Voldemort's Second Mistake, or
Barrenness of Rock that Aches
Chapter 20
Dita wondered how Draco found the words to describe the horror of living under Voldemort's rule and the courage to continue writing about it under his very nose. She had already come to the conclusion that he was something of an abject coward, a trait come by honestly from his father, who pushed those who were weaker and cowered from those who were stronger. Draco was growing up just the same. And yet he expressed what it was like and dared to hide it from his master by the simple expedient of a Muggle cipher.
She couldn't help her heart both aching and rejoicing for what she read as she traveled north through Slovakia and Poland. She rejoiced at Draco's discovery of the truth about what he thought he revered, his opened eyes to what his precious Dark Lord was like. He and his father both had followed evil for the idea of the power it would give them. They wanted their own advancement, had grasped for their own good, had given not a thought to the true nature of what they served. Now Draco recognized his own enslavement, that the Dark Lord cared not a whit for his loyal followers, that there was no kindness, no gratitude, no return loyalty, nothing but pure selfish ambition and vindictive cruelty. He saw the truth of what he thought he wanted, and his soul recoiled from it.
But in Draco's case the truth did not serve to turn him to what was good. Dita ached because he really was enslaved, in his own mind as well as outwardly. The truth only served to push him into yet more furtive hiding and a terrified subservience to evil's will.
Yet there was still more. Everyone knew by now that Draco had been sent to kill Albus Dumbledore and that Dumbledore had saved him, that Draco had been the unwitting tool of Voldemort's demise. But not everyone knew why. No one seemed to recognize that there was something in Draco's life that was, in an odd, skewed way, identical to something in Harry Potter's life: an overriding passion for his family. Family had been drilled into him from birth, family bloodline, family purity, family honor, family loyalty. Everything a Malfoy did, he did for family. Voldemort thought he understood that in the Malfoys, understood, despised, and used it. Forced a young boy to drive himself to horrific deeds and the brink of madness for his family's sake. Here was one situation where fear combined with something more than greed: in this instance it was love driving Draco, fear for more than his own safety, love mixed with fear pushing him to confront what he would have run from, to do the deeds that gave him nightmares, to plunge himself alone into danger because more than himself rested on his courage.
Voldemort never had learned his lesson from the Potters but repeated his mistake with the Malfoys. He had thought their love was a paltry thing, easily overcome, used, and cast aside. Instead he made it a powerful part of the edifice of his own downfall. He had pushed the Malfoys past their ability to endure patiently his attacks on their family. In the end they abandoned him for love, caring nothing for his triumph. In the end it was a mother's love that once again saved Harry Potter's life and once again led to Lord Voldemort's destruction. Narcissa had told Dita what she'd done to save her son, whispered it shamefully after much resistance, unaware that it was the finest moment of her life. In that moment Narcissa Malfoy was on a level with the great, the legendary Lily Potter, and she still didn't know it. Perhaps someday Draco could tell her. Only he and his diary understood what a coward might do when love overcame fear. Evil deeds, to start with, the wrong things for the right reason. But someday perhaps he would have the freedom to choose the right things.