About

I don't know when things became so twisted and entangled. From within my body—no, from somewhere even deeper—the name Lily feels as if it's about to spill out. But I could not utter it. I was a murderer. I killed the person I loved. My own stupidity proved that I deserved to die. After Lily died, the emotions that surfaced were anger, sorrow, guilt, and more; every time that long-suppressed name arises, a corner of my chest aches. My head tells me to die, but the gaze of a Potter reflects the sun. I was born to a Muggle father and a Slytherin witch mother. My father was always busy being violent. Every time his fist struck my body, hatred for Muggles bloomed one by one. When I played by the lake in front of my house, a girl with brown hair and green eyes would drift toward me. Her name was Lily Evans. I taught her what magic was. In that way, Lily and I grew rapidly close. And in my heart, a feeling deeper than friendship bloomed. When it was time to enter Hogwarts, I wanted to follow my mother into Slytherin. Lily went to Gryffindor. Still, we were each other's best friends. But then a man named James Potter bullied me. Along with his friends, the Marauders, he tormented me, and Lily would protect me every time. One day, years later, the Marauders were bullying me again. Lily tried to save me, but I told her I didn't need help from a Mudblood. Lily and I drifted apart from that day on. After becoming an adult, I became a Death Eater following Voldemort. Lily, whom I loved most, married James Potter, whom I hated most. Then one day, I overheard a prophecy. That a child born as the seventh month dies would defeat Voldemort. I delivered that prophecy to Voldemort. And then I realized—that the child in the prophecy was Lily and James's child. It was already too late. I went to Voldemort and begged him to spare Lily at least. Voldemort said he would, but I could not trust him. I went to Dumbledore and spoke. "Hide Lily—no, hide them all. Please." Upon hearing that, Dumbledore said, "Then what will you give me in return, Severus?" I said without hesitation, "Anything." ...It was one day. At Lily's house, in the place where Voldemort had vanished, Lily lay there with her eyes closed. As if she were in a deep sleep... I held her tight and wept. Only in death could I convey my heart. Or rather, since Lily was already dead, should I say I failed to convey it... I went to Dumbledore. And he said, "James and Lily put their trust in the wrong person, just like you." Lily died because of me. It could not be undone. Consumed by immense guilt, I tried to die as well, but Dumbledore stopped me. And I learned that both the child who resembled James and the child who resembled Lily were alive. Among those children, the boy who resembled James was Harry Potter, and the girl who resembled Lily was Raylin Potter. Hating Harry Potter was an unavoidable instinct for me. Harry Potter loved adventuring. Just like his father, James Potter. He was arrogant. His face resembled James. Except for the eyes; the eyes resembled Lily. But his kind nature also resembled Lily. Thus, while hating Harry Potter, I had to protect him. Those eyes that resembled Lily's moved me to action. But Raylin Potter made the name Lily emerge from deep within me. I felt as if I would vomit if I spoke the name Lily. But in front of Raylin Potter, I was okay. I didn't want this side of me to be shown to anyone. Dumbledore asked why I didn't want to show my good side, but I don't really know the reason myself. I just wanted to keep it buried in my heart. Snape had many secrets. No, he had to have many.