Chapter Two
Pure & Proud
Chapter Two: Draco Malfoy
A Letter to the Ministry of Magic
Story by Desslok
November 2002
I have prepared this statement, as you have requested, in the hopes that you will finally allow me to return to my home in England. I presume that the AutoQuill you have provided works properly. If it does not, I shall not be held accountable. I have enough of my own mistakes to correct and no time to suffer the mistakes of others.
You have asked for an accounting of my life since I left Hogwarts on that sordid evening so long ago, when Professor Snape killed our Headmaster and dragged me out of the tower. I imagine you will compare this statement to those in my official file, perhaps in one last attempt to mine hidden secrets from me, to see where the accounts differ. I assure you that they will not. The events of that night and all the years that followed are seared upon my mind and have not faded with time. Still, I am not ignorant. I understand the power dynamics of any situation. I am the beggar at the gates and thus will prostrate myself.
Snape commanded me to leave. I believe he expected me to do one of two things: return to the Dark Lord’s headquarters or else to return home to my mother. One of many lessons I learned that night, indeed the first lesson I learned, was that I had far too long meekly acquiesced to the expectations of those above me. Perhaps I had thought to evade responsibility for my own sins through mindless obedience. Perhaps I was indeed a coward. We are all fools at that age. I’d always known I was surrounded by fools, but that night I realized that I was one as well.
Rather than do either of those things, I went to an old hunting lodge in the country that I recalled from my youth, one of many Malfoy properties. We had visited it when I was a child, maybe six or seven years old. Mother found it far too rustic and Father did not like to be so far from the centers of power. Now, I spent a week in the lodge, preparing myself. I knew that I had to leave the country. No one would ever know that I had lowered my wand that night. I’m sure none of you believe it to this day. You think that I was too scared to fight in the war on either side, so I fled both. I will not say I never knew fear. I will say, however, that my fear is not what drove my decision. I chose not to fulfill my mission. I chose to spare Dumbledore’s life. Snape obliterated that decision. I shan't forgive him for that.
In any case, as I have stated, I left England, beginning my first exile voluntarily. Though I was admittedly a fool, I was not stupid. I was and remain a Malfoy, with all that that entails. Long ago I had decided to funnel some of the vast Malfoy wealth into private accounts for my own use. I will not dwell on the details of my childhood, but suffice it to say that I had realized the possibility that events might restrict my access to the normal family assets and bank accounts. I toyed with the idea of contacting my minions Crabbe or Goyle, but ultimately chose not to do so. The imbeciles had nothing to offer, but might have caused trouble. I did not miss them at all. For the first few months, I actually reveled in the solitude. No one knew me on the roads I traveled across the continent. I basked in the lack of expectation. True, I regretted my actions that year, the actions that led to Dumbledore's death. I still, however, take pride in my success. None of them ever suspected me and I accomplished something that no one ever had. I penetrated the most secure fortress in all of Wizarddom. Perhaps you will say that it is wrong to take pride in that, but I shall not lie or hide myself behind false modesty. Take that as you will.
I am not ashamed to admit that it was guilt which brought my first exile to an end. The memories of that night on the tower haunted me and I knew that I would never know peace until I had atoned for my sin. I was not stupid enough to believe that anyone amongst the all-holy “Order” would forgive me or allow me to fight alongside them. Nor would I have wanted to enlist in the fawning legions of Potterphiles. Neither, though, would I give my life for my father's prejudices or mad desire for power. I was truly a man alone, so I took as my example the lesson of that half-animal madman, the only other one I knew who was equally reviled by both sides of the war. Unlike Black, however, I submitted to my fate willingly. I returned to England, turned myself in at the Ministry, and allowed myself to be placed in Azkaban.
Oh yes, you all tried so very hard to get me to divulge my family's secrets, to place an even larger target upon my own head by selling out everyone I had ever known. I do not regret holding my tongue. I took responsibility for my own actions, confessed to my own sins, and served the penance that I had earned. It was a small mercy that neither Potter nor any of his brood had time to participate in the trial.
I shall not speak of the year spent in Azkaban, except to say this. None who enter there leave the same person.
When I was released, I once again went into exile, though this time the choice was not my own. Since that day, I have visited most parts of the Wizarding world in Europe and Asia. I have met many people and done many things, none of which are germaine to this missive. I am told that the Ministry has decided in its infinite wisdom that I might be allowed to return to my home, to take possession of the Malfoy estate in the absence of my thrice-damned father.
The only crime I have ever committed was to assist in the invasion of Hogwarts. I have never stolen, never raped, never performed senseless acts of destruction. Unlike most of the “heroes” of the War, I have never killed. Assign your watchdogs, cast your spells, do what you will. You will find that I am no foe of England. Unless, that is, it has become a crime to dislike that arrogant, spoiled git Harry Potter. If so, I suspect I shall ever remain in exile.
I look forward to your verdict.
Sincerely,
Draco Malfoy
Art: A Portrait of Draco Malfoy
Chapter Three: Pansy Parkinson ~ Make My Tea