Le Malfoy de Mauvaise Foi

I am Draco Malfoy. Pure of blood, I have riches beyond dreams. The pride of Slytherin and ferret extraordinaire.

Unknown to most, I possess several redeeming qualities. I am loyal to what is mine, hold values close to my heart, and I believe in right and wrong. But, opposed to you, I believe in Voldemort! I believe in pure-blood lines. I believe that in this world you have to survive, because, believe me...evil always prevails. At least that is what my father always told me. But lately I've been wondering.

My father once told me that we live in black and white. That good will always try to triumph over evil, but when all is said and done, evil prevails. And if we do not want to buckle under it, do not want to become a victim of history, that we must prevail...not matter what the cost. We Malfoys survive! And to survive, we must follow our history. I never dared to tell him, after hours spent perusing the history books, that the Malfoys had barely survived. Always, we chose the coward's way out, with only our ancestral name sparing us from extinction. We Malfoys prided ourselves on stealth and on cunning. But we Malfoys were but puppets! Who hanged on to the coattails of each new Dark Lord, which would spring up over the centuries.

As you can probably tell, at this point of my life, I was greatly disillusioned. My fathers' words now meant little to me. They gave me no comfort, and now my father was in Azkaban, they merely showed me the follies of being a mere puppet. With my father now gone, I was forced to re-evaluate my life. I chose not to follow. A follower, I would not be. I had to lead! After years of puppetry, my task was to bring the Malfoy name back into contention.

I would lead.

I would prevail!

But which side should I lend my service to that was the question. And as I pondered, I watched Potter...

To join him or to corrupt him that was the question and, as my sixth year at Hogwarts began, I pondered and watched, as a dark despondency grew in his eyes.

His bright green eyes that faltered as guilt eroded at his soul.

Harry Potter! How I hated him! How I envied him!

Harry had rebuffed my hand in friendship, beaten me at every single game of Quidditch, and was the saviour of the wizarding world. Oh, how I hated him! Harry was everything I wanted to be and everything I wasn't allowed to be. Harry had been my nemesis from the day he was born; father had made sure of that. Not that I had minded. I hated Harry. I had been born to hate Harry!

And now the burning question was....

Whether I was to aid him and change my Slytherin colours, giving myself over to the light or to hinder and distort him, bringing him over to the void.

Oh, what decisions I had to make and, oh, what fun I would have making them. The oncoming year would be interesting, very interesting indeed.

I am Draco Malfoy and this year I will succeed.