A Father's Musings

I am sure I am supposed to greet you, but since these are simply my musings, a word that I am sure my wife would be surprised to know I know, I will move ahead with a perfunctory 'hello' for the sake of politeness that I hardly feel.

Just for the record, today is the fifth of January, 2022. Harry hates Halloween. I will, hereafter, hate the fifth of January. Yeah, sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. Didn't seem necessary to introduce myself when my only audience are my worries, my paranoia, my dark thoughts – all of which are justified – and yes, my glass of firewhiskey. Nevertheless, let me state that too for the record – being an Auror has forced that habit upon me – I am Ronald Weasley. The reason for my unhappiness is that my daughter has a boyfriend.

Now, let me make it clear; I am not trying to pull the Neanderthal father routine here. She is sixteen and her having a boyfriend is not surprising at all. Beyond the fact that it makes me concerned like any other father would be, I am not bothered by the fact that she has a boyfriend.

I am bothered by the boy, one bastard called Scorpius Malfoy, son of a bigger bastard called Draco Malfoy, son of an even bigger bastard called Lucius Malfoy, who was the son of an even bigger bastard called Abraxas Malfoy. You will see a pattern here.

But perhaps you need a background for my abhorrence of the boy, for that is what it is, and will remain. And if this goes any further, I will do anything, absolutely anything, and to hell with legal, ethical or moral, to save my daughter from this, for not only will my abhorrence remain, it shall intensify with each passing day.

So, as I was saying, there is a background. And while I have no qualms about crossing all legal, moral and ethical boundaries as I said before, the background that I provide has proof, perfectly legal proof. I am an Auror after all.

Abraxas Malfoy, the oldest of the Malfoys that lived when I was born, was a man who colluded with several others of his generation and bought the freedoms of several terrorists – rapists, murderers, torturers and so on. By the way, they were rapists. They were murderers. They were torturers. Not one of these. They were all of those. One of these terrorists was the bastard called Lucius Malfoy, Abraxas' son. Let's not get into the semantics about calling these creatures a bastard while describing them as the son of their respective fathers. I should not have to do that in my mind. I do not know much more about Abraxas. I do not care. He was just another bastard who died in 1995 of dragon-pox. I only wished he had died before Lucius Malfoy was conceived.

So, this Lucius Malfoy, a marked Death Eater, was a blood supremacist. Again, a clarification; I am a pureblood by birth, and there are many traditions that I have learnt over the years and am proud of, but none of this gives me leave to be a criminal. My wife is a muggleborn, and while I have not always understood her, or her decisions, or her beliefs, I have nonetheless made an attempt to both understand and support her to the best of my abilities. More importantly, I love her. Lucius Malfoy, during his career as a Death Eater was gleefully involved in tasks that would have seen him murdering my wife and her family. The world wouldn't have had Hermione Granger. Bugger the world. I wouldn't have had Hermione Granger, and without her, I wouldn't have had my two wonderful children.

And I am a father and husband first, damn it. And bugger you and anyone who's listening if you fault me for that.

So, coming back to Lucius Malfoy; this monster had some skills which admittedly were top-notch. He knew how to blackmail. He knew whom to blackmail. He knew how to bribe. He knew whom to bribe. And he had a silver tongue. He used them to great effect, and by the time I got into school in 1991, he owned the Ministry. Let me emphasise – he owned the body that decided and executed policy for over fifty thousand people with the power to be undetected, to kill, to wield a kind of ability that even modern science cannot know, much less explain. And a damn, bloody, fucking terrorist owned the government for a country that, on the general scale – magical and muggle combined – is a superpower.

Shut up mind-Hermione. I am going to swear to my heart's content in my mind.

But if that was not enough, Lucius Malfoy became my personal enemy a year later. He served a Dark Wizard, the worst in several centuries in fact, who had created Horcruxes to ensure his immortality. Lucius had been awarded one. He possessed a fucking part of the fucking soul of the worst creature on earth in several centuries.

And the bastard passed it to my sister. The bastard, knowing full well what it was, passed it to my innocent, eleven year-old sister, knowing full well that it would possess her, that it would leach her magic, that it would kill her, that it would resurrect Voldemort, failing which, it would at the very least incriminate Ginny. And all because it would be a measure of revenge against our father for getting a law that disallowed monsters like him attacking muggles through enchanted objects, or even possessing them in the first place. It doesn't matter that Ginny did not die. It doesn't matter that Harry, my best friend at the time, and now Ginny's husband, saved her from a basilisk of all creatures. It doesn't matter that Ginny was never incriminated.

Lucius Malfoy became my personal enemy that day. At the end of the second war against Voldemort, when he was conclusively killed, Lucius was arrested and put into Azkaban. There, he hatched an escape plan. I am proud of the fact that I allowed him to walk out of his cell. And I am prouder still of the fact that I personally blew his head to bloody mist with a spell, point blank, after I had roughly cut of all his limbs. The fear, agony and hatred, that were his last expressions, were all delicious. His six co-conspirators, who fell to the wands of my team, were similar monsters. It wasn't entrapment. It was an encounter.

Looking back, I wonder whether I should not have done that when we faced the Death Eaters in the Ministry during our fifth year at Hogwarts.

So, let's move on to the next generation. Draco Malfoy, my classmate, and the first Death Eater from my generation. A more worthless waste of air I have not seen. He and I fell afoul of each other almost as soon as we set eyes upon the other. I no longer am bothered when criminals call me a blood-traitor. I smile at them. It makes them angry, and prone to blurting out stupid things. Pre-teens, however, are quicker to anger. I was no exception.

But I will remain thankful to him for making me aware of the fact that my two best friends, Hermione and Harry, were not as clever as people expected them to be. In our second year at Hogwarts, and then onwards, Malfoy routinely called Hermione and Harry's mum 'mudblood'. Now, for all that they didn't know what it exactly meant, nobody is stupid enough to not understand the tone, or that the word never had positive connotations.

That very year, when Ginny was used to attack muggleborn students by Voldemort's Horcrux, Draco Malfoy so gleefully hoped that Hermione would die. He spoke it aloud often. And just a reminder – it was Draco's father who had put the Horcrux into innocent hands.

He was just a gnat till our sixth year, really, when he took the Dark Mark to stand in his father's stead. And he conspired to kill Albus Dumbledore. Let's put aside the fact that Dumbledore was dying, that he wanted Draco's soul saved, that Draco never actually murdered Dumbledore, that it was Snape, who was still supposedly a spy for our side who did the deed to bolster his place among Voldemort's ranks. It doesn't falsify the fact that Draco took the Dark Mark. And every marked Death Eater IS a murderer, and a rapist, and a torturer. Voldemort had standards. He didn't mark every Tom, Dick and Harry who went up to him and wished to be marked. And this marked Death Eater allowed a phalanx of Death Eaters like Bellatrix Lestrange, and an even worse monster like Fenrir Greyback into Hogwarts, near children as young as eleven.

Let me make a confession. I have made more than my share of mistakes, and nobody knows this better than Harry and Hermione. But they have forgiven me time and again. Yet, among all my mistakes, including my abandonment of them while we were on the run, I consider the mistake of not believing Harry when he claimed the Malfoy was a Death Eater to be the worst. But I have learnt from it. And I have learnt not to be aggravated by my mistakes, or by the need to accept them, as well. That is from bitter experience. Time wasted hiding some mistakes may be better used correcting them, after all.

And that is why Harry is no longer my best friend. It may seem unrelated, but let me explain.

Harry sacrificed his life – forget the magical mumbo-jumbo that keeps him alive – to win us the war. But he was supposedly helped by Narcissa Malfoy, Draco Malfoy's mother, when she lied to Voldemort when she realised that Harry hadn't really died and knew about Draco. That was good. But that meant very little when on the greater scale she had been marked, she had helped Voldemort. But Harry equated that act to the love of his mother, who sacrificed her life to save him. That was the moment I stopped considering Harry as anything more than an acquaintance. Sure, I have been friendly with him, enough for nobody to know the difference. I am even the godfather to his kids.

But he is not my friend. He is only an idiot, an all-forgiving idiot. An idiot who has self-sacrificial ideas, but does not understand that just as one has to sometimes sacrifice oneself for the good of everyone one also has to destroy someone else sometimes. He has not understood that amputating a gangrenous limb saves a life. He also has not realised, even now, that while dying for someone is a great expression of love, living for someone, or even killing for someone you care about, is just as important.

That is why even though I am godfather to his kids, and even though people assume that he is my children's godfather, he isn't. I can trust Harry to protect my children with his life. I can't trust Harry to not forgive the wrong person and protect my children with the perpetrators' life. He is an ace investigator, but he is a shitty Auror. I was happy to no longer be his partner. I would have been happier still if he had never joined the Aurors, and never married my sister. I worry.

This Harry-bashing tangent is not meaningless, if you think. It was because Harry spoke in Narcissa's defence that she was freed. It was because Harry testified that it didn't seem like Draco was really going to kill Dumbledore that there was some supposed "reasonable doubt". That is pure, unadulterated bullshit. Like all the others, Malfoy should have been in Azkaban instead of being allowed to breed and being allowed to produce a bastard child that befriends my nephew and courts my daughter.

Harry is blinded by hope that Scorpius will be like Sirius. I am not. Harry, as I said, is an idiot. And I am a cynic.

Scorpius may, for all I know, be a good person. But how do I trust that? How do I trust the child of a family that has churned out one terrorist after another? How do I allow my daughter to be tainted by an alliance with the son of a marked Death Eater? Hermione is not happy with me, and thinks that my stance of associating a child with his forefather's crimes is unnecessarily harsh, and even thinks that they make an "adorable couple", whatever that bullshit means. She was tortured by Bellatrix in Malfoy Manor, for Merlin's sake! How could she forget that? What if that happens to Rose? What will we do then?

We are dealing with a criminal's son here, a rapist's son to be sure. How do we trust that little shit to not pressurise my precious daughter into something she is not ready for? I am not being puritanical, but is it wrong to hope that her first experience comes with someone I would approve of, and that too after she is an adult? Kids are in a hurry these days, and I can't even digest the idea of them interacting, never mind being close. How do I trust that this is not a plot to use my daughter as a pawn? How do I trust that Scorpius is not like Draco, when Draco's public life has not reflected any remorse he might feel? How then could I trust a child he has brought up? Why should I trust that boy?

Neither Lucius nor Draco have ever shown any compunctions using innocent parties for their agenda. We're, as I will say again, speaking about people who passed a Horcrux into my sister's hands, or Imperiused Katie Bell to attempt an assassination in which she nearly died, and who have basically, for as long as we have known them been terrorists. My daughter is too precious for me to accept this.

Harry, Hermione and Ginny are not happy with my opposition. Harry and Ginny don't matter. Hermione does. I am starting to think that those brought up in the muggle world have something of a masochistic streak, though what has happened to my sister, I haven't the foggiest.

All I want to do is protect Rose. And as much as I no longer care for Harry, I do care for Albus. He is my sister's son. And for that, if I have to frame Malfoy, and then be seen arresting him, and if my luck is very, very good, ensure that he goes through the Veil, all the while with my name visibly associated with it, so as to ensure that those two relationships are damaged beyond repair, I will probably be able to use the Mirror of Erised normally, at least for a few minutes.

These may seem like the ramblings of a drunken man; Merlin knows I have my anger problems and firewhiskey doesn't exactly help a linear chain of thought, and I have gone onto many tangents. But I am in full possession of my senses. If I have to go against the entire world for my children, to do what I believe with every ounce of my being to be right for them, I will do it. Let Rose hate me for it. I wouldn't care, so long as she is safe. I will sacrifice that illusion of happiness for her long-term safety and real happiness. I think I understand many decisions better now.

I am a father. It is my job to worry.


After a fairly long hiatus, I, TAUNBW sit to type. A newborn daughter, the accompanying happiness and an introduction to night shifts as a father that my professional life never gave me...let's just say I have never been so happy to be tired or to not have time.

And it makes a man remarkably prescient, paranoid and worried, a state of mind that only Ron could be used to represent, what with the absolutely absurd trope that is the Rose Weasley/Scorpius Malfoy pairing, which Ron, like the sane person he is, never accepts and unfairly gets bashed for.

I promise to start writing The Marauder's Tuition and The Wish of the Master of Death again soon.