I Shook Hands with the Devil

I Shook Hands with the Devil

No regrets. These words I repeated to myself a thousand times over through the course of my childhood, the loss of my innocence, determined that no matter what choices I made, I would be able to look back on them and feel no regret.

I am looking back now, and I realise that the repetition of those words served no purpose in the end. I am sixty-eight years old, and I feel nothing but regret. The decisions I made reflect in the eyes of my daughter and son, and now, their own children. I can ignore my choices no longer.

War is upon us again. I will fight no one but myself.

I was born in London on May 3^rd, 1929 to the most prestigious wizarding family in all of Great Britain, the Malfoys. My childhood was that of both privilege and pain, as I was spoiled at the hands of my mother and ignored by my father. I had three sisters, whom I cherished: Marcelyn, Elvira, and my twin, Gavina. We were a close-knit bunch, always causing trouble in some form or another.

I was brought up to believe that we, the Malfoy family, were not only superior to the rest of the wizarding world but also, first and foremost, to the Muggles and Mudbloods. The concept of "purity of blood" was hammered into my mind from a very young age, and thus my prejudices began.

Fortune smiled upon me when I received my Hogwarts letter and was sorted into Slytherin. Gavina, my beloved sister, was sorted into Hufflepuff and quickly became the shame of the family. No Malfoy had been sorted outside of Slytherin for centuries. They regarded her as a failure, and try as I might to stand by her side, I soon began to drift away from her to gain favour with my father.

The prejudices against Slytherin house did not exist in such strength when I attended, although they intensified as Grindelwald rose to power. I never felt the bigotry, as I was something of a loner, and had no true friends outside of my two Slytherin sisters. I was eternally lonely without Gavina, but soon found the wonders of magic so fascinating that I didn't have time to dwell on our lost relationship.

Classes were easy to me, most notably Potions. I had a talent for composing them, and shot quickly to the top of my class. Teachers admired me, but I ignored them to slip away to my one true love: art.

There was an abandoned part of the Astronomy Tower that students never visited, especially in the winter, so I set up my easel there and would often paint until the sun came up, conjuring fires to keep me warm. In my second year, I learned how to enchant my paintings, and delighted in the way the fog drifted and the stars twinkled within the confines of my canvas. I never told any of the Slytherins where I went when I snuck out of bed for fear they'd tease me. The secrecy of it all was a thrill.

One day in my fifth year, soft footfalls on the stairway up to my haven caused me to panic and spill my paint across the stone floor of the tower. As I frantically attempted to find my wand and erase the mess, a boy, black-haired and sporting a Prefect's badge, walked around me to inspect the half-finished painting I had been working on. Impressed, he offered friendship and I took it without a moment's hesitation.

Tom Riddle introduced me to the dark side of magic, teaching me things that I had only heard rumours of at my father's parties and in the newspapers. Eyes glittering, he told me of a dark wizard named Grindelwald and the battle our Transfiguration professor, Albus Dumbledore, was leading against him. He revealed to me the Restricted Section, taught me the curses, showed me power and beckoned me to follow.

I was a foolish child. Again, without hesitation, I accepted everything he offered me and then some. After awhile, he left me to my own devices and I devoured the darkness by myself. Although I did not realise it then, he had successfully manipulated me until I was nothing but a pawn to him.

And to my eternal shame, I loved every minute of it.

He left Hogwarts in the summer of 1944 and disappeared. He left no clues as to where he had gone, so I waited, immersing myself in my studies and praying that when he returned, he'd be impressed by my improvements. In his absence, my admiration turned to obsession and all I wanted was knowledge and skill, so that he'd see me again and know what a powerful asset I would be to him.

It wasn't until 1947 that I heard from him again. He invited me to Knockturn Alley for a meeting, along with several other Slytherins, many of them that I knew.

One of those Slytherins was Florette Davies, a curly-haired witch with a knack for Herbology. She and I had been partners in sixth year Herbology, and though I did not know it then, she had been smitten with me ever since. She immediately attached herself to me, like a parasite, and I willingly became her host. She was funny and strong, with an almost Gryffindorian sense of loyalty.

Another of these Slytherins was Deirdre Thetford, a girl I had long envied and admired. She was absolutely brilliant, the top of our class, and the only one who could get better marks than I in Potions. She had been Tom's girlfriend since fourth year, and her obsession with him was much stronger than mine.

Deirdre and Tom had changed their names since they had left Hogwarts. Tom went by Lord Voldemort, a mangled version of Tom Marvolo Riddle, and Deirdre by Countess Marie Noir. They were already infamous within dark magic circles, and a few of their crimes had reached the Daily Prophet. They were already so deeply mired in dark magic that it was all they cared about.

Florette, Tom, Deirdre and I led the rest of the followers, forming a tightly knit group hell-bent on overturning the Minister of Magic, putting Tom in charge and massacring all the Muggles and Mudbloods we could lay our hands on. The complete elimination of the Muggle race was what we wanted. Mass genocide.

We consorted with the worst of wizard kind: werewolves, vampires, hags, Dementors, giants, dark creatures. The four of us became unregistered Animagi: Tom and I cats, Deirdre an eagle, and Florette a fox. We underwent various magical transformations to boost our physical and intellectual power. We murdered, we tortured, we bribed, we cajoled, we corrupted.

My greatest accomplishment was not a murder, however. Using my love for art, I designed a tattoo to brand Voldemort's followers with his symbol, the snake. His closest supporters - Wilkes, Rosier, Warrington, Midgen, Figg, Malécrit, Avery, Bell, Hawthorne, Lynch, Kelly, Florette and her brothers, and myself - were marked and called the Dark Serpents. We were those that came before the Death Eaters. Our rule, and Voldemort's rise to power, became legend.

It was during this time that I fell in love with Deirdre. She was beautiful, she was brilliant, she was in every way amazing, and she loved me back--but she wouldn't marry me. Her fear and love of Tom forced her to marr him instead of me, so we kept our feelings secret.

I still remember the time I spent with her so vividly. When Tom went away to pursue "business matters," she'd sneak up to see me, and with her by my side, I'd forget everything but her. Sometimes I can still taste her mouth, smell her skin, see her face . . .

But I felt betrayed by her, and so I married an all-too-willing Florette and she bore me two children, Lucius and Lavinia. They did not feel like my rightful children to me, and so I ignored them, but - and this is perhaps my greatest regret of all - per request of Lord Voldemort, I took Lucius along with me to witness my greatest triumphs. I corrupted my son without a single thought for what I was doing to him, and left my daughter at home with Florette.

After ten years of marriage to Tom, Deirdre left England. Only I knew the reason why, but that is a different story for a different time. I followed her, hell-bent on seeing her arrive safely at her destination. I tracked her all the way to Liverpool, and there I kissed her for the last time.

That kiss still burns on my lips.

With her gone, I fell deeper and deeper into my hatred of Muggles and Mudbloods, and became Voldemort's right-hand man. I loved my position of power, and the (false, I now know) feeling that Tom Riddle, the man I had so long admired, somehow depended on me.

It was disgusting, how I obeyed every order he gave to me with glee. I would have driven a stake through my heart and twisted it with joy if he had asked me to. And indeed, he did ask me too, though not in a literal sense.

When Gavina showed up on my doorstep one day, weeping and begging me to return home, as Marcelyn was deathly ill, I coldly turned her away. Tom came to investigate what the fuss was about, and told Gavina that if she joined us, he would perform the spell to heal Marcelyn. When she refused, he promptly handed my wand to me and told me to kill her.

I stood there, pointing my wand between the eyes of my twin sister - my other half - and did nothing but tremble and cry as she watched me with nothing but betrayal and hatred on her beautiful face. Tom leaned over and whispered the words "Avada Kedavra" in my ear, and I screamed them back. Gavina fell to the ground, and I dropped to my knees and sobbed, while Tom simply went back inside, smirking.

His control over me was absolute.

But nothing can last forever.

On January 21^st, 1965, the Dark Serpent stronghold in Scotland was attacked by a group of Aurors, led by Albus Dumbledore. I watched as Wilkes, Rosier, Warrington, Midgen, Figg, Malécrit, Avery, Bell, Hawthorne, Lynch, Kelly, and Florette's brothers were murdered. The only ones left standing were Tom, Florette, and me.

Florette, her overdeveloped sense of loyalty kicking in, distracted the Aurors long enough for Tom to escape. And when they turned their wands on me, she begged and pleaded with them - loud enough for Tom to hear from outside the building - that if they spared my life, I would move my children out of the country and never make contact with Tom again. She offered her life for mine, and they accepted the offer.

I watched as the flash of green light illuminated the room. I stood immobile as her body fell to the floor, her glassy eyes fixed on me. I knelt down over her dead body and slipped off her wedding ring, hoping that it would fetch a lovel price at the market. And without a word to the Aurors or a tear for my fallen wife, I left the room and Apparated to Malfoy Manor.

I never kept Florette's word. Although I never contacted Voldemort again, I stayed in England with my children. I let them join his new group of supporters, the Death Eaters. I let them get tangled up in the Dark Arts, and did nothing to stop them.

Lucius married a woman named Narcissa, another Death Eater, and had a child, Draco. Lavinia also married a Death Eater, Maximillian Rosier (the younger brother of Evander Rosier, a Death Eater killed in 1980), and now has two children, Adrielle and Evander. I have stayed out of their business, until now, when I fear it may be too late.

Draco is sixteen and ripe to be selected as a Death Eater. I have seen the horrors of war, and inflicted them on my own child. I refuse to let Lucius inflict them on Draco. I will do everything in my power to bring Draco back and keep the Malfoy name, which I have soiled with the blood on my hands, clean and honourable again.

My name is Silvius Malfoy. There are some that say I am not to be faulted for my choices, but they would be wrong. I may have been a pawn in Tom Riddle's game of chess, but I chose to be so. With a smile on my face and not a doubt in my heart, I shook hands with the devil. I sold my soul willingly.

My life is coming to its end. My grandson's is just beginning. In this time of war, I wish only one thing for Draco Malfoy:

No regrets.