The Trial on Hidden Deeds
He felt no relief, nor could he rest, though he felt befuddled with the strain. He splashed the icy water from the tap into his eyes, trying to clear his head. Killing the old man did not turn out the way he thought it would. Flashes of that irksome face lurked behind the corners of his mind, threatening to leap into his thoughts any moment he relaxed his guard. When was the last time he had cast the Killing Curse? He remembered that time, but it seemed easy in his recollection. And before that? He remembered that time too.
He looked up. The face of Tobias Snape looked back at him from the mirror. It was the face of a murderer. He knew he was the splitting image of his father. He knew he had the same violent temper, cruelty, meanness of spirit, and brutality as the other. He had grown up and become his father.
The old man had wanted him to do it. Annoying as he usually was, the old man was right. He had been offended; He had wanted to be offended, but when he met the old man's piercing gaze, his offense died within him. Till then, throughout all those years, the old man had never asked him that question.
He was not afraid of the question.
He was afraid of the answer.
Yet each year, he was forced to count. He had to read the backgrounds of his new students. Many were scarred with missing parents or other marks of violence. When the old man looked at him that way, he knew that the old man saw matching marks in his soul.
"Did you feel it?" He asked his father in the mirror. "Did you burn in bitter remorse, knowing that every day it would come, relentlessly, even to your last hour?"
He contemplated the face in the mirror. It was a face he had always hated.
"Did you love my mother? Did you kill the one you love?"
"Did you struggle against your own nature?"
"Did you know it was me?"
"Did you forgive me in the end," he demanded, "or did you curse me to your last breath?"
He was afraid of the answer.