Years later, I met her again, for what must have been the first time after my graduation. Though I was captured and she was a free woman, it was still I who triumphed. I had had my revenge. My revenge for a childhood, youth, life without the woman who had given me that very life itself. She had never loved me, even liked me, and for that she had to pay.

I made her pay.

She did not like me, but she did like her "precious little cubs", her Gryffindors. I knew that, through hurting them, I could rip her heart out. And I did not want to rip her heart out, I really did not, and yet I did… Oh to make her feel the loneliness I had felt through all of those years…
It had become a dream of mine, an obsession even, a need that needed to be fulfilled.

It was fulfilled when I caught poor, little, good Frankie Longbottom, that stupid ex-Head Boy with his ridiculous goodness and his idiotic kindness, and his lovely Hufflepuff wife Alice…

I have not killed them, no. As my father has once told me- killing a good solution, but so unoriginal…

I tortured them into the very madness I myself am condemned to life in.

Condemned by her.

And oh yes she was hurt, that darling, fair Minerva Jean McGonagall. I read it in her very eyes- my own eyes- as she sat there, sweetly holding Albus Dumbledore's hand. Always the dependable sidekick, the calm, serious Deputy Headmistress, and yet on that very moment, as judgement was spoken over me and that terribly weak, foolish husband of mine, I read the panic in her eyes and enjoyed it with ever fibre of my being.

So after all she did remember I was her daughter, now didn't she?

It was sheer triumph, sheer, sheer triumph, and so what if I would go to Azbakan, so what if every Dementor that existed on this damned world would rip all so-called "happy thoughts" out of my already soulless heart?

All my thoughts were nightmares, all my dreams were torment.

Because of her.

And oh, my father would not save me, that I knew. He would not risk everything he had to save me, even though I was his only daughter. I daresay he loved me as much as his own dark and deceived soul allowed him to, but there was always my mother who stood between us.

My mother, whose hair, eyes, appearance, brains I have inherited.

My mother, whose despair I have received.

A/N: And this was the second part of the trilogy… expect a third and longer part, "Towards Zero", soon.