Another Chance

Epilogue

AN: Weee, the last chapter for this story! It's been a long time in the coming, but it's finally done. :) Enjoy!

#####

It was a hot summer that year. And it was on one of the hotter days of this hot summer that a man named Lucius Malfoy walked down a certain neighbourhood in Surrey. There was a lot that this man named Lucius Malfoy had on his mind, and most of the thoughts that swirled around in this man's head were centered around two individuals – the first was a boy named Harry Potter, and the second was a man – or was once a man – named Lord Voldemort.

There was a tremor in Lucius Malfoy's hand. If you looked carefully, you could see it twitch every few seconds. His gait, once purposeful and steady, was now slow and halting. Permanent nerve damage, his Healer had told him. Likely caused by over-exposure to the Cruciatus curse. Lucius flexed his left hand, and if you looked carefully at his left hand, you would notice that two of his fingers seemed to go through his palm.

He did not like having to walk. If he could, he would have apparated closer to his destination, but there was magic in place – protective enchantments that prevented him from apparating within a certain radius of it. And so he walked, marvelling at the mundane uniformity of the muggle settlement he was in, with its neatly manicured lawns and brick fences. There wasn't a soul in sight in that sweltering summer heat – except maybe one. As Lucius walked down Privet Drive, he squinted at the fourth house down, and thought he saw a teenage boy with messy black hair tending to a flowerbed. Harry Potter.

The boy was guarded, of course. One did not simply walk up to Harry Potter's house, but Lucius was a resourceful man. It was not hard for him to entice one Mundungus Fletcher to take a "break" from his shift. The boy didn't even realize that he was there until his shadow fell across the flowerbed – but as soon as it did, a split second later, Lucius found a wand at his throat.

"Why are you here?" he asked dangerously.

"Kindly point your wand elsewhere, Mr Potter," said Lucius quietly. The wand quivered but did not move. "I would not have made it past Dumbledore's wards, had I any ill intent towards you. And as you see, I have not attacked you."

He took out his wand – and though it pained him to surrender his wand to a half-blood – he held it out to Potter. Potter took it silently, and pocketed it. He lowered his own wand, though he kept it in his hand. Lucius did not blame him.

"Why are you here?" he repeated.

"I wish to discuss some issues with you," answered Lucius simply. "Is there a place we may talk?"

Potter hesitated, and then nodded.

"Follow me." He led him further down the block to what looked like a playground for muggle children. It was deserted in that summer heat, and Potter selected a bench that was in shade. The boy was sweating – Lucius wondered whether he should offer to cast a cooling charm on the boy, but decided against it. He didn't think Potter would let him point a wand at him.

"The Dark Lord," said Lucius, when Potter motioned him to start, "was not always the way he is now. When I was a young man, he was more human. He was eloquent – spell-bindingly eloquent. He came to my father's house when I was in school, and he talked of many things. He talked of the injustice of wizards, hiding like rats from muggles, when our rightful place was to rule over them. He talked of the weakness of the Ministry, and how the sheer number of Muggleborns was influencing it to reduce the power of the traditional pureblood families. He wanted to change things, of course, and I was young. I believed him."

Here Lucius paused, but Potter said nothing. He just listened intently, betraying not expression on his face. He continued –

"In those first days, it wasn't bad. As a Hogwarts student, he tasked me to win more people to his side, and that was easy. I was the scion of an ancient and noble House, and it was easy to sway people. Our numbers grew, both within Hogwarts and without.

"It's hard to say when the wanton depravity set in. At first we were just activists. We spoke loudly and publicly, and the Ministry started to develop a disdain for us. They wanted to shut us down. Then one day the Dark Lord told us of a Ministry official who had sentenced one of our brothers to Azkaban. He was to be taught a lesson, he said. We went to his house, intending to rough him up. The man fought back, and injured one of us. In our anger, we killed him."

"The murder was blamed on us, though no one knew who had committed it. The Ministry, weak as ever, blustered around, but no arrests were made. It emboldened us. Over the years, as our brotherhood grew, it got progressively worse. And indeed, as time progressed, the Dark Lord started seeming less and less human. There was talk of rape, torture, murder. I was excluded from much of it at first, of course – many of the sons of well-placed pureblood families were. But then we got desensitized to hearing about it, and soon we got desensitized to seeing it done. Before long we were doing it."

Lucius bowed his head in shame. "Why didn't you get out?" asked Potter.

"We couldn't," he answered. "Most of us didn't even consider it. Maybe you are too young to understand this Potter, but it was a gradual descent into madness that took over us. There was no one instant where we became murderers and rapist. It was far more gradual than that, and when change is that gradual, most of the time it happens without you noticing it."

He peered intensely at Potter, willing him to understand, and to his surprise, he found far more understanding than he expected. Perhaps this would be easier than he anticipated.

"And you regret this now?"

Lucius mulled over the question. It was a question he himself had dealt with for many years now.

"Perhaps," he answered delicately. "The Malfoys are taught, Potter, to place family above all else. When my father died, I did what I did to ensure the continued survival and prosperity of the Malfoy family, and that included becoming a Death-Eater. The visions that the Dark Lord had fed us, they ruled us in those days. We were destined for glory, and at the time, it seemed nothing could stop him. Until - "

"Until me," Potter finished for him. Lucius nodded.

"Until you. We were on the cusp of victory, until we weren't. The tides had changed. It was easy to bribe my way out of Azkaban. It's amazing how a few well-publicized donations to St. Mungo's can improve your standing amongst Wizardkind.

"Our brotherhood fell apart without the Dark Lord. The winds of fortune changed, and with them the alignment of the Malfoy family. I now pursued my ambitions and those of my family through more traditional means – through the Wizengamot, through the Ministry. And I will not lie to you Potter, it met with far more success than the Dark Lord's tactics."

"Then why did you go back to him?"

Lucius snorted. "I didn't. He came to me, Peter Pettigrew carrying him in his sickly form. I had no choice but to obey him. The Dark Mark binds me to him -" he clutched at his left forearm. "But the reason I tell you all this, Mr Potter, is to help you understand my motivations.

"For me, my family comes first and foremost. Had I died in the graveyard, the Malfoy family might not have survived."

"You have a son."

"A 14 year old son," said Lucius. "Barely tested, and more boastful than competent. Had I died, the enemies of the Malfoy family would have been quick to tear away at our fortune and standing, and there are many years until Draco is ready to defend them. I lost a lot that night -" he waved his wand to cancel the illusion that hid his lost fingers. "My healer tells me I will never completely recover from the effects of being under the Cruciatus curse for that long." He looked Potter in the eye. "It is clear to me that the fortune of the Malfoy family does not lie with the Dark Lord. It is also clear to me that you are the best hope the world has of defeating him. For this aim, I place my help and considerable resources at your disposal."

"What about your Dark Mark?" asked Potter.

Lucius waved his quivering hand. "If he asks something of me directly, I cannot refuse. But there are other ways to fight him Potter, than wand-waving. Smarter ways. More Slytherin ways."

Potter snorted. "Perhaps. But even so, you don't expect me to believe that you'll suddenly start welcoming muggleborns into our world."

Lucius' eyes glinted. "Oh Potter, don't expect me to abandon my agenda for pureblood rights – whether you like it or not, we are better than the mudblood filth infecting our world. We have the old magic, and we embrace the old ways. This is our world, and they're just living in it.

"I do not offer you friendship, Potter, I offer you an alliance. You need to defeat the Dark Lord, and it is in my interests to see him defeated. You fought the Dark Lord at half-strength Potter, and you still only fought him to a stalemate. Do not think you can win this alone."

Recognition flashed through Potter's eyes, and Lucius' lips curled. He had won, and Potter – without even knowing it – had lost.

#####

AN: Dun dun dun … how honest was Lucius Malfoy with Harry? What does he really want? Do you really believe him? This is my epilogue, and it paves the way for a completely original and creative book five. I don't know if I will actually get around to it – so if you feel like picking up the story, go for it!

Review and tell me what you think.