"I need to talk to you, Father."
Father glanced up from where he was sitting on a couch in his study surrounded by tomes and ledgers, and nodded. "Come in, Henry."
Harry walked in and sat down on the couch in front of his father, arms folded. He'd been trying to talk to him since the Second Task about why Father had decided to suddenly care about Muggleborns, but Father had been evasive in his letters. Harry had been the one to determine that they were going to talk now that he was home for the Easter holidays.
"Why did you suddenly act as if you cared about Muggleborns in front of Fudge?" Harry asked. "And are you still doing it?" Harry thought he probably was, because suddenly Fudge was making announcements in the paper about things like an initiative to try to reach out to Muggleborns before their eleventh birthdays and teach them and their families about magic. Harry didn't think Fudge would have ever thought of something like that himself.
But then, he wouldn't have thought Father would, either.
Father ran his fingers through his hair for a second, and then focused on Harry. "I am doing it because I want to complete the redrawing of my image," he said. "I was a Death Eater, at least as far as most of Britain was concerned, even if they didn't think I was a willing one. Now I am not. And," he hesitated. "I thought you would like it."
Harry blinked several times. Then he said, "So you don't really believe in it?"
Father eyed him in silence.
"What do you believe?" Harry continued, angrier and more bewildered by the second. Before this, he would have said that Lucius Malfoy believed, deeply and sincerely, in pureblood superiority. It had been the reason he was so obsessed with punishing the Dursleys—although he hadn't mentioned that in several months, Harry realized. But now he was going against it, and…
Even if he wanted me to like him more, I wouldn't have thought he'd make a public announcement like this. Maybe donate money to Muggleborns in need or something, and make sure his name got out. But not political moves.
Harry flopped back on the couch. "What is going on?" he whispered.
"I realize this must be confusing," Father began quietly. "And I am afraid that you will not like me as much when I tell you the truth. But more and more, I am beginning to see that nothing else will do. Will you listen to me, Henry? And not ask questions until the end?"
Harry nodded, staring at Father. He pushed some of the tomes out of the way so that he could turn and face Harry more fully, his hand glancing along his bare left forearm for a second.
"All my life," Father said, grey eyes focused on Harry's, "I have been interested in power. I grew up with my father inviting people from the Ministry over, and of course the Dark Lord, and I saw how he interacted with them. I saw that the only people who seemed to have true ease, true comfort, true ability to do as they wanted, were the powerful ones. And I vowed that I would become like that.
"I knew I was…different from other people. Colder, in some way. I didn't have the same depth of feeling as they did. I wasn't interested in the same things. I didn't understand how they coped as well in social situations as they did, but on the other hand, I also didn't understand how they could let themselves be distracted from their goals by emotions. I named my goal and worked towards it.
"I understood that to present a good image to the Ministry and the public, I should marry and have children. I was prepared to do that. I assumed I would feel some minimal affection for them, as I did for my parents and some of my allies." Father breathed out. "And then—then I found Narcissa."
His face softened so much that Harry blinked. It was like he wasn't looking at the same man. As if multiple people were moving in and out of Father's skin.
Harry cast a small charm Ted had taught him that would detect illusions, although it wouldn't get rid of them. But no, it was just Father sitting there—Father who raised an eyebrow when Harry finished moving his wand. Harry flushed and put it away.
"She was a revelation," Father whispered. "I still don't know what made her so determined to break through my barriers. Did she see the man she thought I was capable of becoming? I've never asked her. I am afraid of the answer.
"But she broke through them, and I found myself in love for the first time. I would have done anything to protect her, to hoard that fire that burned in me. Most of her family were followers of the Dark Lord, and so was my father, who had been urging me to take the Mark. Joining the Dark Lord seemed like the best way to keep Narcissa safe. And he seemed a path to power. Everything I wanted.
"So I took the Mark."
Harry just stared at him, his thoughts in utter confusion. "You—you didn't believe that Muggleborns were inferior to purebloods, then?" he blurted. "But you tortured and killed people!"
"Yes, I did." Father sighed when Harry kept staring at him. "Henry, please understand. I told you I was incapable of the same depth of feeling as other people, at least most of the time. I regret it now, both because it created such a division between us and did not provide the safety for my family I thought it would."
"You did it because you thought it was the best way to keep Mother safe," Harry said dully. His own beliefs were so rooted that he felt—as if it would take something drastic to change them. Like finding out his parents had kidnapped him from his birth family, for example.
"Yes. And when you and Draco were born, you broke through my barriers, too." Father gave him a smile that seemed to shine with sunlight. "I had been worried that wouldn't happen, I admit. I had been concerned that I would resent having to share Narcissa with our children. But it did not. I have never felt so relieved about anything in my life.
"Well. Except one thing."
Harry lowered his eyes, knowing well what that one other thing had been. "And you thought following—him was the best way to keep us safe?"
"Yes. He seemed to be winning. And when you were stolen, part of me froze. Forever, as I thought. I became obsessed with Narcissa's safety, with Draco's. I dedicated myself even more to becoming a high-ranked Death Eater, for the sake of power, and for their sake. I could not tolerate a world ever again where they were vulnerable."
"What happened when I defeated him?"
"Then I chose the Imperius defense. I put in the long hours of acting necessary, of feigning remorse." Father shrugged. "It was the work of nothing, when I thought it would keep my family safe. At the same time, I was sure that I could join the Dark Lord, if he returned, without any regrets. Then that would be the path to safety and power."
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