When I started reading Harry Potter this year, the only person I thought I could possibly hate was Voldemort, I mean who doesn’t hate him? But as I continued to read, I realized that I detested Snape just as much as I hated Voldemort and maybe, in some points of time, even more. I used go to bed at night, cursing Snape and wishing that he died. I used tell all these feelings to my sister, who had already read the series of book before. When I used to curse Snape, she used to always tell me to try and not hate Snape because I’d regret it later, but I always laughed it off. Then I reached the later books and it seemed that maybe Snape wasn’t that bad, even though I didn’t love him or something, he was okay. But then he killed Dumbledore, and I made my sister’s poor ears sore by making her listen to how she had told me not to hate Snape that much and what he had ended up doing. I was angry at everyone, Snape, my sister, Dumbledore (Though I don’t know why) but I was. Then I reached the last book, where many more people died along the way, and many more tears were shed from my eyes, and then I came to know that Snape had killed Dumbledore, because Dumbledore had asked him to do so. I was stunned and didn’t know how to react. Later in the book Snape died and that’s when it struck me why my sister used to tell me not to hate Snape. I cried buckets of tears with regret, upset at myself, wondering why I cursed him and why I hated him, and now, he’s gone.
Life is something similar, you have to be be careful what you speak to someone and how you speak to someone, we never know, when it is the last time we’ll meet them, and then we’ll sit and regret just like I did, after Snape died.
Inspired by: Yesterday’s Daily prompt