The Malfoys had money, and lots of it. Never would they be in fear of not having enough spare change to eat a hearty afternoon meal, nor were they ever worried about squandering their money away on frivolous things like the newest broom model for their son Lucius or buying some of the most enchanting Dark Arts objects one could find.

And there lie in the problem.

Evil ran in their blood, traveled through their veins like honey for their souls. So smoothly did an unjust lifestyle fit them that the bad became good to them and the wrong became right; merely because it worked. For them.

Lucius Adrian Malfoy was born right after the end of World War II, something that affected muggles dearly, but which hardly impacted wizards unless they let it impact them--which they Malfoys did not let it. Mother and Father Malfoy, also known as Desdemona and Adrian Malfoy, glanced upon the Holocaust in un-interest while others were helping the poor muggles who were being persecuted just for believing in one thing while another person felt they should follow another. They never deemed it necessary to give a helping hand or even toss a spare pence to a homeless person on the streets of London.

But, the thought did cross Lucius' mind one dreary afternoon while walking through the crowded London streets.

His father and he were on their way to the Leaky Cauldron, weaving in and out of tucked-back streets and pushing, rather forcefully, through the crowded streets. Lucius was ten at the time, only having another year to wait for his Hogwarts letter in the owl post.

Down the street he skipped, his belly full of that morning's scones and tea and his pockets jingling in a quite gracious amount of wizarding change. "Tip-tap" his feet went down below him, and his lips were puckered, whistling a tune he could hardly remember, but that he was whistling all- the-same.

"Can't you stop that bloody nonsense?" Adrian seethed at his son. Never did he stand for such foolish play.

"Yes, Father." The whistling instantly ceased, the skipping faded away and no longer was there a cheery-jingle emerging from his pants pockets; just a well-behaved boy walking down the street with his hands swinging along beside him--but they only seemed to be swinging to a watchful eye.

Adrian Malfoy pushed onward through the crowd, knocking over a woman without ever missing a beat. Lucius had to rush to keep up with him. And then, while dropping back into some alley-a shortcut to the Leaky Cauldron-- Lucius saw a man, clothed in robes and drinking some substance from a paper bag. Never before had he seen such a sight in his escapades as a young boy.

"Father?" A small, pale hand reached up and tugged on the flowing robes his father was wearing.

"What?"

The pair stopped in the middle of the alley, the homeless man sitting only a few feet from the child.

"Why is that man sitting like so? Why is he dressed as such?"

"Because he is a good-for-nothing muggle with no other way to live," was the response, and then the movement hurried up again.

But, before his father got too far away, little-Lucius pulled a gold Galleon from his pocket and flipped it into the rags of the man. No matter that the Galleon meant nothing to the homeless man or that he had never seen a coin as such in his life. There was still the fact that, one dreary day while walking down the streets of London, Lucius Malfoy had attempted something good.