Dear Wilhelm,
You asked me last summer why people are mean to you at Hogwarts. I refused to tell you, as you may well remember, but it was a mistake to do so. You've faced bullies who tell you that you will end up like me. Your father faced those insults too, and your children and their children may as well. It's all in the family name, Will. I'm sorry.
When I was a seventh-year at Hogwarts, my father introduced me to a man called Tom Riddle. I was impressed with Riddle's charm, his sympathy with Pureblood values, his calm, smooth attitude. So much so I didn't even blink when he placed a house-elf under the Imperius curse. Bad signs, I know, but I was only eighteen, and a fool.
You've taken quite a lot of History of Magic already, I'm sure. (Is Professor Binns still teaching, or did you get someone more interesting?) If you know anything about the Second Wizarding War, you know about Tom Riddle. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The Dark Lord. Voldemort. And his over-zealous followers, the Death-Eaters.
I know more about Voldemort's henchmen than the history books care to tell you. I remember things vividly from that time, so much so that I still wake up screaming from nightmares of them, thirty years later. Because I was one of those henchmen, Will. Everyone knows that. I'm sure you'll even run across a textbook someday with my name in it. I am the reason that you are mistreated at Hogwarts.
As I said, your father faced the same abuse that you do, and I thank heaven that the wizarding world has grown much more tolerating over the decades. I also thank heaven and you may someday as well, that most people think that I died years ago. It would be worse if they knew that I still live, I'm sure. But remember that while some of your more belligerent classmates have direct connections to someone harmed by the Death Eaters, most don't, and they're only trying to pick a fight with you. It really doesn't matter.
But, Will, I have something to tell you that you can be proud of. You have literally saved a life. My life. Remember when you were only five years old and you sat with me until midnight one night?
To tell you the truth, Will, I was waiting for you to go to bed so that no one would see me harm myself. But you stayed up, and stayed up, until your grandmum came looking for me. And I cannot thank you more.
Without you or your five siblings, (who are at the moment sliding down the stairs on trays from the kitchen, I might add) I would not be alive. Lucius Wilhelm Malfoy, you do have something to be proud of.
Love you,
Grandad.
P.S. Perenelle, Hawkin, Leanna, Cassius, and Artemis send their love and ask you to write them and tell them if you've pulled off any pranks this year. (If you have, please don't tell me.)