Chapter 30: Why.
It is easy to see the Deatheaters as an enemy, easy to talk about standing against them, harder to do. I would like to think I had the will to stand against them, to hold the line, to fight but can I truly know that I am ready for this, ready for whatever part I must play in the fight to come?
I do not know, there is this seed of doubt inside me that questions my worthiness, my ability, my will, my strength, even my power. This seed, like a poisonous berry sits heavy inside me, weighs down my heart, and makes me question whether I am ready, whether I am capable, whether I should…
Whether I could stand and fight.
At one time it sounded so easy, Voldemort and Deatheaters bad, me and my friends good; slay the evil doer, save the day and then go home, have a party.
Just like that.
Naïve but in a way, so pure, so innocent.
The more I learn the less I know.
Once I thought that was a cliché, now I know it is not, it is a fundamental truth, the increasing grasp of your knowledge revealing more and more of what there is to know, more and more of what is unknown.
Instead of seeing… Bellatrix Lestrange and thinking, evil witch, kill, capture, contains its Bellatrix Lestrange, Evil Witch why?
What is the difference between evil and good?
What makes a person walk from light to dark… or run gleefully into hate.
Take the Malfoys.
Reportedly gone, destroyed by Voldemort, not confirmed but considered very probable.
The first time I saw him, I saw an evil man, arrogant, controlling, so full of himself.
Now, I look back at those same memories, and I see a man not full of evil, but full of hatred, despair and self-loathing. I see a man who once knew, knew like you or I would know that the sky is ‘blue’ that he was superior because he was a Malfoy, because he was a near to pure-blooded as you could get in the Wizarding world, because he was born a wizard, because it was what he had been brought up to believe to know.
I see a man who knew all these things and then, found them to be untrue.
Found out that simply being born to a family of wizards didn’t make him the best wizard, his name, his money, all made him powerful but not automatically the best. I see a man who realized that those born of less pure blood could actually be better then him.
I see a man who realized that all he knew to be true was untrue and it destroyed him inside. Now, all he has is hate, self-loathing and a desire to destroy everything and everyone responsible for forcing those truths upon him.
When I think of Lucius now, I feel nothing but pity.
Then we have Draco Malfoy, his son. Also brought up to believe his name, his birthright, his money made him superior.
A man who, given the opportunity, threw of all… well, okay, most
of the bullshit his father taught him with a certain amount of glee.
Enough glee in fact to have him racing around the corridors of Hogwarts laughing and shouting about the bastard being dead; you might almost think he had father issues...
Sarcasm aside, I see a man, and given his choices I feel I must call him that despite his age, who will never be the nicest of persons, probably always be a bit bitchy and nasty but one who gives a damn. Better yet, shorn of his fathers influence, his control, he no longer hates that he gives a damn but is willing to accept it.
Draco Malfoy is someone you could call a friend, even as you wish to give yourself a case of 9mm lead poisoning for even thinking it. As for Lucius…
Frankly, a large part of me is surprised that Hermione was never the true focus of all his efforts, for she must have been the living embodiment of everything he hated and despised.
Bellatrix… a woman who never knew how to be anything but a bitch. Brought up by a woman who could have taught Hitler a thing or two, forced to surround herself with carefully selected pure blooded ‘friends’… A true product of her upbringing, she makes me wonder what kind of person she could have been if she had been brought up by someone else. There is a core of steel in her and from what I hear, an occasional dark but true wit. She may have been someone you would actually want to know; instead she is just an enemy.
The Senior Crabbe and Goyles…
Sheep, nothing more, nothing less. Followers, weak-willed and cruel, not evil in themselves, too petty for that but they can and have been lead into evil.
The only truly evil one is Voldemort.
The day may come when I try to fathom him, but right now I fear to try. I’m not sure I wish to look into that pit. Not now, not yet.
But I will have too, for I know Harry is unlikely too, he is far too caught in a black and white view of the world and doesn’t like to acknowledge the grey and Dumbledore is not pure of heart or of deed. I know he is hiding things from all of us and I know a few things about him that would make Harry’s toes curl.
Dumbledore controls the adult resistance, Harry leads the youth and neither willing to truly the see the enemy, to know them and, to risk using another cliché, how can you defeat an enemy you do not understand?
I sit in the bridge between the adult and youth resistance, both willing at least to consider what I say, what I do. If I can get them to see the enemy more as humans, to get them to actually think about what drives them, perhaps we will have a better chance.
Maybe it will be enough.
“So, how are we going to do this?”
Crabbe grunted, scratching under his armpit, “Hogsmeade day?”
“Been done,” Bellatrix responded, “several times. Got a bit hot for my liking last time.”
“Won’t expect it again.” He added after a few moments consideration, “not after last time.”
Bellatrix shot him a look and replied sarcastically, “yes, we’ve only attacked eight times on Hogsmeade days, no reasons for them to suspect we might do such a thing again, though I suppose the fact there’s only three of us this time might give them a surprise. A pleasant surprise at that.”
Goyle snorted, “according to Avery, anti-apparition wards have been added between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade.”
She grimaced, “See; now that might be a problem too.”
“Frontal assault is out.”
Bellatrix shot Crabbe a ‘no shit’ look and rose angrily to her feet, striding swiftly around the small space, ignoring the muted chatter of the pub outside the private room.
She stopped suddenly, “or…”
Her minion’s eyebrows rose as they watched her carefully as she paused in her striding, a contemplative expression on her face, “you know a frontal assault might be just what the Doctor ordered….”