Nothing

Nothing

I look into the mirror and see nothing. Nothing is looking back at me, nobody. That is what I am, nobody. Where there is supposed to be something, there is nothing. I stare into my eyes and there is void. A cold, dark void, absorbing light and everything it catches in its range. Even the colour, grey, says nothing. Everything I once was, is lost, and gone forever. I no longer feel anything. No heat, no cold, no warmth, no love, no hate, no sadness, just nothing. It is all gone. It has no use anymore. I am empty, wasted for eternity.

I still remember the day that I became what I am now, a nobody. I remember it clearly. Voices ring in my ears.

You are nobody, nothing. You have disgraced me. I no longer wish to have anything to do with the likes of you.

My father, my own precious father. Then a softer voice echoes through my mind.

I am very disappointed in you, son. We only did the best for you.

It was the day I told my parents that I would not serve the Dark Lord, three weeks before I became what I am now, nothing. I simply decided not to serve the Dark Lord. Not now, not then, not ever. The only person I served was myself. I got what I wanted when I wanted it and there was no way I would give that all up in order to serve some lunatic. I wanted power for myself, myself only. It was a mistake, and I realised that pretty soon. The only problem was however that I realised it too late, on the day that I became what I am now. On the day I died. And I never saw myself again, only a void, a nothing.

The day started as any other for these last three weeks. I woke up when I wanted, took a lovely long shower and a long walk across the estate, not once being bothered by anyone, servants, or my parents. While walking I started thinking of my new life, the possibilities I had, the changes I could make. I never saw it coming then. Total and utter stupidity. I had lived with these people all my life, resided in their company from the day I was born. I should have known that they would not give up so easily after I had said no. And they did not. But the day started out lovely.

Somehow I always end up on top of the tower in the west wing of Malfoy Manor. It was my favourite spot, my thinking spot. That day, it was no different and I sat for at least six hours on that tower, thinking about myself. I liked who I was, I really did. Most people called me a conceited, arrogant, snotty spoiled little brat. And that pretty much summed me up. I was no treat, not by a long shot. When I was little I had at least two servants who waited on every wish I might have. If it was either toys, candy, food or something else. My biggest wish however was to please my father, to have my father love me. I did anything for him. And although he was always busy, he made time for me. At those moments he took me places, told me stories of our family. That was what everything in my family comes down to. Our family. Our mighty, old and respected family.

To bear the name of Malfoy meant to bear a certain burden. A burden of an ancient family, with values, rules and honour. Three weeks ago I turned away from this burden, and it felt lovely. I finally felt free to be who I wanted to be. The only downside was that I had lost my father in the process. My father. The man who meant everything to me. His words hurt so much. They brought tears to my eyes even thinking of them.

I no longer wish to have anything to do with the likes of you.

Words spoken by the person I loved above anything. The person who I would sacrifice everything for.

The best memory I have of my father was actually right there on that tower. I was six years old. The tower gave a beautiful view of our whole estate. And it certainly is an impressive estate. We had stood side by side watching over what one day would be mine.

"Son," my father had said, while placing a hand on my shoulder. "Look at your future, your destiny. This, all of this, is what you are, and what you need to live up to. One day, when I am no longer here, this land will be yours. Then it is up to you to uphold the Malfoy family honour, and pass it on. One day you will be exactly like me."

I was so proud that day. I was a Malfoy and someday I would be exactly like the man I admired most, my father.

I closed my eyes on top of that tower and my life after that memory passed before my eyes. I did everything I could to become exactly like him. It was my only dream, to be my father. I acted the way he wanted me to. I was sorted into the same house as he at Hogwarts. The best house: Slytherin. People say that only bad wizards get into Slytherin or they at least become bad in that house. Where they got that absurd idea is beyond me. I am not evil, maybe a little, but not pure evil. I just take delight in aggravating other people. There's nothing wrong with that. Especially when it concerns that little git Potter. Who does he think he is? Besides The Freaking Boy Who Lived, that is. I offered him my friendship, but no, he had to turn it down. And for what? A Weasel and that little know-it-all Granger. Like that is any better. Not that I chose the greatest friends in the world, but they were certainly useful. Crabbe and Goyle were both incredibly loyal and strong. Unfortunately also thick, moronic, imbecilic and every other word you could think of concerning stupidity. I wonder from time to time how they even got accepted to Hogwarts in the first place. If stupidity had not already been invented it would have been in order to describe those two. Sometimes it is even hard to tell them apart. But they were always at my side, no matter what.

I became so much like my father, that you could even refer to me as little Lucius Malfoy. However there was one part of my father's life that was distinctly his, not mine. The Dark Lord. My father lived to serve him. Serving him, he claimed, gave his status a certain charm, a certain style. It added to his flair. That was his choice, not mine. I sincerely disliked the idea of serving anyone, beside myself. I totally agreed with the views expressed by Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters, but that did not mean that I had to become one of them. Especially when I saw each and every time that the blasted old fool was defeated by my archenemy with a hero complex: Potter. Three times Potter got rid of him without loss of life. Three times. If a mere boy could defeat the mighty lord he was not worth following. The fourth time was different, this time someone died. This changed the mentality of Voldemort and the Death Eaters entirely. They became bolder. They started planning and, to my great misfortune, I was a big part of that plan.

Exactly three weeks ago, my father had called me to his office. He had said that he had something very important to tell me, all the time a big proud smile was plastered on his face. He had regarded me with so much respect. I had loved to see that look on my fathers face. I had lived to receive it, not knowing that it would be the only time I would receive it, the first and the last time. When I had entered, my father was busy writing, but he had immediately stopped and had asked me to take a seat. He had started by telling me again about the Malfoy family. Their strength, their values and their honour. I knew all of this. It was what I lived by, it was what I breathed. But what had followed had shocked me to no end.

"Son," he had said smiling, "I have wonderful news for you. My lord has decided that you will become one of us this evening."

He had waited for a response, but he got none since I was too stunned to even utter a word. So he continued.

"It is a great honour. You will be the youngest Death Eater there has ever been. Normally nobody gets accepted before they have turned seventeen and have left school. But my lord wanted to make an exception for you, since you are special. You are very intelligent, one of the best of your year and your popularity is unknown."

He had paused again and seemed to be thinking about what needed to be said next. Finally I had gathered myself again and was able to speak.

"No," I had said.

At that, my father had looked at me, surprised.

"What did you say?" he had asked with controlled anger in his voice.

"No. I said no. I will not become a Death Eater, like you. Not now, not ever. I do not want to, and that is the last I wish to say about this subject."

The smile had disappeared of my father's face completely. Instead he had looked at me with a cold and angry expression on his face. A face mostly reserved for the servants and other people. Never for me. This had scared me and I had gotten up quickly and left his office.

I knew then, that I had messed up badly. But how could I explain what I was thinking to my father? How could I say to him that I had the distinct feeling that his precious lord would not be around long? Especially not with Potter around. That I saw no benefits in it for me to serve the old fool. That the only person I wanted to serve was me, nobody else. That night at dinner both my father and my mother had said only one thing to me. The last thing they had said to me for the last three weeks. First my father:

"You are nobody, nothing. You have disgraced me. I no longer wish to have anything to do with the likes of you."

These words hit me hard; they hit me where it hurts the most, in my heart, coming from my example. The man I had admired my entire life, had abandoned me. My mother:

"I am very disappointed in you, son. We only did the best for you."

Of course they had done their best for me. My father, at least. All my mother had done for me was bringing me into this world. She never really wanted to have anything to do with me, leaving me in the care of servants. These words were the last they had spoken to me.

I stared into the distance at the top of that tower while remembering those words. They brought tears to my eyes. It had been three weeks. Three weeks to the day and neither one had even attempted to say something to me or even acknowledge my existence. The sun was beginning to set and I could see the first carriages arriving at our estate. Signalling the beginning of the monthly Malfoy dinner. It was time to go down, change and make an appearance. Maybe that would reconcile me with my father and we could set aside our differences.

The moment I walked down the stairs and into the exquisite dining room I knew I had made a mistake. An empty room filled with black-cloaked people, some of them wearing masks, greeted me. One of the masked figures stepped forward, while the others encircled me. There was no way out. Each way was blocked. Fear spread through my body. Whatever they wanted from me could not be good. Death Eaters could be described with many words, but forgiving and nice were not among them. It was simply something they did not know, and certainly did not live by. That was a fact I knew, since they also did not exist in my father's vocabulary. The masked man that had stepped forward began speaking.

"Welcome," he stated icily. "Draco Malfoy. Tonight you are our guest of honour. Some disturbing news was brought before us three weeks ago concerning your refusal to join us. You have had three weeks to reconsider. What is your answer now?"

Although I was terrified beyond reason, I still found the nerve to refuse. I had promised myself three weeks ago when my father had abandoned me that I would never join them, no matter what happened.

"So it is still no, isn't it?" the man continued.

I nodded to confirm.

"Have it your way then, boy!"

With those words he nodded towards another cloaked man, who stepped forward, wand in hand and pointed it at me. After a moment of silence a very familiar voice echoed through the room.

"Crucio!" the man screamed.

I recognized the voice immediately. My father, my own father had just pronounced the words of one of the Unforgivable Curses at his own son. Those were the last thoughts that went trough my brain before pain took over my thought, my body, my everything.

Pain. Greater pain than I had ever felt in my life. Pain that filled each part of my body. Pain that made me fall to the ground. Pain that made me writhe with pain. Pain that made me scream at the top of my lungs. I did not know how long it lasted in real time. For me however it lasted an eternity, it seemed to go on forever and ever and ever. When my father finally stopped, I lay panting on the floor.

"What is your answer now, boy?" the icy voice asked once again.

Gathering all my strength, I managed to produce a very soft 'no'. I would not serve someone accompanied by people who were willing to put me through this ordeal.

"Crucio!"

Once again my father's voice filled the room and my ears. Again pain coursed through my body and suppressed each thought I might have. All I could think of was pain. The pain in my body. Even if I wanted to think of different things, the pain would not let me. It controlled me, my body, and my mind. It controlled me until I blacked out.

When I woke up, I was still surrounded by the cloaked people. Only my own robes were gone. All I was wearing was a pair of black boxers, my favourite.

The masked man addressed me again: "What do you say now?"

Filled with anger and resolvement I shouted at him: "No! And there is nothing you can do to make me!"

A cold laugh answered me.

"We will see about that!"

He nodded towards my father again, who was holding a whip this time. He stepped forward and lashed out. As soon as the first stroke hit me, pain rushed through my back and the rest of my body. And another, and another. One lash following the other swiftly and painfully. Blinding every thought I could have once again. This time however I did not scream. There was no way I would give them that pleasure, no way in hell. Or heaven actually, since these people clearly already resided in hell. The voice kept asking me what my answer was. I refused to say anything, my lips were sealed. The only thing I focused on was the pain, the never-ending, eternal pain, as it seemed. I lost track of time once again, then everything went black.

Someone woke me up once more, by giving me some sort of potion. He reminded me a little of Snape, maybe it was even him. I do not know why precisely, but he did. There was just something about the way he handled me. Almost like he really liked me and felt for me. And Snape was the only person I knew that really liked me for who I was: Draco. Not Malfoy, but the person that was Draco, me. What followed after the second time I woke up was once again a new kind of torture. They scraped of the top layer of the skin slowly with a knife while I was unable to move. Terrible pain it produced, indescribable pain. After I managed to survive that also, they tried out everything a person can think of on me. Ranging from spells to beatings to the use of uncanny attributes.

Until today I cannot remember how many times I blacked out and how many times they healed and revived me, just to try again. With each punishment, I grew number. First I only blocked out the people around me and the voice asking me time and time again what my answer would be. Then I tuned out the pain bit by bit, until I no longer felt anything. The longer they went on, the more numbed I became. It was a lovely feeling actually. Somewhat like flying, or floating. Only this time I was floating outside myself, watching what they did to me from a safe, comfortable place. Minute by minute I slowly began feeling thin, and feeling stretched. Like what once was me, was just being solved in the air. Until there was no more me left. Until I just ceased to exist. Until I died. I remember exactly what echoed through my mind at that moment.

You are nobody, nothing.

These words, spoken by my own precious father, sealed my faith. They signed my death. They meant the birth of what I am now, nothing.

That was the day I died. The day I ceased to exist. The day I became the shell I am now. The day I became that one thing I never wanted to be. The day I became a Death Eater. The follower of an old bloody fool, who was going to have a very short lifetime. I knew that soon everything would be over. That soon I would be released from living in this hell, created a little more than six weeks ago. It is ironic actually, that the day I died I became exactly what I wanted to be my whole life: my father. My father made me that fateful day. Here I am now, waiting for Potter to defeat Voldemort and kill me in the process. Then I will be free once again. Then I will once again be the person I was. Then I will be freed from the void within me, the void filled with coldness and darkness. Until then I need to live with this emptiness, this void in me. Until then I am wasted, empty for eternity.

I splash water over my face, trying to look fresh and alive enough for the first day of class. Then someone knocks on the door.

"Malfoy? You there?" a grumpy voice says.

It is Goyle.

"We need to go to breakfast now, I am starving. So is Crabbe."

Like that is a surprise, I think nastily.

"I am coming," I say.

I walk towards the door and open it after I straighten my robes. I need to look perfect, and I know I always do. While standing in the doorway I look back at the mirror once more. And I see it once again...

Nothing