The Last Potion
The Last Potion
xmlns=\"http://www.w3.org/TR/REC-html40\">
Dear Professor,
I suppose I had been warned about your ruthless
behaviour. The older students on the Hogwarts Express had told me all about
you. They called you a monster. They told me you hated Muggles, children and
benevolence. I was once all of that. Born to Muggle parents, a girl of eleven
years and a friend to all. Perhaps that’s why I didn’t believe a Hogwarts
professor could be all that they had described. However, it didn’t matter then
what you were like. I didn’t know you and I certainly didn’t know how much my
heart would cry out for you later that year.
If I had only heard onmplemple word spoken from your
lips before that fateful September night, my life would be so much different
than it is today. I’d have begged the Sorting Hat to place me where you’d be
likely to appreciate me. It would have been me there sitting at that table with
the rest of the Slytherin House once again celebrating the triumph we’d
achieved over the last school year. If I’d been sorted into the Slytherin
House, then perhaps it would be me you were looking at when your hands clapped
together in high approval and that proud grin appeared on your face. Every year
since I came to Hogwarts they’ve won the House Cup. It’s no surprise. I can
easily understand how badly they work throughout the year to make you proud.
I’ve worked so hard over the years to impress you, but not because it was a
House Pointed I sought after, it was simply your attention and admiration I
wanted - if only for a moment. You never once gave Ravenclaw a point for my
accomplishments nor did you once give me the satisfaction of a simple rewarding
acknowledgement.
Instead you shunned me like a foul, rotten
scoundrel. Each time we passed each other in the corridors my heart would pound
and I would smile as I greeted you. In return you only scowled at me as if I
were a foul stench caught between your lips and nose. Little did you know how
much it hurt me to see you stare so coldly at me when all I wanted was to hear
you whisper my name. Do you really even know my name? You haven’t spoken it
since the roll call at the beginning of my very first Potions class. The last
thing I expected to happen when I heard you speak my name was to fall in love
with you. I suppose I didn’t that very day, but soon afterward. You first
enchanted me with that faint velvet whisper that is your voice, then your
effortless ability to captivate my full attention struck my heart with fire…
and then I fell in love with you. For seven years I waited patiently to hear
you speak my name again. You never did.
If I had known then, during my very first Potions
class, that I would never again hear my name slip off your tongue I probably
never would have allowed myself to fall in love with you. I was a fool to let
my heart slip away so easily. You’ve done nothing to earn my love. You didn’t
ask for me to love you and I certainly didn’t ask to fall in love with you. I
just did.
If I had the power to make it all untrue, I would.
But I’ve waited too long. For seven years I waited hoping that one day you’d see
me the way I wanted you to see me. I’m such a fool!
you ever look at me as I had devotedly stared at you. How could you not have
seen the hunger in my eyes each time I looked at you? It was so obvious I loved
you. I wish I didn’t, but it’s too late now. I’m in love with you and there’s
nothing I can do to stop it.
see you again. You’ll never know how much I loved you or how much you hurt me
by not knowing it. Summer will along and you’ll forget I even existed. There
are no memories of you and I to remember me by. I was only the quiet little
Ravenclaw who sat in the middle of the Potions classroom and did nothing more
than the work you gave me. I didn’t cause trouble, I didn’t foul up my recipes
and I certainly didn’t talk about you behind your back like the rest of my
classmates. On occasion, I even heard your own House speaking vulgarly of you.
faithful to you, things would be so much different. Instead of leaving tomorrow
with nothing more to remember you by than your marking on my work, I would
leave knowing that you meant it when you shook my hand and congratulated me for
all the wonderful work I had done for you. But your hand will never touch mine.
I’ll never again look into your deep dark eyes and see the emptiness I so much
wanted to fill. You’ll never look into my eyes again and see the adoring love
and passion I feel for you.
for a life without you that will be far less painful than the life I’ve lived
with you.