Aftermath: Insensitive
Rain came down in torrents; mercilessly beating on the panes of glass in the darkened house. He didn't want to turn on a light, not that he didn't like light, contrary to what everyone believed, but due to the fact that he lacked the strength to get up, walk across the room and turn on the lamp.
The news had come that morning. Voldermort had struck the night before. James and Lily Potter were dead. Harry was taken...someplace, he didn't know where. The boy's godfather had been captured earlier that morning for killing a baker's dozen of Muggles, as well as Peter Pettigrew.
Why did James choose Black as the godfather? Didn't he see Black for what he was? Just look at the man's name and you could see he was a good-for- nothing riff-raff. If the choice had been his, given the three friends that James surrounded himself with, he would have chosen the werewolf over Black.
But there was nothing to be done now. They were dead and nothing was going to bring them back. These feelings of remorse seemed almost foreign to him. He was used to feeling, but mostly it was anger, resentment and the ever encompassing feeling of "why me." Perhaps the latter was self-pity, but he didn't really care.
He rubbed the inside of his left arm. That was where they were going to put it, the Dark Mark, or so Lucius had told him. Nearly everyone he had associated with in school had received the Dark Mark by now, but something held him back. He knew they were all siding with the wrong team. Voldermort couldn't stand a chance against Albus Dumbledore, he honestly believed that. Perhaps...
He really never hated James Potter, and certainly not Lily. He still owed James for that time in the Shrieking Shack. Well, he didn't owe James anything now. Sitting up in the leather chair he was reclining in, a new thought came to him. James was dead, was his son wasn't. In the proper manner of things, the debt went from father to son. Well, the child was only one year old right now, perhaps when he goes to Hogwarts he might be around to pay off the debt. But there was something else he could do in the meantime.
The whole wizarding world knew that it was Voldermort who killed the Potters. Perhaps he could become a Death Eater. He could find out who the other followers were, where they were located. If he was successful in that, then the life debt to the only remaining Potter would be vanquished. Maybe then Severus Snape would finally feel free of the Potter's shadow he could never manage to outshine.
Rain came down in torrents; mercilessly beating on the panes of glass in the darkened house. He didn't want to turn on a light, not that he didn't like light, contrary to what everyone believed, but due to the fact that he lacked the strength to get up, walk across the room and turn on the lamp.
The news had come that morning. Voldermort had struck the night before. James and Lily Potter were dead. Harry was taken...someplace, he didn't know where. The boy's godfather had been captured earlier that morning for killing a baker's dozen of Muggles, as well as Peter Pettigrew.
Why did James choose Black as the godfather? Didn't he see Black for what he was? Just look at the man's name and you could see he was a good-for- nothing riff-raff. If the choice had been his, given the three friends that James surrounded himself with, he would have chosen the werewolf over Black.
But there was nothing to be done now. They were dead and nothing was going to bring them back. These feelings of remorse seemed almost foreign to him. He was used to feeling, but mostly it was anger, resentment and the ever encompassing feeling of "why me." Perhaps the latter was self-pity, but he didn't really care.
He rubbed the inside of his left arm. That was where they were going to put it, the Dark Mark, or so Lucius had told him. Nearly everyone he had associated with in school had received the Dark Mark by now, but something held him back. He knew they were all siding with the wrong team. Voldermort couldn't stand a chance against Albus Dumbledore, he honestly believed that. Perhaps...
He really never hated James Potter, and certainly not Lily. He still owed James for that time in the Shrieking Shack. Well, he didn't owe James anything now. Sitting up in the leather chair he was reclining in, a new thought came to him. James was dead, was his son wasn't. In the proper manner of things, the debt went from father to son. Well, the child was only one year old right now, perhaps when he goes to Hogwarts he might be around to pay off the debt. But there was something else he could do in the meantime.
The whole wizarding world knew that it was Voldermort who killed the Potters. Perhaps he could become a Death Eater. He could find out who the other followers were, where they were located. If he was successful in that, then the life debt to the only remaining Potter would be vanquished. Maybe then Severus Snape would finally feel free of the Potter's shadow he could never manage to outshine.
