Author's Note: This is the first part of a rather long series in which a very old Draco tries to pass on the history of the battle with Voldemort to a new generation of wizards. (I've amalgamated what were previously Chapters 1 and 2, plus the BRAND NEW Chapter 3). Please review, or else I don't know how many people read it. You don't even have to say anything, just say 'good' or 'bad'.

P.S. : I'm writing this while listening to a mix of Pantera and Queen, which may account for any discrepancies noticed.

Disclaimer: There be a distinct lack of original characters here, as they all belong to JK Rowling (though I still deny that Warner Bros. Owns anything, and am working on a concept for "Harry Potter and the Brothers Warner").

Born Under A Bad Sun

By Peeler
    • Lo, for even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear nothing…..

    • Psalm 23

"Gather around, children, and I will tell you a tale. 'Tis a grand tale, of sorrow, of courage, and in the end, of triumph. Part of this tale I have already told, and you have already heard. All of you gather round and I'll tell you the grandest tale of all time. For this is the tale of Harry Potter….."

"…..And when I said, no, wait, Diggory was the first - Then they all attacked me. And you know, my friend Vince, he never got those tentacles off his face as long as he lived….."

As I spoke to the children I was being drawn into the story. I could see the images of a time long past in my mind. And I knew, this was it, my last chance to tell of why we are here today. And if I perish before I finish my story, this history will go to the abyss with me…so listen well, and repeat this tale to all you meet.

The Daily Prophet records what we have documented of the events leading up to and surrounding the return of the Dark Lord. After the return of Voldemort, however, records are vague, or exist not at all. The tale begins after my fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witch Craft and Wizardry. After departing the school train, I was summoned to my father's study. He lectured me on the importance of keeping a cool head when in enemy territory, and told me for the last of many times of his famous duel with the Auror Jeremiah Radcliffe. "Now, son", he said, "If there had been anyone else there to fight me, there's no way I would have won. You remember that. There's no situation that you can't work to your advantage." And then he sent me out to the garden to help my mother weed. I remember it as if it were yesterday. It was the last time I saw him…..

I heard years later why my father was sent on that Gods-forsaken assignment. His Patronus Charm was the strongest of any Death Eater's, or so they say. Now, Azkaban, being unplottable, could not be apparated onto. Voldemort needed someone, someone sane and with the Dark Mark, to fly to Azkaban, outside the walls. He sent Lucius Malfoy. When the Dark Lord spoke to me, he told me how my father fought the Dementors, keeping them back just long enough for Voldemort to apparate in next to him. But by the time Voldemort got there, he was dead. 150 Dementors can kill you by their concentrated will alone, especially if you've lived as dark and tormented a life as my father had…..

But my father's sacrifice gave Voldemort the opening he needed. The Dark Lord relished the chill of the Dementors, he was able to feed his own power off of theirs, and they were afraid. Voldemort told me of the speech he gave there, the surf crashing behind him, wind sweeping his cloak out behind him like a great streamer, while thunderheads battled above. "Dementors of Azkaban" he shouted "Do you not grow tired of your exile upon this wind-swept isle? Can you not see that the ministry imprisons you alongside those you guard? Surely you wish for the freedom you so deserve, the freedom to use your powers in the world beyond this isolated prison cell? Now, join with me, restrain from attacking my Death Eaters, and I will bring you far from this place, to cities ripe with souls for your hunger. Are you with me?" As 300 Dementors knelt on the ground before the Dark Lord. Voldemort walked to the jail cells, and found there a frail but defiant figure standing tall. When she saw him, she fell to her knees. Later, she would tell me it was the first time she had left her feet since her banishment. With a sweep of the Dark Lord's hand, the bars to her cell collapsed on themselves. "Rise, my friend" he said "Rise and take up your position again. Amanita Lestrange, you are once again my second in command. Now give me your arm." When the Dark Mark shone black on Amanita's arm, seventy black-robed figures appeared around the pair. An hour later, Lord Voldemort shouted to the assembled army of Dementors and Death Eaters, "Now, my friends, we are united once more under the Dark Mark! But before we leave this place, let us pay tribute to the man who won us this victory!"

I know the Dark Lord told the truth. For after the war, I went to Azkaban. The stone cell walls and iron bars had been torn down, and crushed into piles. From the air, one can see what the rubble of what was once Azkaban now spells.

HERE LIES LUCIUS MALFOY

DEATH EATER OF LORD VOLDEMORT

BY HIS BLOOD WAS AZKABAN DESTROYED

With the death of my father, everything I had ever known changed. By the laws of the Ministry of Magic, I could not qualify to inherit the estate until my 18th birthday, so my mother had legal ownership. However, my father's death had put her at her wit's end. She had no will to do anything around the house. I hired more servants in her name, and took on the burden of running the manor. While I found the work tedious in the extreme, I was able to discover a great number of my father's private documents and research projects. I discovered that the name of Malfoy had come into significant prominence after Laszlo Malfoy married one of Salazar Slytherin's great-great-granddaughters. I also discovered that only one Malfoy had ever been engaged to anyone not of pure blood, and he had been assassinated prior to the wedding. Most of my father's research was focused on how magic was strengthened by a wizard's purity of blood. Though I spent days going through this information, I found nothing of particular interest. I sold all the minority shares the estate still owned, and handed over the managing of the manor to the servants, though if they wished to do something of import they were to inform me. And then I did something which changed my life, irreparably. Under the guise of going on holiday, I decided to seek Lord Voldemort.

The adage which says "If you go looking for trouble it will find you" is not necessarily correct. I hunted countless places for any sign of the Death Eaters. My father's will had given ownership of the estate's winged horses to an older uncle, so I had to travel by broomstick. I spoke to the patrons of roadside taverns for news. I read the Daily Prophet, but there was precious little being reported. Apparently Fudge didn't want to cause a panic, and was blackmailing the reporters. As I was about to despair, I remembered my father had a list of the addresses of all currently registered Hogwarts students. Well, that gave me an idea.

There is no description for the anger I saw on Hermione Granger's face when she opened her door and saw me standing there. It's slightly more possible to describe the pain of having a rather heavy door striking you in the face, and this was what I had experienced a moment later. Realizing straightaway that Hermione wouldn't listen to anything I was going to say, I decided, perhaps a less direct route would be better. My plan was this: somehow I would have to get my hands on the jar in which Rita Skeeter, unregistered animagus and journalist, was trapped. And since even that foolish mudblood Granger would have nothing against rumors about Voldemort's return, Rita wouldn't have the beans spilled about her beetleness. Well, how hard could this be? I was soon to find out.

I tried to slip into the Granger house through the front door and found that there were friendship wards on it. No-one without good intentions towards the inhabitants could enter, and I sure couldn't break it. That's when I had another brainwave. I flew around the house until I located Hermione's room. The wards stretched around all the walls. However, I was able to create a large hole in the roof using a reductor curse, and summoned the jar containing Rita into my hand. Suddenly, a brilliant white light shone out of the hole in the roof. The mudblood had rigged up an alarm to alert her to anyone trying to steal the jar! I leapt back onto my broom and fled swiftly.

I landed about two kilometers away from the Granger's house and opened the jar. As soon as Rita transformed, she began spewing expletives at an alarming rate. When she had calmed down, I told her what I needed her to do. In her animagus form, she could get access to almost any information. As a personal favor to me for freeing her, she was going to start a month-long investigative report titled 'The Return of You-Know-Who: Fact or Fiction?' While the report would conclude with an assertive denial of the Dark Lord's return, it would include enough facts that would-be Death Eaters like myself could get to the Dark Lord and join him.

I was to learn later that this was exactly the turn of events Voldemort had been waiting for.

Three days later, I bought a copy of the newspaper. Though I had gotten to know Rita rather well during my fourth year at Hogwarts, she never ceased to amaze me. The article was brilliant.

He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Rises Again?

An Investigative Series By Rita Skeeter.

I know many of our readers, bless their souls, have been worried about my absence, and I would like to reassure them. I am in perfect health; though this is a surprise, considering what I have been through.

I, Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter, have spent the last two months on a harrowing investigation into the rumors that are currently flying; the rumors that the Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, has returned.

I began my search for the truth in Albania, where some believe Voldemort may have been hiding since his defeat. Albania is also where Ministry of Magic witch Bertha Jorkins was last seen. Joris Knapov, innkeeper in the town where Bertha disappeared, says "She seemed fine the whole time she was here. Two days before she was reported missing, she met a short, stocky bald man. I assumed he was a ministry contact, but I could be mistaken." Jorkins, who fellow employees have described as 'dim-witted and forgetful', has not been seen since approximately this time last year. Is it possible that she was meeting not, as Mr. Knapov thought, a ministry contact, but rather a dark arts contact? Could Bertha Jorkins be a Death Eater?

Look for Part Two of this Daily Prophet exclusive in my column tomorrow.

I put down the paper with a satisfied sigh. Good old Rita. I estimated I would stand in front of Lord Voldemort before the week was out. The Malfoy family legacy would live on, and we would rise to power alongside Lord Voldemort. My work done, I returned home to wait.

Sorry for the wait! I had a lot of other things to do (like resting, and watching Blue Jays games!) Anyhoo, I hope to have the next part out sooner. REVIEW, PLEASE!