Father Of Mine

Disclaimer : Everything you recognize belongs to JK Rowling

My father was the typical model citizen. He gave extreme donations to
charities such as Saint. Mungo's or funding for the cure for after
affects of the Cruciatous Curse. He was good friends with the Minister
of Magic, and presented a respectable face (and fa‡ade) to the
magical community. But he wasn't perfect. He made the wrong choice
20 long years ago.

When I was one, the first memory I have is of Halloween Night.
Instead of dressing me up like a clown, and taking me out trick or
treating, he was no where to be found. I remember searching for him
around our manor, going as fast as my tiny legs would carry me. But I
couldn't find him. I never could. That night, much later, he came
home. He was paler than ever, and shaking like mad. Mother rushed
over to him, and brought him to the kitchen table. She then went to
make tea. Always the perfect wife. He sat there, trembling. My
mother asked him what was wrong. He opened his mouth slowly, as
though he couldn't trust himself to speak.
"He he- he's g g gone."
Mother put her hand to her mouth, shocked.
"H h how ?"
"The Potters ." He said , bitterness filling his voice.
She went to console him, to talk about what they could do. She put
on a concerned and upset face for my father, but I had seen the relief.

When I was four, my father had a party. A kind of party where a lot of
people wouldn't want to be invited to. Or to be caught at. A party for
my father's kind. A Death Eater gathering. In a way. People were
there, but many were missing. Even I knew. Rosier, Dolohov, Crouch,
the Lestranges Snape wasn't there. Neither was Karkaroff. But
those two were alive. They just and't showed up. Neither did
Pettigrew. But he was dead. Good thing to, or we would have had to
answer to people like my father. After all, the Dark Lord disappeared
because of him. Sirius Black was not there. Of course, I knew he
wasn't a Death Eater. I knew he didn't kill the Potters. I knew he
didn't kill all those people. But I was sworn to secrecy. I was told to
promote that story. If I didn't, I could get him released from Azkaban.
And there were more reasons for my dad to want him there than just
a school boy hatred.

When I was six, Snape showed up at our door. My father invited him
in, very unwillingly, I might add. Snape sat down in our living room,
across from my father. I clung on to my father's chair, staring
apprehensively up at the man with the hook nose and oily hair.
"Lucius I want to discuss something with you."
My father sat stiffly. He nodded.
"Go on then."
"Two years ago, you had a parrty. For us. I didn't attend."
"Yes. You didn't."
"You see, Lucius, I didn't attend for a number of reasons. First of all, I
had to be at Hogwarts. But secondly " He took a deep breath. "I I
- I think that Dumbledore might be on to me." He said this in a rush.
My father looked grim.
"You think he might be on to you ?" He said slowly. "My, my, no. We
can't have that, can we ?"
Snape shook his head.
"Very well Severus. If that if your reason for not attending, and
practically leaving the Death Eaters for that muggle loving fool, it is a
pathetic excuse for one."
Snape looked stricken.
"However, I will accept it. You have never been one to lie."
Snape let out a I didn't even know I had been holding
it breath.
"Well then, it's time for me to go. Duty calls."
He looked very relieved, as though he had expected my father to
Avada Kedavra him right then and there. Oh yes, I knew all about
that as well. Snape turned to me.
"I hope to see you at Hogwarts. I expect you'll be in Slytherin." He
sneered at me, and I sneered right back at him. They laughed.
"Of course I will be. Don't think I'm sone swotty , nancy Gryffindor."
They laughed again. Those were words I had been taught. From the
very beginning, that was my upbringing.

When I was eleven, my father made a choice. I was to go to
Durmstrang. My mother fought with him for days. She wanted me to
be close, and go to Hogwarts. After a week, to the surprise of
everyone, he caved in. I could go to Hogwarts. I firmly believe that
the only reason he let me go is because he wanted to make sure I
turned into proper Death Eater material. By now, I had turned into the
perfect Slytherin. Sniveling, snobby, swaggering, sneering. The 4 s'.
You need to have the four s' to get into Slytherin. Everyone knew
that. Especially my father. My father the madman, my father the
saint. The person who tortured others, killed many. The man who beat
his wife, who influenced his son. He who killed, who lied, who
tortured, who gave, who took, who forgave. He is my father, father of
mine.