/Shadows/
Betrayal.
It's such a disgusting word, don't you think James? So grainy and terrifying. I'm sure the word has never crossed your mind before though; you had such wonderful friends, such a wonderful life. You didn't need to think about it, although you should've. Prepare for the worst, hope for the best was your motto, wasn't it? You should practice what you preach, though, it might do you some good, James.
It might've done some good with me.
I know I wasn't the greatest of all of you. I was the worst actually, not really part of the team. An alternate, wouldn't you say? If nobody else was there, I was, and I comforted you after all your silly breakups, all your inadequate grades. I was there.
But you weren't.
And then, after your tears had stopped, you'd find Remus or Sirius, joke around a bit, not completely ignoring me, but not really including me, either. You always kept your space, I noticed. Especially after your parents passed away. What a shame. They were nice folks.
Especially your dad. He was a great bloke. He laughed at my jokes. Encouraged you to play with me, when we were young. He didn't like you to exclude anyone. I think he saw what was in my eyes, though, so maybe he just protecting himself, protecting you. I saw his nervous look whenever I came. Your father had the right idea. He hoped for the best, prepared for the worst. Didn't do much good for him, though. I felt bad when I killed him. I really did. All those years, all those games of Quidditch…
What a waste.
But you didn't know it was me. And I was there at your side again. Feigning surprise, trying to pretend like I cared. It's too bad you'll never know what a great actor I am. I convinced you good enough. Patting your shoulder, summoning some tissue boxes for you. It was easy. You had too much trust. You were too honest. You couldn't see something you've never known before. I can't really take credit for all my performance, though. He always helped. The Dark Lord cared for me, too. More than you have at least. Yeah, I was still following someone else's shadow again, but what does it really matter with all the power I had?
That was my first assignment. A test, really. Was I brave enough? He asked. I said Yes, nodded my head, trying to look as loyal as I ever looked in my life. He pointed to a picture of Mr. and Mrs. Potter on the wall, your parents, and I nodded again and I said Yes. He smiled. I will never get used to that smile.
And so you continued being my friend, too trusting to wonder where I go to when I suddenly disappear. You made jokes when I approached you, suddenly, after a Meeting, but you never asked. Maybe that's why my conscience bugged me so much. You were too good a friend.
The Dark Lord wanted you alone, though, if he wanted to kill you. None of your stupid friends hanging around. And then, he decided, why don't I make your life more miserable by tearing you apart? So I did. I kept you apart from your friends. You thought you were too big for them, now. You never realized that perhaps it wasn't a question of maturity.
It's funny, though, how you never noticed it was me, guiding you away from them. Oh , yes, I put on such a convincing performance, I almost expected an encore. I said, You've Outgrown Them, and you said, Yeah. I patted your back once again, listening to your pathetic woes. I Miss Them, you said, and I said, I Know.
You looked at me and smiled, and you said, At Least I Have You.
At least. But it's funny. You gave me what could've protected you before. Your care. Your attention. But it's too late. And that's what made it all the more meaningful, helping the Dark Lord kill you.
So I became depressed for a while, wondering how I was going to let the Dark Lord kill you, but then realized it wasn't my choice and I wasn't the one who was doing it, so I didn't care. You never were there for me anyway, why should I be there for you?
Oh, you moped, but I distracted you. The Dark Lord wanted you alone until your wedding, maybe until you've had your baby. He wanted to take everything away from you. He wanted to make Lily watch you die. He wanted you to suffer.
That's how He always was.
I never really asked why. I was like that. You would know best wouldn't you, James? You were the one who always kept me in your shadows. You thought of me more as a prop, a stage person, not really an actor. But, oh, what an actor I was.
And so, I kept you apart, I pulled you away from THEM and you didn't notice it, you didn't notice until they forgot about you, until you felt embarrassed around them. Until the Marauder's were no more.
Am I sorry? Oh, no. It's not a question of sorry. Oh no, no, no, no. Am I proud? Yes….no…it's not question of pride either.
It's a question of friendship. You lead me, James, you lead me into a dark tunnel and left me there. Made me think you'd come back. Made me think I have some decent friends. That's the problem, James. That you thought you can take advantage of me, that you thought I was nothing but a pathetic, vulnerable rat that you can play around with, mess with. I may have been all that, but what really kicks it, is that you thought it and wanted to take advantage of it.
So am I doing this for you? For revenge? No. It seems like it, doesn't it? But no. That's not what it is at all. I'm doing it for me. For me and every other fat, pathetic kid that gets bloody tricked by the illusion that they could be something bigger. Something greater. I might've been better off alone and pathetic then with you bloody idiots for friends. That was your mistake, James. Picking me up and then letting me down.
But today the Dark Lord needs me. He needs me. He. Needs. Me. I don't have time to think about you or your bloody friends. Oh no. I've got work to do.
And I am standing in front of the Dark Lord and he is smiling the smile I will never get used to except now it is scarier and angrier and he is not happy with me, I can tell. But I bow my head, pretend I can't tell, don't know what is going on.
But I do. And I can feel it. That you've gone back to them, that you've left me alone again. And as much as I hate you and as much as I love planning your demise, I can't help but feel a little hurt.
