Life Is As Sweet As A Cinnamon Bun
4. It's My Life
I woke up suddenly. I was back in the old house, propped up against a wall. Two wizards I didn't know were staring down at me.
"What are you doing out here, acting like a Muggle? I thought you hated them." One of them snapped.
I didn't answer. My first was still bleeding. I was feeling very weak.
"You're a Death eater, aren't you?"
I still didn't answer. These wizards were from the Ministry; we were both on the same side, weren't we? Both against Voldemort.
"Where's Voldemort?!"
But they know who I am, they knew my father was a Death Eater, surely they suppose I am one too. I was an enemy.
But you've turned against Voldemort. You risked your life in spying him. Doesn't that make you good? Doesn't that make you a hero?
A hero? That was laughable. People like Potter were the heroes. The people that have always been good are heroes. I might be on the good side, but then I would be a weak guy who hadn't had the strength to hold against Voldemort.
"We'd better take him to the interrogation office."
Bang!
Suddenly I was in a small room. A row of green chairs on the side. The two wizards pulled me up and took me through several corridors. Several people jumped out of my way when they saw me. Looks of loathing on their faces. Then I was put into another small room. A bed, a table, a chair.
"Lie down and rest. We'll ask you questions later."
An old witch came in and mended my fist. I was given some food that I swallowed down hungrily.
I was scared. What would happen? Would they believe me if I told them the truth? That I'd turned against Voldemort?
The next day, I was made to sit down in the same room that I'd arrived in. Then three people walked in; Fudge the Minister, another younger wizard, and Dumbledore. It was a good thing that he was here. He'd certainly believe me, if I told him the whole truth. But Fudge looked like the only thing he wanted to do was send me to Azkaban.
"Are you a Death Eater?" started Fudge. He looked fiercely at me.
"No," I replied truthfully.
"Do you mean that you've turned against the Dark Lord, or that you've never been with him?" he suggested, not really considering that either might be true.
"I worked for him, for quite a while, but I decided I didn't like it, so yes, I turned against him." I said lightly.
"Oh, really? Why did you betray him? What could you have possibly gained from it?" Fudge retorted sarcastically.
"Now, Cornelius, don't jump to conclusions too quickly. Listen to what he's got to say first." He looked at me, half between indulgence, and doubt.
"Do you have a valid explanation for what you've been up to, lately, Mr. Malfoy? Hiding from the wizarding world completely, pretending to be a Muggle. How did this happen exactly?"
"As I said, I didn't like working for Voldemort, so I warned the Ministry of an important raid on Diagon Alley. He found out. Didn't like it at all. I was tortured, but amazingly I got away alive. I hid in the London suburbs, lost my wand… the rest you know."
"Why did you hide from the Ministry, if you'd sent the warning? You'd proven yourself to be on our side already, at your own risk." Asked Dumbledore.
"I thought you wouldn't believe me, but apparently you do, so I guess I'm all right now, am I?" I said with a hint of arrogance. I was thoroughly enjoying the look of utter disbelief on Fudge's face.
"You yet have to prove that you did send that message, Malfoy," replied Fudge hotly.
"Well, I can write the same thing again, and you can compare the writing," I suggested helpfully. It was strange, I was feeling extremely light-hearted. My optimism seemed to annoy Fudge even more.
"We'll see. But what kind of things did you do while you were with Voldemort?"
There I had to be careful. Fudge was obviously looking for a reason to send me to Azkaban.
"I participated in Muggle torturing a lot, and he sent me on diplomatic missions, to try to get vampires, werewolves, a few Dementors on our side."
"Oh?" Fudge seemed interested at that. Dumbledore then asked calmly,
"Why did you become a Death Eater?"
I could guess this question was quite important, so I chose my words carefully.
"My father served the Dark Lord before me, and expected me to do the same."
"But did you obey him willingly, or were you unhappy?" he continued.
I thought a few seconds again before answering.
"At first, I did really want to serve the Dark Lord, but I was convinced that his ideas, about the purity of blood, and all that, were right. But I started to dislike his ways of doing. Too much violence, harshness, bloodshed." I wanted to add more, so I wouldn't look too much like a sissy, but Dumbledore seemed satisfied. Fudge seemed to be hesitating between sending me to Azkaban for use of the Unforgivable curses, and telling everyone that I'd been forced into the job by my father. Finally he just said,
"Very well. We won't hold you in Azkaban, you'll stay in your room until the trial, but at any attempt to escape you go to Azkaban, straight on."
With those words, he stood up and left hurriedly. The other wizard, who had noted every single word, followed him. Dumbledore stayed behind.
"Did you want to add anything, Mr. Malfoy?"
I looked at him. It was the same face, with vivid, living eyes, a long bushy white beard, the face only slightly more wrinkled. My father had always thought him an old madman. I didn't know. He was definitely queer, yes, but also quite brilliant. He was one of the few people who most certainly were against Voldemort, no doubt possible.
"Well, it's just… I thought it was queer, when my father died. He was lying there at my feet, so weak. He'd died for Voldemort, for his master, like some kind of slave. I don't think that's right. I only have one life and I'm not handing it over to someone else to play with."
Dumbledore smiled.
"Quite right. You have well reasoned… Good for you."