So this is him.
My nemesis.
It is frightfully strange to think that so much damage could have been done by such an insignificant little boy.
Harry Potter.
Of course I know who he is. Who doesn't?
Harry Potter, vanquisher of my Master, Lord Voldemort.
Your scar is legend, I say.
And so it is.
And yet, it is as insignificant as the face of the boy who bears it.
A simple slash of narrow red on a brow marked with contemplation.
Youthful, pale, smeared with ash, he is striking, I must say.
Such pride, such dignified bearing for one so young. Something my son aspires to, yet fails to grasp. Too much pride, too little dignity in him.
Green eyes filled with such loathing, flanked by others filled with the same, beneath red hair.
Amusing really.
They will never be noticed, no matter how many there are.
It is always just him.
So insignificant.