Lucius Malfoy twisted his mouth into his trademark sneer.
His classmates well knew this expression as one of distain, distaste, like something disgusting had just crawled onto his very expensive shoe.
It had been directed at many creatures in his time at school, teachers, Gryffindors, filthy muggleborns, younger students who snivelled around him desperate for a piece of attention and reputation that would come from being his friend. His desperate good looks had always afforded him a halo which softened the blow of even his more heinous acts, add to that a position on the quidditch team, a prefect badge and the clout of merely being an older student and it was no wonder that he had a cloud of hangers on following him like baby ducks. Not to mention the wealth.
Eugh. The money.
Sometimes Lucius felt a distain for even his own wealth, but he knew it was just another way that people were begging for a piece of him. Outside of school his sneer turned to those simpering "businessmen" who all tried to court his good graces until they could claw at his purse strings and bank vault, asking for a just a slice of the lavish lifestyle he had been born into.
But school was behind him, and the people in this room were no businessmen, though he knew some of them well.
Beneath black hoods stood his classmates, their fathers, his own father and mother, Mr Borgin and Burke, and some ministry professionals who had dined at his father's table more than once. He could see none of their faces but knew their identities, could feel the familiar pulse of their magic around him. They would recognise his sneer of distain.
But today his sneer wasn't directed at any of them, nor was it on either of the men in front of him. The muggle sat on the floor in front of him, unable to walk, unable to speak. He had been brought in none too gently and when he had tried to cry out, one of his compatriots had cut out his tongue.
He was pathetic. Or at least he should be.
Lucius looked down at the man, past his black eye and mud-caked clothes, past the dried and congealed blood lingering on his chin where the evidence of the brutality already inflicted on him clung like a battle scar. Lucius looked into the man's eyes and saw only a defiance. A quiet strength emanated from those eyes, and Lucius felt the air drain from his lungs. That's when he had affixed his sneer, looking down on the creature that he was to kill.
Ah yes, he was to have his first kill tonight, for the powerful wizard at the end of the room dictated it. Past the lump of human on the floor stood the next big thing for wizarding Britain. Voldemort was to be the next Minister for Magic, the next Merlin, the greatest sorcerer who ever lived. He was going to reshape the wizarding world, cleanse and purify it from the muggles who mixed into wizarding bloodlines. The same muggles that would kill them if they knew they existed, burning them at the stake and drowning them in rivers.
Lucius stood unmasked, he was not yet initiated into Voldemort's ranks, but at the next call he would be among them. Part of the inner circle who would blaze the trail for generations of pureblood wizards to live in their place rightfully ruling over their muggle slaves.
Lucius carried his sneer, true, but all those who looked upon it would misinterpret it. He felt distain, true, but the distain he felt wasn't directed at the muggle at his feet. That muggle ought to be a weeping shell, he had been beaten and tortured and brutalised, dragged to this place by forces he didn't even know existed, much less understood. The face of this nameless muggle showed no fear, not a trace of sadness or cowardice in the face of the horrific situation he had found himself in. There was no beating this man, he had already beaten his captors. If he had been able to stand he would no doubt have his back straight, his chin lifted, and his arms wide. This man was ready to face his fate and the only weapon he had left was the strength in his eyes.
A highly effective weapon indeed, Lucius had known he had lost when he looked into the man's eyes. Despite all the odds he was on the muggle's terms now, and this muggle was going to go out with his eyes open.
This man's fate was sealed, but what of his own? He didn't have to go through with it. There was nothing to stop him lowering his wand arm, leaving the circle, and facing the consequences later. He could walk away, he could turn tail and run. Circe, he could even dive upon this poor unfortunate muggle and disapparate them both to safety. He could run and never stop, leave the country, hide away, start a new life, a humble one.
Each plan was more wild than the last as they flitted through his head, but he knew that he would never go through with any of them. It seemed that the price for his morality, the price for his soul, was the comfortable life that he wanted to live. That thirst for money, power, and extravagance overrode his need for noble action.
Lucius Malfoy sneered with distain, and nobody would know that it was all directed inwards.
He raised his wand.
"Avada Kedavra"