angle while his eyes drooped as if he had been crying. She jumped a bit as if woken from a trance. With a heavy sigh, she climbed up into the compartment. Then I watched Potter who was now staring at the Hogwarts castle, standing as Granger had done. Then I saw Hagrid, the hairy giant. He saw Potter and gave him a brisk pat on the back. Potter swung around and as soon as he saw Hagrid he gave Hagrid a fierce embrace. I could see silent tears falling from the giant's tired, black eyes. Then Hermione emerged from the compartment, running towards the giant and Potter. The giant pulled her into a strong embrace.
I could see Granger's shoulders shaking. She seemed to be saying something in harsh, short breaths. I watched as her knees buckle. I watched Potter blink back his tears as he watched Hermione and Hagrid. Some people were also watching the scene, apparently pitying them. Finally, Hagrid pushed Granger away. She was sobbing quite hysterically now. Potter took hold of her and led her into the compartment. He gave Hagrid a final wave and closed the door. I saw the giant smile through his tangled beard and wave back.
Then I boarded the train.
**************
Eleven years had passed. Eleven long years passed me by since my last day at Hogwarts. But I could remember that scene as if it had happened yesterday. I played it again and again and again in my head, trying to make sense about it. To make sense about why, for the first time in my life, I felt sympathy and deep understanding for Harry Potter and Hermione Granger's loss.
I was haunted by the dead look in Granger's eyes. I felt guilty, as if Weasley's blood was on my hands. My father was one of the people who murdered him. And I was destined to be part of his circle. Although it has been eleven years since Lord Voldemort's final downfall, there were some of his supporters left. And my father was one of them.
Our manor was full of Dark Arts. When I was young, I did like having them around. But now, I feel a chilling, evil feeling whenever I enter our manor. That's why I never go home often. I tell my father that I work at the ministry overtime. My father has become an old man but he was still powerful. If I'm not too careful, he curses me with the Cruciatus curse. I withstand the agony, only to suffer again if I pay no heed to his evil orders. I know what people think. Draco Malfoy, the son of Lucius Malfoy, a young evil at brew. When I was still young and mindless, I followed my father everywhere he went and whatever he tells me to do, I obey. But now, I wanted to change my ways. I feel so alone, so scared and vulnerable. My father cares not for me. He cares about himself and how he will be able to save himself.
And now, I am praying for an answer that someday it will come to me why I felt such pity for the people who I must normally would have scathed. I was fearing the possibility that my father may find out about my hidden "kindness". Right now, he must have inklings of why I wasn't coming home. My father is an intelligent man. Intelligent, strong but heartless and brutal.
Once he learns that I have chosen not to join the Dark side, then he would have to kill me.
