With Good Intentions

The Quibbler scooped its much larger rival in reporting the steady return of ex-pats to magical Britain. Those fleeing the post-victory wave of persecution made their way to the new communities where family and friends found homes and opportunity — absent the ill-treatment heaped on them by fascists masquerading as concerned citizens.

The Daily Prophet, not to be outdone, established a free personal ad service (for returning refugees) to assist in the reunification of ruined families.

The return of the “threat” to Britain’s magical shores did not sit well with M.A.D.E.

The return of “organized opposition” to their rights, as citizens, to live in the land of their creation did not sit well with the refugees.

The conflict escalation galloped very well along predicted paths in Hermione and Lucius’ brilliant strategy for avoiding Azkaban (for him) while changing their part of the world (for her).

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Thus it was that days after the The Times, the Financial Times, The Daily Mail and The Daily Telegraph published glowing accolades for the muggle philanthropic group — “ME Children’s Charity”, the Daily Prophet dedicated a special edition to the work of Malfoy Enterprises.

At the opening of the latest facility — covered by every legitimate, obscure and crackpot publication in Britain’s magical community — Molly Weasley found herself pitted directly against a rising tide of grateful citizens, (those her crusade overlooked).

“Mr. Malfoy! What motivated this incredible project?” the Prophet reporter yelled over the loud protesters infiltrating the press conference. M.A.D.E. instigators jostled the packed room of starry-eyed attendees.

“I’d like to apologize for my wife. Hermione’s indisposed at the moment, working on a major project. She sends her regards and gratitude to all here today."

The platinum fox paused thoughtfully before continuing.

“Several ideas drove my actions. First, I felt it important to redress the wrongs left by the war. To see fathers unable to work, mothers and children living in tents because of the cost and lack of affordable housing, children afflicted with crippling yet curable maladies, bothered my wife who then ‘explained’ to me that I needed to get off of my pampered, pureblood arse and do something with all that money I inherited.”

The self-deprecation worked well given Hermione Granger played the catalyst.

“Second, I also learned — slowly, according to my mate,” — more laughter caused him to pause — “that muggles have methods of addressing these societal issues that our community has, frankly, ignored. Hermione convinced me that if Tom Riddle Jr. had lived in a home with a caring family, two wars could have been averted. Having lost my first wife and my son to one of those wars, I listened with an attentive ear.”

“Some would say your efforts — including your marriage to the war hero, Hermione Granger — were all ploys to reduce or eliminate any sentence the court might pass down during your oft-delayed trial. How do you answer that accusation?”

A deep breath raised and lowered his shoulders, making the aristocrat slightly shorter and more vulnerable looking. Gazing at the floor for what seemed long moments, he raised those grey-blue eyes of his to scan the audience. 

His moment had arrived.

“Hermione’s redemption of me began before I understood how much I didn’t know about our world. She supported Narcissa’s and Draco’s legal defense because she felt the court hadn’t truly considered the pressure we were under — living with a madman who killed people in our presence, fed them to his snake in our home and threatened to make us extinct. Hermione saw us at our worst. She…”

A tear, genuine in its origin, slid down his cheek.

“She experienced horrible disfigurement at the hands of my sister-in-law, yet she forgave my family because she believed we were trapped. My track record with good decision-making isn’t long. I have been an arrogant fool and a fairly inept as a wizard — I understand the Prophet sold a great many copies reporting my failure to hold onto a memory globe in the Hall of Prophesies.” 

More cheeky laughter broke out at his expense.

“Let’s not mince words: I am the reason my first wife and only son have been executed — one by that madman’s curse and one by our government. I have learned, thanks to my present wife, that my actions affect more than myself.” 

In the moment, he discovered his words meant more than the performance he’d thought he’d been giving. The saying “Be careful what you pretend to be…” flitted through his awareness before he regained his focus.

“I am trying to alleviate the conditions that create monsters. Children aren’t born monsters; they’re driven to become so.”

Thunderous applause and violent fights erupted simultaneously. Placard handles, snapped off their incendiary message boards, became weapons in the hands of both sides as the commotion spread across the back of the packed room. Innocent bystanders suffered.

“Please! Please stop the violence! We’re ONE community and there’re few enough of us. I seem to have found something useful to do. Let me help; let US help.”

Applause again covered the shouts from the arrests of carriage-loads of the new elitists.