Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs to J.K. Rowling - not me

Theobald Nott's story

Theodore Nott had a lot in common with his father. They both looked very much alike. Both tall and skinny with dark blue eyes and a mop of curly hair. They both liked to keep to themselves and preferred the company of books to the company of most people. They would have made fine Ravenclaws if it weren't for that hunger for power. Oh they weren't interested in any official position, they preferred to be the advisors, the men behind the official figure, the ones with the true power. They also weren't scrupulous and would use bribery, the occasional blackmail or magic of the darker shades to get what they wanted.

Yet with all their similarities Theodore came to realize that he knew only very little about his father. They both didn't talk much and when they did it was about academics or politics. Never anything personal.

Theodore often wondered why his father had joined the Death Eaters. He wasn't a lover of Muggles- but he knew that his father didn't really care about blood status, as long as that person was useful to him. His father hadn't raised him with the same indoctrinations Draco had been raised.

After the war Theobald received a life sentence in Ascaban for his crimes. Theodore was left alone to deal with his grief and his inheritance. He visited his father once a month and only after three visits his father's health had deteriorated, he had gotten even skinnier so he looked like a skeletton, his skin had an unhealthy greyish hue, and he had developed a bad cough. Theodore was painfully aware that he didn't have much time to learn more about his father's reasons to join the Death Eaters or about his mother. However after a lifetime of not talking about the issues that really mattered, he didn't know how to approach the subjects. It seemed that his father sensed Theodores need for answers, or maybe he just wanted to get some things of his chest before he died. It was on one of Theodore's last visits when his father finally started talking.

„I was in my fourties when I met your mother. My parents had died in an accident in Tangier during my last year at Hogwarts. So there had been no one to nag me about getting married to some nice pureblood girl and produce an heir. Your mother was different to all those gracious and well trained women that I had known and that frankly had bored me to tears. She came from an impoverished Irish lower gentry family. She was beautiful with her strawberry blonde curls, her brown eyes and those freckles on her nose. But what I loved most about her was her magical power and her passion. You got your love for music and poetry and your impish sense of humour from her. Charlotte was twenty years younger than I was and my friends told me that I was an old fool. I don't know what she saw in an old grump like me and so we married after a whirlwind romance. Her family couldn't quite decide whether to be happy that Charlotte married someone above her station or whether to be upset that she married such an old and socially awkward lump." Theobald had a wistful smile on his face and a soft look in his eyes, eyes that seemed to look into the past and didn't see his son sitting right in front of him.

Now by the time I met your mother I had already been aquainted with the Dark Lord. What you have to understand about him is that he always seemed to know what your deepest desire was and he used it to lure you in. If you wanted power he promised you that, if you wanted revenge he told you how to get it. He could get you anything you want whether it be riches, a place to belong or simply torture and kill people for the fun of it. I wanted knowledge. Knowledge and freedom. I didn't want to be told which sort of magic I was allowed to learn and which not, I wanted to decide for myself what to learn and what not. You see I've always felt that spells have been somewhat arbitrarily put into the categories of white and dark magic. Who decided whether a spell was dark or not? I wanted to know where the limits to what is possible are. I was seduced by all the things he showed me and I didn't want to see who he really was until it was too late. I didn't want to join the Death Eaters and in the beginning the Dark Lord showed me a lot of patience…but his patience wore thin. So he decided to help me with my decision making and ordered some of his followers to kill Charlotte. You were only a few months old by the time and they killed her right in front of you. It's my fault that she is dead. I killed her."

Theobald's voice broke and his body shook from a coughing fit. He had his face covered with one of his hands so it took Theodore a few minutes to realize that his father was crying. Theodore felt numb. He hadn't known most of the things his father had told him. He had always thought his mother had died of Dragon Pox. After a while his father stopped shaking and continued.

„They told me that if I didn't join them, they would kill you next. I couldn't let anything happen to you. I've failed to protect Charlotte but I wouldn't fail to protect you. So I joined and now I am paying for my sins." Theobalds body shook with another coughing fit. Theodore simply sat there looking on helplessy without knowing what to say.

Theobald grabbed Theodore's hands: „ Just promise me one thing son." Thedore just stared at him. „Promise me that you will be happy, don't cry for me I'm not worth it. Be happy that is all I want for you." Theodore nodded numbly and watched while the prison guards helped his father to his feet to accompany him to his cell.

Theobald died nine weeks later.