Forgive Me, Father

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.

That's how the Muggles start their confessions in church, I've been told. Ha! If I were to list my sins to a priest, it would take hours, and the poor old fellow would probably die of a heart attack on hearing it, for I have done terrible things. On the day I first arrived at Hogwarts, when I was eleven, the Sorting Hat's song, in the Slytherin verse, ran "Those cunning folk use any means to achieve their ends." I have lived up to that, all my life, in full. I have broken commandments, and I have committed deadly sins.

I envied Potter, when we were at school. He had intelligent companionship; he was better than I was at Quidditch without even really trying. And he was the toast of the whole school, except Slytherin. We were hated, and we hated in return. That first year, we had won the House Cup, by rights, until Perfect Potter and his friends came along and snatched it away, at the Leaving Feast no less. I took that envy, and used it to push myself forward. I would beat Potter at Quidditch; I would do better than Granger in some class that wasn't Potions.

I never did, of course. How could I, with Dumbledore in charge?

I have felt wrath, and I have revelled in it. Every time a Gryffindor taunted me, or any of my fellow Slytherins, in my hearing, I felt another welcome burst of wrath. Welcome, because that allowed me to hate them as my father said I should. If any of them had ever bothered to give us a kind word from time to time, who knows what might have happened? Not friendship, of course, but we might have achieved some kind of civility.

But they didn't, and so I hated them all. Just made it easier to do what had to be done. And so I did.

I have been filled with pride. I am a pureblood wizard, from an old family, and rich -- I was raised, all my life, to believe myself superior to almost everyone. Muggles, Mudbloods, and Weasleys alike. My father told me, "The only person to whom we are inferior is Lord Voldemort." I still believe that, though Lord Voldemort is no more. How can I not? The alternative is unthinkable. My pride also allowed me to do what had to be done.

And, as I said, I did it.

I have lied, and I have cheated. I have borne false witness. I have stolen, and I have killed. I have seen my peers writhing at my feet. And I enjoyed every moment of it.

I took the Dark Mark when I was seventeen, straight out of school. I did it of my own free will, and even the pain of the burning was a joyful moment, because it meant I had joined the circle. My father was a leading Death Eater, and I knew that a similar position awaited me by virtue of my birth. I was Lucius Malfoy's only son and heir. I was destined to be great.

The war broke out soon after, and I fought alongside my compatriots. Many of the enemy had been classmates of mine. I did not care. I killed some instantly and, when I had time and leisure to do so, tortured others. It was a wonderful time, though it has become known as the Terror. But like all good things, it came, inevitably, to an end.

I remember the day of the final showdown. Naturally enough, it was Harry bloody Potter, the Hero of the Wizarding World, who faced Lord Voldemort in the end. I have never known what spell he used to kill the Dark Lord --- he was far too noble to resort to Avada Kedavra, though there would be a certain poetic symmetry to it --- but I imagine it was one Mudblood Granger came up with.

In any event, once the smoke cleared, Lord Voldemort lay dead on the battlefield, and Potter lay beside him -- dying. An unforeseen side effect? Maybe. It's my view that he knew all along what would happen and he chose to lay down his life for his world. After all, he was a hero...

I've never inquired too deeply into the matter. I'm just glad he didn't die before I could get to him. My lord was dead, my life might be ruined, but I could still have my vengeance. My side were all hooded, so no one could see our faces and identify us if it all went wrong. I reached Potter while he still lived and was conscious enough to know I was there. I tipped my hood back ever so slightly, so he and he alone could see my eyes.

That was all he needed to recognise me. I saw it on his face, clear as daylight - he knew who I was and why I had come to him. He also knew he was already dying. He never said a word, just lay there quietly and let me speak my piece.

I kept it short and sweet.

"Payback time, Potter. Thanks for living long enough to let me kill you -- I always wanted to be the one who finished you off. I hope all the hate was worth it. See you in hell. Avada Kedavra."

And I Disapparated. We might have lost, our leader might be dead, but there was still a chance I might get out of this disaster alive and with my soul intact.

And so we come again to the Sorting Hat's song. "Those cunning folk use any means to achieve their ends." My "end" was to stay out of Azkaban, and in the process I committed what, by my reckoning, was the greatest sin of my life.

I dishonoured my father and mother.

I struck a deal with the court that tried me - I denounced all the Death Eaters whose names I knew. That included my father, and this is also where the "false witness" comes in. I told them he had threatened to kill me if I did not take the Mark, and if I did not subsequently obey him in all things.

He never did any such thing, of course. He never needed to. I took the Mark willingly, and anyway, my father loved me. He loved me, and I betrayed him to save my own skin. He was given the Dementor's Kiss, and as part of the deal, Malfoy Manor was stripped of all suspected Dark Arts objects, which was most of its contents.

My mother and I were also obliged to pay "reparations" which, while they didn't exactly leave us penniless, certainly lowered our standard of living quite considerably. My mother committed suicide a few months later, and now I live alone in the shell of my childhood home.

I will not marry, will never have children. I fear that any heir of mine might end up reliving the cycle my father and I went through, if a new Dark Lord were to arise, and so I will not risk such an heir being born. The Malfoy line will end with me, and I will die here in glorious solitude, attended only by the few house-elves that remain to me. I can never now make amends for destroying my family in this life, and probably not in the next.

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned...