They didn't want me, though. They wanted you with my manners and willingness to comply and jump through whatever hoops they wanted for a scrap of affection. Over and over and over, no matter how many times it hadn't panned out in the past. You wised up to it before I even got the chance to. That's all.
I do remember. I try not to think about it, really. The trunk was full of old keepsake clothes. I can only assume it was our great-great someone's trousseau because there was a wedding dress and veil and elaborate jewels and the like in it. Kreacher helped me open it before I left. I didn't want to go without knowing.
I suppose I played my part in this as well, being spiteful and childish. But it just hurt too much. You were so happy. Happier than I wanted you to be. For someone who had supposedly lost everything, I never once saw you (barring certain circumstances which I would rather never be discussed again) when you weren't laughing and joking and having a grand old time. But that's all trivial, I suppose, all things considered, and silly of me to hold against you.