Crossroads

Draco read the last letter from his father. It had come after breakfast, in order to avoid notice from his peers. The words had brought a crossroads…one that he had avoided for so long. The words so simple, the meaning so dire. Your initiation approaches. Be ready.

His father was the right-hand man of Voldemort. He had been trained since he was 5 years old to be the perfect heir to the Dark Lord. There could be no weaknesses in him. The Dark Side was dangerous to everyone, even the best. Any weakness was exploited and used to the advantage of rivals. There was a hierarchy of Followers and currently the Malfoy family was on the top. But being on top was dangerous…you were in front of eyes at all times. Everyone wanted to pull you down.

He was so tired of being hard. He was tired of maintaining the cold mask he showed to the world. He was tired of being invincible.

He didn’t want to be a killer. He had never killed anyone. But his initiation…he would have to kill someone close to him. His mother couldn’t be used as the sacrifice…Lucius had killed her when he was seven as punishment for talking to a Weasley. The person he used now was an illusion…a harder, colder Narcissa than he remembered. But Lucius couldn’t and wouldn’t create anything remotely human, remotely soft. He missed her and hated how his mind merely calculated in the advantage of a lost risk. He was turning into the mask he held every day…his soul and the persona he held were melting and blending into each other. He was losing himself.

He couldn’t be a Death Eater…it would condemn him as soon as the War was over. He truly believed that the Light would prevail eventually…it was only a matter of time. The youth saw it too; less and less students came to the Dark Side. Only the fanatics and loyal followers remained…like his father.

His father knew that Draco was breaking away from the mold that he had been fit into since childhood. So he tightened his hold. Once he had subjected Draco to the Cruciatus Curse every time he couldn’t bring himself to kill a Muggle girl placed in front of him. Draco had been pushed into a three-day coma, but still…he hadn’t killed the girl.

Draco couldn’t feel anymore. It had been years since he laughed beyond the weak chuckle he used when it was polite. He hadn’t cried since he was 2 years old and got whipped for crying when his pet rat died. People died in front of him and he felt nothing, only a calculation of risk and benefit. But he could feel the void inside, the one that had been buried deep underneath the death of his mother. The void was filling him, but he wanted something else. Something more.

Every second he waited at this crossroads, his soul slipped deeper into darkness. The Dark Side was the only thing that meant anything to his father. He kept Draco only because it was an added advantage in remaining in the Dark Lord’s favor. The knife he cut himself with went deeper and deeper every day…because it was harder and harder to make himself feel anything. Even pain. He was becoming a shadow…ruthless, unfeeling…merely a killer. The one thing he had kept himself from even after years learning beneath the shadow of the Dark Side.

He couldn’t do it. He may die for it, but he couldn’t become the thing he hated most. He would not become a Death Eater. His father would disown him…maybe try to kill him. The Dark Lord would send his minions after him. He would be dead within hours of his open change to the Light. But he had to preserve himself. If he didn’t keep what he believed in safe, the core of his soul pure, then what was there to live for. Nothing.

He walked by the Potions classroom, unseeing, and bumped into some girl. “Sorry,” he muttered, as he brushed by her. She grabbed his arm and his eyes focused on her. Ginevra Weasley…last of the Weasley clan. His immediate trained feelings were hatred but they faded as he forced himself to forget the empty eyes of his mother.

She looked at him searching. “Are you okay, Malfoy? That’s probably the first time you’ve apologized to anyone…and a Weasley, at that!”

Someone did care…it felt strange, being asked about like you were someone instead of a risk or advantage. “There’s a first time for everything, Weas- Ginevra? Even going mad.”

She laughed and asked hesitantly, “Is something wrong, Mal- Draco? You seem…preoccupied.” He grimaced.

“Everything’s wrong…but I think I can make it okay. Thanks for asking.”

“Just don’t be surprised if people from the insane asylum call on behalf of me requesting a mental evaluation of your health.” He chucked…the first time he had laughed since he was a kid. She smiled at him, and to his surprise, he felt a grin crease his face in reply. She winked at him and walked away with a smile on her face. The first time he had made anyone smile in true joy.

Draco sent a letter to Dumbledore an hour before his so-called initiation to the Dark Side. It was time to make the stand that would end his life…and begin it in a way. The first time he showed his true feelings about something – anything to do with his life.

The Dark Lord called him to the front of the darkened room ringed by robed figures with the eerie masks of the Death Eaters. “Are you willing to serve?” It didn’t specify whom.

“Yes, I am willing.”

“To pledge your life to the cause?” It didn’t specify which cause.

“I pledge my life.”

“To serve the Dark faithfully, and willingly to your last breath?”

“Never.” Voldemort’s features were hidden beneath his hood. The Death Eaters withdrew their wands.

“Care to explain?”

“I serve the Light. I pledge my life to the Light. I serve the Light, not the Dark, faithfully and willingly to my last breath. Never the Dark.”

Voldemort made a slashing gesture with his wand. “You were good enough to die by my own hand.”

Draco took the opening. “Panica Mentale!” Harry Potter Apparated to the screne and attacked Voldemort’s mind as all his mental defenses and shields vanished. As Voldemort fell to the ground, Draco leapt in front of the Boy Who Lived, accepting the spells meant for him. When Voldemort’s heartbeat faded, the Death Eaters collapsed simultaneously. Draco was already gone to the World Beyond. His steely eyes never had to see any more pain, any more death.

Dumbledore opened the letter that arrived with Mr. Malfoy’s owl.

Dear Sir,

I go to my initiation to the Dark Side as a member of the Light…at least in my own heart. I have a plan to make my death meaningful to the cause. Mr. Potter will be Apparating here soon…he will tell you all about it.

D.M.

Dumbledore smiled wistfully, tears running down the creases in his face. The prophecy had come true…the second one...the one that no one knew.

“The Dragon shall save the Light as his life blood runs with the Dark. Breaking the bonds of good and evil, the Heir shall join him as the Evil is vanquished by one of its own.”

The danger was gone. The Light had prevailed. Ginevra Weasley burst into the office, tears running down her cheeks and a letter in her hands. “He was different. He – he told me everything would be all right. He –“ She broke into tears as Dumbledore remembered the second part of the prophecy.

“The love of the Phoenix, unknowingly given, shall save the Dragon from the torment he faces within. With her love shall the sacrifice be complete. With the sacrifice of their love and all that could come with it shall come the Power to the Heir to destroy the Evil and bring the Light. So it shall be.”

Harry arrived in a snap. “The Dark Lord is dead. Draco Malfoy died a hero’s death. I – I never knew him. No one did. But he died to show his true self.” Tears filled the emerald eyes and together, the Teacher, Heir and Phoenix went to tell Hogwarts, and then the world, the tale of the Dragon.